Meat & Potatoes

Today I am thankful for a husband that I can hang out with an laugh.  I am also very thankful that he is not perfect, and that those imperfections continue to drive me toward my heavenly Father, who is perfect.

I don't mean this as an affront to the Hubs.  He's great.  Spectacular, even.  He can make beautiful things out of plain old wood from Lowe's and make me laugh til I cry and fall out of my chair.  He can know my heart before I do and comfort me before I realize I've been hurt.

But the boy is not perfect.  He'll say, in the middle of what I would call a romantic moment, "I wish those curtains were ironed." and never intend to pick up the iron himself.  He'll critique a dinner I rushed home to make after a long day and forget things like tact and social etiquette. 

See, when I was single, I wanted a skinny hipster guy who could write a song about me then perform it in a coffeeshop.  That life that I had imagined would have met a lot of my expectations, and yet, I would have been so apprehensive about it.  Because what I wanted was for someone to love me unconditionally, romantically and perfectly.  But I would have, even through all the coffeeshop serenades, been left apprehensive about losing that sugary sweet romance.

What we have now is not perfect, but it is real.  Instead of a fluffy, melt in your mouth cotton candy sweetness, it's a hearty meat and potatoes kind of love.  It takes some time to chew, and there may be a lump or two in the potatoes, but it's filling and balanced and healthy.  It leaves you satisfied.

I had wanted dessert, but God gave us a meal instead.  The most beautiful thing, though, is that even after you eat a hearty meal, you'll be hungry again.  God is the giver of the food, of the love, of the ability to share this life with my best friend.  And I am so thankful that, through the beautiful moments and the curtains that need ironed, he points me to Him.