Whatever Happened to Fun Mom?

 It occurred to me on our recent drive back from vacation in Florida that there's nothing quite like 22 hours in the van to stimulate one's thoughts. 

My kids are to the ages now where I am not spending half the trip picking up sippy cups, stuffed animals, and fruit snacks as fast as they can drop them. My torso is no longer twisted backwards and wedged between the front seats for hundreds of miles at a time.  

As much as I enjoyed those opportunities to test out the limits of my physical and psychological endurance (and sanctification), I must say I am enjoying the new views out the front windshield.  

And Jamey (I'm sure) appreciates my helpful observations about how fast he is driving and what constitutes a safe tailing distance, although sometimes he accidentally turns the radio on so loud that he has trouble hearing me.  Silly guy!

Whenever he does that, I give up and just start eating trip snacks and thinking about stuff...

...and so it happened that I spent a blissful two days grazing my way across six states, pondering the universe.

Don't worry.  I won't burden you with all my ruminations--just two or three states' worth. 


I wrote a blog a few weeks ago about the unique challenges of homeschooling boys, and since then I have continued to observe them, and observe myself with them, and analyze what could make things better because, frankly, none of us is having much fun this year.  

This became clear several weeks ago when I playfully threw my arms around one of my sons and asked, "Who's your favorite mom?"

In the past, this move has elicited laughter and a warm, enthusiastic, "You are!"

This time, my sweet boy thought for a minute and said, "Aunt Nichole."

Ouch.  

Additionally, numerous references have been made to a so-called "Fun Mom" who reportedly used to live here and roast pumpkin seeds and play board games and go on field trips and smile a lot.  I'm not sure she ever existed, but I'm getting tired of hearing about her. 

Actually, let's be honest.  I want to be her, but right now I am too busy walking around telling people to pick up their laundry and finish their math pages and stop hitting each other--in addition to worrying that I will not have Christina's high school transcript done until she is 25.  (Ha ha, Sweetheart!  Don't worry!  I'm almost totally kidding.)

So last week somewhere between Kentucky and Georgia, I mentally pulled out the two women and compared them.  What does Fun Mom have that I don't?

Well first of all, Fun Mom was ten years younger than I am which absolutely does make a difference, but other than that what is her secret?

Here is what I came up with.  Fun Mom was a parenting Pollyanna...er, optimist.  She had done her research and had developed a vision--and a "fool proof" plan to achieve it.  She had small children who were malleable and manageable, and still took naps when she wanted them to.  

Mistakes were made, but she rested in the knowledge that there were still years ahead in which to correct them.  There were frustrations and battles of the will, but deep down she and her children still thought she probably knew everything, and her kiddos gave her countless sticky hugs, and sweetly upturned eyes, and their undivided loyalty to prove her right.  

And life was good!  How can you not be perky and happy and fun and energetic when you know you have life by the horns and you're winning?

Fast forward to the present day.  I still have some of that sweet affirmation from the younger set, but now I am looking at Fun Mom from the other end of that "decade of dreams", and guess what?  I didn't know everything and my older kids are beginning to figure it out.  

This revelation may be one of the explanations for my sudden decrease in cheerful (over)confidence. It could also explain the uptick in worrying and fretting, and the increase in irritation.
   
I have begun to question myself. 

My vision was great, but it turns out there are no "fool-proof parenting plans" which can guarantee  perfectly perfect kids, and that scares me.

Children can grow up in a community of faith, and eat well balanced meals, and have a million, billion questions answered, and be loved and nurtured, and read good books, and be protected from evil, and learn from watching other people get hurt by bad decisions, and have everything explained and discussed and analyzed and contextualized--and still decide to chuck it all someday and dive 20 feet headfirst into a kiddie pool.

Now, I am not intending to scare anyone with this post.  Grandparents, you can rest easy!  I promise I'm not writing this on my way down to spring one of the kids out of juvie. 

It's just that as I pondered the differences between myself and "Fun Mom" on our recent trip, I realized a few things.

My parenting mistakes are becoming more and more obvious.  It appears I did have some bad ideas after all and the number of years I have left to make up for them is dwindling.  That is just a fact, and I never should have thought that I could overcome sin nature (mine or my children's) with perfect parenting tricks.

Meanwhile, I now see that my children are not cute, cuddly extensions of myself.  They are not accessories.  They are not machines.  And they are not simple.

They are large, hungry, willful mysteries.  They are less malleable than I thought they were ten years ago and less manageable than I expected they would be by now.  

In short, they are a lot like me.

I am seeing many good things in my almost-growns, but because they are developing minds of their own, making more and more decisions on their own, and often navigating friendships, jobs, and classes without me, I am feeling a little bit panicked and powerless.  

I made some mistakes they could learn from, but are they really listening?  I know some things that could save them from pain and heartache, but are they interested?  I love them enough to die for them, but will that be enough to keep them safe?

I still think that many of my children hold me in high esteem, but I know they have begun to see my feet of clay and they no longer think I am infallible.  Will they still respect me?  Will my failings obscure the truth I have tried to speak into their lives?

I can (and do) observe them and cultivate relationships with them and draw them into conversations, and offer them counsel and support and direction, but I am seeing that I don't have as much control of their inner landscapes as I thought I did.  

My finger is not so surely on the spiritual pulse of every child as it once was when they parroted back Awana verses and catechisms at my knee.  

To top it off, the world has also begun to offer up competing philosophies.  Words and images and ideas are coming at them faster than I can ever hope to filter them.  Will they buy in?  Will truth speak louder?  Only God knows.

So where do these musings leave an earnest and well-meaning Mama?

First, there are a few things I would like to tell "Fun Mom".  What you may lose over the years in relentless positivity you will gain in compassionate humility.  Better moms than you have "done it right" and watched a beloved fledgling fall from a feathered nest into a pit of vipers.  

You will learn to love those ladies more and judge them less as you experience what it means to release your babies one by one into a dangerous world.  As careful as you have been, one day it might be your child hurt and your broken heart and love is what you will need.

Secondly, you need to pray more and plan less.  You may get glimpses inside your children's hearts.  You may be able to bend their ear for a season.  You may earn their trust and experience their love, but only God can save them.  Give them to Him on your knees, every day, as often as you can.  This will keep you from becoming trapped in either pride or panic.

And you can't try to do everything, or you will burn out (like I did) and stop doing anything.  If you don't sign up for every single field trip, or check every single box on the curriculum guide, or volunteer to help for every single church and co-op event, the world won't collapse.  Really!

Fun Mom, if you are not careful you can wear yourself out trying to give your older children every possible experience--to the point where your little ones are getting crumbs.  I did that.  

The inside of the public library is a place shrouded in mystery for my youngest kids, and I'm pretty sure they think a field trip is when I am dragging them through the grocery store on the way back from the dentist.  It wasn't like that for my first few children.  I am now having to discover what balance looks like, and it is not easy.

On the flip side, I could learn a few things from Fun Mom.  Part of my general, overall discouragement and crankiness comes from selfish irritation over my kids' failures.  After all my good-faith efforts, they still disobey me, give in to laziness, thwart my plans, and fail to meet expectations. 

Frankly, that irks me.  It bothers me that after all my hard work and careful planning, my kids didn't sign on. How can this be?  I gave them the rules, the road map, and the rationale, and yet...? 

It turns out they are cut from the same willful and unpredictable cloth as the rest of humanity.

And I am taking it personally.  

But it is not about me.  If they fail or sin or stray, they are more apt to hurt themselves than anyone else.  And of course they are missing out on the great blessing of living under the perfect, protective plans of God.  

So why am I taking such offense?  Why are my hackles raised so easily?  Why is it so tempting to blow out my personal frustrations on this small, captive audience?

Let's go back to Fun Mom for a moment.  For all her faults, she was a natural encourager.  Her heart was toward her children even as she corrected them, and this often made her discipline into a form of nurture.  

And isn't this how God interacts with us? 

Despite the fact that He had the ultimate right to take offense at our sin, He chose to lay down His rights on our behalf, taking the burden for our souls upon Himself.  Philippians 2:5-8

His love was costly and lavish, and in the same way His discipline is for our benefit.  He chastens us to mold us, prune us, and make us flourish.  He desires to loosen our grasp on the things that hurt us and return us to perfect, loving communion with Him.

His correction has always had restoration at it's heart, and that is how mine should be as well.

Fun Mom looked on the bright side, expecting that each failure was a temporary lapse which would be followed in time by a return to the loving connection that she and her children shared.  

She had faith.

Now, too often her faith was misplaced--put into plans and methods and theories, sometimes even in herself, but the impulse was right. 

Each infraction my children commit does not have to be viewed as a personal affront, or horriblized into a projection for a bleak future for the offender. 

If God's grace is sufficient to cover and correct my many failings, then it can do the same for theirs.

If His forgiveness and encouragement can outlast my perpetual stubbornness, then my forgiveness and encouragement should be freely given as well.  

As I see it, my job should be to administer only as much discipline as is needed to remind my children's hearts where the good path lies--without any of my own punitive, self-centered irritation and ego mixed in.  

This leaves space for calm consideration and measured responses, and for lighthearted, hopeful interactions--even in the midst of correction.  Fun Mom was good at this, and my hope is that I can re-learn what she once knew. 

So, here is the one word summation of my cogitation:  Encouragement.  

I had it.  I lost it.  I need it back. 

It is such a powerful force!  Essential, really.

It is a gentle but powerful weapon, able to soften hearts and change minds, but it can only be wielded by souls who have learned the art of loving beyond themselves.  

As I thought through the times in my life (like right now) when I have been bowed under the weight of natural consequences or self-condemnation, I realized how refreshing it has been to look up and see that someone is there, willing and waiting to help me up. As Christians, this is what we are called to do for each other. 

Galatians 6:1-2 speaks about it directly. 

It says, "Brothers and sisters, if someone is caught in a sin, you who live by the Spirit should restore that person gently. But watch yourselves, or you also may be tempted. Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ."

Although there is no question that we should be helping each other through the external burdens of grief, sickness, financial hardship, etc. the particular "burdens" mentioned in this passage refer directly back to painful situations caused by sin.  

If am to "gently restore" a grown-up brother when he is caught in sin, what about my own vulnerable and dependent children?  Shouldn't they be the first to receive gentle, encouraging, grace-filled correction from me?   

Shouldn't I be willing to speak, and wait, and love with soft eyes and a patient heart?  Shouldn't I carry their "burdens" a little farther before I give in to frustration or give up in despair?

Isn't that what I want others to do for me?  Yep.

So here's to Fun Mom!  Or at least "A-Little-Bit-Funner-Mom." (Baby steps)  May her smiling face once again be seen in my home...

...minus her delusions of invincibility, her serious over-confidence, and her tendencies toward over-commitment, of course;)

************

 Romans 15:4-5

For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope!  

 May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus.

  

For My Kids: A Glimpse of What You're Made Of

This blog is primarily for my children, although my husband's parents, Mom and Dad Birmingham, will rightfully enjoy it as well;) 

Kids, here is what you need to know.

I love you turkeys!  

A lot. 

I know you might get tired of my constant "pep talks" about working with excellence, and being diligent, and choosing kindness, and why we change our socks.  

Believe me, I get as tired of saying this stuff as you do hearing it, but there are reasons why I am spending the prime years of my life standing behind you with an armload of books, a bull horn, and a bar of soap.  

You are bundles of potential.  You have beautiful gifts and talents.  You are blessed with health and intelligence.  You have energy and vigor and youth and I believe you could be used as instruments of peace and discovery and healing in a twisted, broken, and pain-wracked world.  

No pressure:)

Seriously.  I don't expect you to fix thousands of years of damage all by yourselves, but I do know that God could use you here if you will let Him.  

The truth is that in order to be ready for that good work, you will need to put in some effort on the front end.  

Starting now.

It requires using your hours and minutes wisely.  

It means learning self discipline and self denial.

It means bending your ear to wise counselors...

And struggling against laziness and lethargy.

And living up to reasonable expectations.

And exercising humility.

And choosing kindness.

And standing up against evil, wherever it is found.

And seeking knowledge.

And caring about people.

And striving for excellence.

And laughing at yourself.

And loving truth.


And trusting God.

And while all these things may seem overwhelming when viewed in a pile, they are individually within your grasp.

Beautiful lives are built by choosing one small, good thing after another.  

Small steps and little decisions set the path for an entire lifetime.  

Don't be discouraged by the fact that it is hard, because it is hard.  

All the best things are.

And don't be discouraged when you feel like a rubber ducky being swallowed by a tidal wave of apathetic drifters.  

You are loved by the King of the Universe.  If you belong to Him, you are safe.

You are also loved by your parents.  Forever.  This doesn't mean you won't ever hurt us or disappoint us.  It just means you cannot lose our love and that we will never give up on you.  No matter what.  

It is with this preface that I offer to you a glimpse of what can happen when a shy, small boy from a big family takes one hard step and then another, and with God's help, builds a life which has brought honor to his parents, and earned respect from his colleagues, gratitude from his patients, and love from his family.  

This man is not a natural extrovert.  He is not flashy.  He is quiet and thoughtful and prone to being reclusive.  He didn't love school or thrive in social situations.  He was a boy of few words who wanted to live mainly in his own head.  (Ask his mom how many times she found him hiding in the garage--hours after she had sent him off to school.)

But he grew up and met God, and learned to embrace life with all it's joys and challenges and opportunities and roadblocks.  And he has made a difference in the lives of many people.

This man is your Daddy, and I don't want you to learn these special things about him from his obituary one day.  

You should know whose footsteps you walk in.  You are all cut of the same stuff as he is, and you all serve the same God, so no matter what field of ministry you end up in, whether it be in medicine, or music, or manufacturing, or motherhood, you can shine!

Your Daddy is modest and does not talk about his achievements, which is why I had to wait until he was inducted into his high school's hall of fame last weekend, swipe his official bio, and then post it behind his back in order to make sure you knew:)  Sorry Jamey!  

 Mom and Dad Birmingham, congratulations on raising such a fine son!  Jamey, we are all so proud of you.

Hall of Fame Bio.

Dr. James Birmingham, a 1990 graduate of Roy C. Start High School, finished 6^th in his graduating class after a four year career with the Spartan football team.  He was an Academic All City Honoree in his senior year.   

In high school, he earned three varsity letters for football, and was a member of the National Honor Society, serving one year as its vice president.  He was also a member of the Spanish Honor Society, and was elected Homecoming King in his senior year.  He earned a number of academic scholarships, including one from the Toledo Old Newsboys.

Following high school, Jamey, as he is known by his friends and family, embarked upon a four year Bachelor of Science degree in biology and chemistry at Hillsdale College.   

During his college years, he was an active member of the Sigma Chi fraternity, the Beta Beta Beta national biological honor society, and the Sigma Zeta national science and mathematics honor society.  He also participated for two years as walk-on for the Hillsdale Chargers football team as a scout team wide receiver.  

Upon graduation, he was accepted into The Ohio State University College of Medicine where he completed his doctor of medicine degree in 1998.  During his first year at Ohio State, he was married to his lovely wife, Sandra. Additionally, he was commissioned as a 2^nd Lieutenant in the US Army Medical Corp as part of the Health Professions Scholarship program.  During this commission he served two active duty training periods in San Antonio at Brook Army Medical Center before an illness led to an honorable discharge from the Army.  

At this juncture, he then pursued a civilian residency program in Internal Medicine and Pediatrics.  He received his top choice for residency at the Michigan State University in Grand Rapids.  His residency got off to a rocky start when, on the weekend before he was to begin his training, he was burned in an accident and was hospitalized in a burn unit for five days. 

Despite this event and the need to undergo two other surgical procedures during his four year program, he finished on time and graduated with his incoming class in 2002.  For the following year, he worked as a hospitalist and emergency room physician in a small community hospital, building upon experiences gained during his residency. 

 

Following this brief one year hiatus from formal education, Jamey began his fellowship in Adult and Pediatric Rheumatology at Duke University in 2003.  Once again, he had to fight through several illness-induced setbacks, including being diagnosed with psoriatic arthritis and experiencing complications from a major knee surgery.  Despite these difficulties, he completed his fellowship in the allotted time and along the way initiated a clinical trial for prevention of cartilage damage following acute knee injuries in humans.   

Other highlights of his time at Duke include the submission of several research grants, the opportunity to present nearly two dozen academic talks to residents, fellows, and staff, and the publication of a number of scholarly works, including annual rheumatology meeting abstracts, review articles, and clinical trial results. 

  Among his most impactful work was his role as primary investigator in an interventional trial intended to help prevent degenerative joint disease by interrupting interleukin 1 signaling within the knee following acute trauma.  The goal of this pilot research is to facilitate the prevention and possible cure of osteoarthritis, particularly following injury.   

After completion of his fellowship and board examinations, he held four board certifications, including two in Internal medicine and Rheumatology from the American Board of Internal Medicine, and two more certifications in Pediatrics and Rheumatology from the American Board of Pediatrics.

From Duke, Dr. Birmingham returned to Grand Rapids, MI as an associate professor of medicine affiliated with Michigan State University, where he was named Division Chief of the first ever pediatric rheumatology division at the Helen Devos Children’s hospital.  

 During his time in these roles, he has maintained a busy clinical practice while remaining active in academics, teaching medical students, nursing students, and medical and pediatric residents.  He also instructs faculty and staff of affiliated hospitals through direct mentorship, lectures, and grand rounds presentations.  He has also continued to pursue research opportunities, including various clinical trials, patient registries (including the Childhood Arthritis and Rheumatology Research Association, CARRA), and several case series, achieving nearly a dozen national publications. 

His research work has included publication of important findings regarding the use of interleukin 1 inhibition therapy in patients with systemic onset juvenile arthritis (e.g. the RAPPORT study) well as the use of IL-1 inhibitor therapy for critically ill patients with macrophage activation syndrome.   

These studies have helped to provide numerous children with a life changing therapy--one which involves less toxicity and morbidity than previous treatment options, impacting a change in treatment guidelines nationally.  

 In addition to his academic and clinical activities, Jamey has served as an advocate for childhood arthritis awareness through local television and newspaper interviews, and promotion of the Arthritis Foundation annual walk and the Jingle Bell Run.  

Recently, Jamey has also co-authored two chapters of Nelson’s Textbook of Pediatrics on juvenile onset spondyloarthritis and reactive arthritis. 

During his time in work and academics, Jamey has endeavored to keep his family and his faith at the forefront of all his activities.  He has participated actively in his churches from Columbus, to Grand Rapids, to Durham, and back to the Grand Rapid area including volunteer activities, sports teams, and ministry support.   

His family has grown to include seven children, ranging in age from 5 to 19, including four adopted through foster care.  Jamey enjoys spending time with his wife of 20 years, especially reading and discussing good books with her.  They homeschool their children, and they both enjoy time spent as a family, playing games, reading, and doing Bible studies, as well as attending the vast array of their children’s sports and musical events! 

 

Jamey is grateful to his parents and family for their love and support, and for the teachers and coaches he learned from during his years at Start High School.  He appreciates the role they all played in helping instill in him an interest about the world, inspiring him to work hard, and encouraging him to pursue his goals. 

50 Shades of Grey, or 500 Shades of Gratitude?

 Despite being warned by a vast and articulate army of bloggers, editorial writers, social commentators, and real-life victims about the destructive and abusive content of the new "50 Shades of Grey" movie, it posted the second strongest February opening ever last weekend--next to Mel Gibson's "Passion of the Christ". 

First, may I point out that there is a sort of dreadful irony about this fact? 

Secondly, I think that a culture which openly embraces (via their movie dollars) the debasement, humiliation, and abuse of women shows itself to be--if not dead--at least terminally ill.  (And this may be the only time you will ever hear me advocate for euthanasia.)

Thirdly, I am heartbroken for the legions of women (the audience was almost 70% female) who have been duped into thinking that there is anything attractive about being stalked, dominated, and violated by a man.  

But I'm not surprised.  Hasn't there been an enemy working against true Love since human history began?  

Do his tactics ever change?

When God says, "Love is patient," Satan whispers, "Lies! Love takes what it wants, when it wants it."

God says, "Love is kind."

Satan says, "Love is cruel."

God says, "Love does not envy."

Satan says, "Love never settles.  If someone has what you want, take it."

God says, "Love does not boast."

Satan says, "Love is egotistical and conceited."

God says, "Love is not proud."

Satan says, "Love is domineering and dismissive."

God says, "Love does not dishonor others."

Satan says, "Love involves disgrace and degradation."

God says, "Love is not self-seeking."

Satan says, "Love is rapacious and predatory.  It looks out for #1."

God says, "Love is not easily angered."

Satan says, "Love is caustic and painful."

God says, "Love keeps no record of wrongs."

Satan says, "Love has a ledger, and forgiveness has an endpoint."

God says, "Love does not delight in evil."

Satan says, "Any dark thing goes, as long as someone is enjoying it."

God says, "Love rejoices in truth."

Satan says, "Forbidden pleasures taste sweetest."

God says, "Love always protects."

Satan says, "Love ravishes and destroys."

God says, "Love trusts."

Satan says, "Better not.  Love is uncertain and dangerous."

God says, "Love hopes."

Satan says, "Love is a farce, a lie, a losing game."

God says, "Love perseveres."

Satan says, "Love is disposable and transient.  An illusion meant for gullible fools."

So whom do you believe?  The Author and very definition of love?

Or the one who has been trying to distort and destroy it from the beginning?

And if we believe in the Author of love, what part do we have with it's sworn enemy?  

But it goes beyond this.

Because if we accept God's definition of love, I think our loyalty ought to extend past the rejection of obvious perversion.

It should reach toward the ideal.  It should fix its eyes on what is good and true and strive to grow in that direction.

The other day, one of my children enlightened me about a curious phenomenon known as "sensory adaptation". 

 During this process (which, he informed me, is not yet fully understood) whenever our noses pick up a constant smell--good, bad, or ugly--for a while our brain attempts to process the odor and classify it as "pleasant", "unpleasant", or "dangerous".  

Eventually, if we do not remove ourselves from the environment, our brain stops identifying the scent, and our olfactory sensory neurons adapt to the repetitive odor stimuli by reducing their rate of firing--so as not to be overloaded with redundant information. 

When this happens, although the odor has not changed, we then perceive the smell to be fading, which allows us to adapt to our environment and discern new smells.  

While this was helpful in explaining how a 12 and 10 year old boy can be oblivious to the stench of their sweaty basketball clothes under the bed for three days, it also brought to mind a similar--but not nearly so helpful--phenomenon in relationships.  

When a romance is in its beginning stages, every moment spent together is infused with magic.  The lover marvels at the glint of sunlight in his beloved's hair and the intoxicating flutter of her eyelashes against her cheek.  

She moves with unparalleled grace and beauty. Her voice is like music.  Surely, no lovelier specimen of femininity has ever walked the earth! 

 And when the beloved gazes upon her lover--behold!  A white knight!  

Amazing.  Handsome.  Clever.  His smile makes her catch her breath.  

Surely he is a man of rare wisdom and wit, and--wonder of wonders!--his manly visage is filled with tenderness for her alone!

Fast forward seven years and three kids, and too often the wife now sees her lover as a man of rare tactlessness and vulgarity, and the only thing that makes her catch her breath is the amount of laundry he produces.   

Meanwhile he is marveling at how often his "beloved" manages to block the television screen with her irritating self.  As for her hair, he hasn't seen it out of a ponytail in over two years.  And her voice?  Surely, no crabbier specimen of femininity has ever walked the earth!

What happened?  Are they truly different people?  Was there a "bait and switch"?

My contention is that we are prone to a form of "sensory adaptation" in our relationships.  The attributes and habits which enthrall us at the beginning become ordinary and unremarkable--or even irritating.  

The everyday graces are taken for granted, and the daily grind magnifies our quirks and flaws until we slip...

...into a numb tolerance.  The lover and the beloved have not necessarily lost their charms.  They've just become immune to one another.

Relationship adaptation.

And then comes the steady creep of dissatisfaction, and the hunger for the sweetness of the love that once was, and then...secret, sideways glances at the office, or flickering bodies on a computer screen, or the red hot words of a 500 page "romance" novel.

It is the enemy's answer to sensory adaptation.  "Love takes what it wants."

"Love looks out for #1 (since no one else will)..."

And finally, "Forbidden pleasures taste sweetest."

And we trade the tangible reality of true love for the falsity of fantasy.  

We give up an infinite spectrum of beauty for shades of grey.


Oh, Sleepers, awake!  The cure for this kind of "sensory adaptation" is found in the fresh infusion of a new scent!  

A breath of kindness.  A touch of patience.  A glimpse of grace.  The remembrance of mercy given and mercy received.

The delicate fragrance of hope.

It requires effort in both being and perceiving.

And this is where gratitude gives its gifts.  

Gratitude is like a pair of glasses for the soul.

It allows us to see wonder in the mundane.  

It enables us to move past twitterpation (heart flutters, sleepless pining, and goo-goo eyes) into the comfortable familiarity of functional love--without losing any of the tenderness and affection we started out with with.  

It's a love-preserver!

Intentional gratitude causes the lover to see his wife wipe a dribble of squash off a tiny chin and be moved by her beauty.
  
It warms the heart of the beloved when she watches her husband snoring open-mouthed on the couch with one child on his chest and another under his arm.

It recognizes trips to the grocery store, and mowing the lawn, and changing the oil, and packing the lunches, and making the beds, and driving to Little League, and balancing the checkbook, and folding the laundry as love letters, capable of moving the lover and the beloved from the shallow swirls and eddies of new affection into the deep, powerful currents of committed love.  

That's what we were made for.

That's what I want.  It's what I have.

Not 50 shades of grey, 500 shades of gratitude.

And real love.