Monday, March 26, 2012

My Knight in Orange Crocs

This morning started like most school mornings; alarm clock, snooze button, bible study & iced tea, (I never have caught on to that coffee thing - just give me an iced beverage and "Katie-bar-the-door"!) We'd had our snuggle-ups, and were in the midst of the morning rush -  downing breakfast, donning the uniforms and getting in the car.
Monday's are my Sabbath. My day of rest. My time set aside to recharge. So on Mondays the Stig takes the wheel in the carpool line. I get A&E ready for school and out the door, and he pretty much handles things from there.
So E's dawdling over a bowl of rice krispies and bemoaning the fact that I only allow ONE tablespoon of sugar to be added to the milk/cereal mixture. "A" has chosen pop-tarts (I know... the breakfast of champions) and as God would have it, ran from the kitchen because nature was calling.  I am standing next to the fridge, swathed in my fluffy pink towel wrap getting the last of the lunches packed. I shut the door on the fridge, hear an awful sliding noise, feel something heavy hit my left kidney, and then the sound of shattering glass and the skittering of 1,000,852 pieces of glass as they trail across my tile floor.
Before I really have time to process what has happened, I scream. And I don't mean the sweet, "Honey? Can you come into the kitchen for a sec?" I mean SCREAM for the Stig. It was guttural, it was full of fear and it was not in the slightest bit sweet. I knew I was cut, but I had no idea what my real injuries were. I was imagining (at the speed of light) all manner of things.
It was at this point that I realized that E was still in the room. I calmed my voice and told her, in no uncertain terms, to stay put. The Stig comes flying into the room, toothbrush hanging from his mouth, as I hear the water for his shower heating up, and "A" singing to herself (probably into a hairbrush at the bathroom mirror.)
The Stig takes one look at the situation and sees that I am barefoot and bleeding. He tells me where to put my foot down, throws me a towel to staunch the bleeding (which all by the way were just nicks & grazes - no real damage) and leads me out of the kitchen.
I look back at E who is munching away at Snap*Crackle*&Pop, say a quick thank you prayer that she was way out of the line of shrapnel and that "A" for all intents and purposes is indisposed with an audition for American Bathroom Idol.
And it hits me... right between the eyes, as my husband runs for his orange Crocs (did I blog that out loud?), and sweeps up my mess, still with the toothbrush firmly gripped in his mouth. I'm not doing this alone. This man is so good to me. When I screamed, he came running. He is so precious to me - but how often I forget.
I have two friends who right now, because of life/work situations are separated from their husbands. What would they have done this morning if the glass top to their cake pedestal had fallen off their refrigerators. Would they have skyped their husbands mid-scream? Would they have reached for their cell phones before the broom? Probably not. They would have braved the wreckage, rolled up their sleeves (because who really runs around in a fluffy pink towel wrap in the mornings, right?) and gotten the job done.
I am blessed beyond belief. Most days I know it. Some days I need reminders. Today was a noisy, bloody reminder - that man is to be cherished and loved. He is to be respected both in my words and in the tone of them. He is to be honored in his home and outside as well. He is mine - and I must take care of what had been given to me.
One of my devotions, Proverbs 31 Ministries posted to Facebook today, "In the way we talk, think and act... 'Be kind to each other, tenderhearted... (and forgiving)'" Ephesians 4:32 Oh, sweet friend how I needed to be reminded of that today!
So tonight, as I set the table for our Celebration Dinner (it was report card weekend - and we're celebrating progress both big & small, academic & character driven) I'm going to make sure I find a way to honor the Stig... my hero. Maybe an aluminum foil crown - for my knight in shining armor. Who came to my rescue today! And maybe as we sit around the table, eating hot dogs by candle light, I'll find just the right words to tell him again how very much I love him!
I'm heading in to mop the floor by hand - I think I only picked up 1,000,843 pieces of glass and we all know there really were 1,000,852! On my knees Lord, more of you and less of me!

1 comment:

  1. The Stig is a very special man. How much more special could he be? He was hand picked BY God for YOU. Yes our heavenly father loves you and He loves the Stig - to bless the both of you with each other... it is a perfect match! I know you found a way to honor him in your creative way.