Every day at 3 pm, my grandparents had a date. They sat down at their white formica table with their glass bowls and ate ice cream with homemade chocolate syrup together.
It dawns on me.
The importance of a daily ritual with my spouse.
Over the years we’ve had our own rituals. Drinking coffee together in the morning and snuggling on the couch at the end of the day watching crime documentaries are several current rituals. Over the years, they’ve ebbed, flowed, and morphed.
Years ago, when my husband first got sober, we’d buy countless cartons of ice cream and eat several scoops in bed every night.
We went through a phase of telling each other 5 things we loved about the other every day.
For a while we took turns reading chapters of the Bible to each other.
After we got a dog, we were religious about going for a walk every day together (except when it was wickedly Minnesota cold).
A small ritual that has withstood the test of time is daily intentional touches. A passing kiss. A long embrace. Hand holding. A butt slap. A back tickle. A finger-comb through the hair. A foot rub.
There isn’t a day that goes by without some form of touch.
Another ritual is just being around each other as much as we can. When we are home, we follow each other around. We are never in separate rooms for long. When one goes to run errands, stop to get milk, go grocery-shopping, or pick up the kids, the other goes with. It is almost unspeakable for one of us to go someone alone.
He is my counter-weight, my ying, my gravitational pull. My home isn’t a place; it’s him.
These rituals we share might not change the world. But they fortify us. When our marriage is strong, those in our orbit can’t help but be affected.
So I guess we really are changing our little corner of the world after all.
Faith in the Mess by Melissa Neeb
You tell me that You are my Provider. That You and You alone supply all my needs and give me abundantly more than I can ask for or imagine.
So I should seriously ask myself. Do I have scarcity mentality?
I hear God calling. It is always different. It’s just a whisper sometimes. Or a word placed on my heart with surgical precision. A persistent feeling in a dream. A melody on repeat in my brain. A compass dropped in my lap. He whispers of a grace and abundance I don’t deserve. But God never … Continue reading God is Calling. It is Time to Go.
When things get messy, as they so very often do, who am I?