Launchpad

As empty nesters my wife and I have created a predictable, functional morning routine that gets our day started.  We begin by going to the local rec center bright and early to open the eyes and get the blood pumping.  When we get home Jana showers while I read the scriptures.  I then cook breakfast for us.

After our morning prayer we eat breakfast and read the scriptures together.  She then heads for the bedroom to read the paper while I wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen.  Together we drive to her bus stop where she catches a commuter bus to work.

The other morning Jana, as she sat on the bus bench while I stood keeping an eye out for the bus, turned to me, pulled aside the hood of her pink winter coat with her bemittened hand and said, "I sure appreciate your driving me to the bus every morning.  It just helps me start my day in a happy way.  You're my launchpad.  You launch me into my day."

What a sweet thing to say.  That made me feel loved and appreciated.  It motivates me to keep doing it, every day.  It's little, unexpected loving things like that, unrequested and often undeserved, that make a marriage – and any valued relationship – one that encourages us to try a little harder to give a little more, to be a little more and to love a little more each day.  I know it does for me.

Ring My Chimes

We had our annual Christmas family night Monday with all the cousins in the area.  There must have been over 50 of us, half under that age of 12 I'm sure.  It's something we all look forward to each year.  It was noisy and rowdy and fun and loud and endearing and a joy.  It's one of those family traditions, started by  my wife's parents many years ago, that keeps us close as an extended family.

Before the evening my dear sister-in-law, LD, had asked if I would lead the children in our traditional bell-ringing Christmas carols.  LD has some colored bells and several years ago made color-coded Christmas carol charts that we can follow and play.  It's one of the things we all look forward to and everyone, young and not, loves to have a turn.

The trick is to corral the youngest bell-carolers in learning how to ring the right-colored bell, at the right time, without pulling on the spring-suspended clappers and not just ringing them continuously.  It's sort of like … well, … like giving a child a bell and telling her not to ring it.

We all had a grand, noisy time and, being that all the children, grandchildren and cousins are above average, they did an amazing job … and we even could hear bits of Christmas melodies ringing amidst the noise.

On the way home Jana and I were alone in the car.  "That was fun.  You did a really great job in controlling the kids and letting them have fun at the same time."   I thanked her. It WAS fun.

After many years of marriage there is a tendency to become so comfortable with your spouse that you don't always acknowledge his or her efforts or deeds or actions (at least not the positive ones).  It is no small thing to keep recognizing your spouse's contributions without keeping a "compliment score".  I am so grateful for Jana's kindness in letting me know when I do things good – or do good things.  It lifts my confidence and makes me even more appreciative of the many "loving things" she constantly does that keep our marriage growing.  She rings my chimes.

(Thanks Lexie for sharing the photos.)

Water Closet Congregation

Several months ago Jana's work schedule changed.  With that change our morning routine changed as well.  We get up a little before 5:00 and head to the Rec Center.  There we work out and energize the start to our day.  Jana generally walks the indoor track and I walk, workout in the weight room or ride a bike.

She usually finishes first and waits a few minutes for me to finish my last lap.  But this morning when I walked off the track Jana was nowhere to be seen.  I looked down the mezzanine that is suspended midway through the building above the gym floor on one side and the pools on the other, lined with every imaginable piece of cardiovascular equipment (and a few unimaginable ones), toward the bathroom end of the second floor.  No Jana.

I asked a woman I know if she had seen my sweetheart.  "I think I saw her on the track."  I thought that was unusual but waited about three minutes to see if she would come 'round the bend.  But she didn't.

I went downstairs to see if she was waiting there for me.  No Jana.

I headed back up again and stood at one end of the mezzanine where, if she came out of hiding somewhere, she'd be sure to see me.  I was a little worried, for two reasons.  One, she is very predictable because after our workout she is anxious to get home and get ready for work.  And two, she is very predictable.

I glanced over at the coat rack where we hang our coats and Jana's grey, oversized BYUI sweatshirt was hanging there.  "Well, she's still in the building" I thought.

After another five minutes I finally saw her, coming out of the women's restroom at the opposite end of the mezzanine.  I walked over and grabbed her sweatshirt so I could help her on with it and as I held it out so she could slip her arm in the sleeve I asked, "Are you all right?" thinking maybe she wasn't feeling well.

"Perfectly.  I was just giving my Sunday School lesson in the loo.  Oh, it's going to be such a good lesson."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes.  I was all alone except for this other lady.  I could have given it out loud because she had her hair dryer on and it was so loud you couldn't hear a thing."

Jana is a wonderful teacher.  She currently teaches the Marriage and Family Relations class in our ward.  I just love her unaffected, matter-of-fact approach to life, like "What's unusual about giving a lesson in the loo?"  That's one of the loving things I appreciate about her.

And I'm sure Jana's water closet congregation really enjoyed the lesson as well.