There are many things I should be doing this morning, but I had to sit down and write this first, before I write curriculum, or emails, or even my list of things to do.
I wanted to tell you a story about a sign of love. They seem to be everywhere these days, like I can’t take a step without somehow being reminded that there is a force in the Universe that wants us to Love; a force that wants us to see that Grace is everywhere. If we keep our eyes and hearts open to the possibility, we will always find it.
Today is Friday, which means the Trash Man Cometh, and it’s our week for recycling, which means that all three cans need to make the journey down our long driveway to the curb. Usually, this is Tim’s job, but he was up and gone to work before dawn this morning. I just knew he wouldn’t have taken the trash out that early, so I scurried out the door in my boxer shorts and slippers to make it before the trucks came rumbling up the hill.
And wouldn’t you know it? He had taken the trash out to the curb. I don’t know if he did it after his 12-hour day yesterday, or before his 12-hour day began today, but the darn things were gone from our side yard and sitting pretty at the street. So I took my last trash bag down to the curb and as I was walking back to the house, I was thinking about how lucky I am. I thought about how hard he works to support our family, how he never looks at me as if I don’t contribute enough, or complain about what isn’t done. I thought about how grateful I am to be married to him and how just yesterday I had hugged him and quoted one of our favorite lines from Chris Rock, the comedian, who said, all his dad ever wanted was to hear his family say, “Hey, thanks for knocking out the rent.”
And then I looked down at my feet and saw this embedded in the concrete of our driveway. I don’t know how long it’s been there. I don’t know how many years I have walked right by it unaware. But it was there all along.
Kind of like Love.
The kind of love that takes out the trashcans before dawn, or does the dishes every night after dinner. The kind of love that makes the coffee at night, so that it greets me when I wake in the morning. The kind of love that works a 12-hour day, goes to Open House and then studies for a vocabulary test with the 10-year-old, because he makes it so much fun that I can’t even compete.
Those signs of Love are around us every day. Yes, I love the reminders written in stone, and concrete, in leaves and sky, but I also need to keep my eyes and heart open to the ones that are present in the million different ways that my husband loves me.