Please Believe Me, I Know Not What I Do, Please Believe Me, I Can't Stop Loving You

Dear Barney,

 

This week marks nine years of knowing each other, and this Sunday will mark nine years since our first date.  From this point forward, we will be closing in on our first decade of life together, which is pretty hard to wrap my head around.  We've managed to do pretty well these first nine years, huh?  Three beautiful children, two stable careers, a home we love, and a love for one another that only continues to grow.

 

I have been fighting anxiety for the past couple of weeks, and much of it stems from a fear of losing all of the wonderful blessings that God has gifted to me, though I know I am undeserving.  My heart constricts at the thought of losing you, and last night, I had to quell panic at the idea of learning how to sleep in my bed without you.  Of course, that panic came because it was 1:00am and I was still awake because I cannot sleep without you and you were up playing XBox with Mitchell. Classic Barney.  But, I love that you are still a kid at heart and not some stolid 35 year old man who lost his boyish pleasures about the same time he lost his full head of hair.  I might have gotten a little less sleep than I would have liked for one night, but I am gaining soooooo soooo much more than that in getting to be your wife.

 

This week, my gestures to you have been multiple nights in the den down the street with the guys enjoying the ball games, stogies, beers, and fellowship of other men while I hold down the fort at home.  It's been a long time since you had the opportunity to enjoy the company of a bunch of guys that you love hanging out with, and I am glad that you are finding that here in our new home.  I know that we are a lot of things for one another, but cigar buddies is not one of those things. 

 

I also want you to know that I have loved you so much these past two months in watching you serve as our son's soccer coach.  Wrangling three and four year olds is the opposite of easy, I know.  But, you do it with grace and style, and I know that George absolutely loves that you are the team's coach.  I am not saying it won't be nice for the season to end this week, but that doesn't change how much I've enjoyed seeing you in that new role.

 

As I write this, I want to go wake you up, just so I can see your smile and tell you I love you one more time today, but I will save that for tomorrow.  For now, just know that you are truly my one and only.

 

I love you.

 

--me.

Things I Love About You

Dear Barney,

One of my all-time favorite scenes from a movie is from When Harry Met Sally at the end when Harry tells Sally all of the little idiosyncrasies about her that made him fall in love with her. I've always thought that would be so romantic and had even been so helpful as to pick out a few things you might list about me. Then, when one of the characters in the book I finished tonight did the same thing, I realized that I had it backwards and should be doing the same for you. Of course, I've kind of done it before, but there's more to add, like this: I love how when you get interested in something, you become totally passionate about it. From the trees to plant in our yard to the survival man gear you keep buying and stashing around the house to your love for buying books because you know I love them, your passion inspires me. Please never lose it.

I love you.

--me.

Not So Deliberately Lately

Dear Barney,

It's been almost a month since I last wrote you, and it so clearly shows in our marriage. I'm full of excuses, from the somewhat good--three kids! Starting my EdD! Soccer, supper club, small group, birthday parties! to the rather lame--Words with Friends! My books! Fall TV!

I feel myself falling back into the pattern of getting easily snappish with you, carelessly allowing a harmful tone to creep into our conversation, even when my intention or actual feelings are much calmer than what I voice.

Today I had the privilege of helping my sister-in-law to register, and while fun, it was a tiring day on the heels of an extremely exhausting weekend. When I got home, I was worn out, overwhelmed at what all I needed to accomplish still today, and was feeling physically sick because I was engorged. So, when you came and opened the car door for me, I greeted you with a diatribe on the state of our car's tires rather than with the sweet welcome you had probably envisioned. By the time I made it in the door, I realized how inappropriate my attitude and way of handling that conversation had been.

But the worst part was that I knew how empty the apology would sound since I seem to be making the same apology and promise to be more careful with my attitude at least once every three or four days now.

This time, I not only mean it but plan to hold myself accountable by deliberately writing to you and assessing things at least once a week and preferably twice a week. When I'm putting honesty to paper about our marriage and myself as a wife, I find I'm a much better wife. So my goal for the rest of 2011 is to do just that.

I love you always, and I'm sorry, again.

--me.