Monday, December 26, 2011

My amazing Christmas gift

I try not to stress about events.

If you know me, you probably doubt the truth of that statement.

But it's true.

I try really hard.

Last week as I was looking toward holiday gatherings and preparations, I was thinking about getting ready to host the gathering with my dad and brothers.Since we planned to gather Monday, I figured Sunday would be a good day to clean the house. Any earlier would be a futile effort with a 5, 3-year-old and 20 month old.

Not that I didn't plan to cherish celebrating Christmas Day with my husband and kids. I just remember years past when the kids are settled in playing with new toys with my husband and I had some down time.

Perfect time to clean, right?

Christmas Day came, and my husband and I were happily planted in our respective easy chairs while the children played.

Candles lit. Pandora tuned to the Acoustical Christmas channel.

Good books and magazine articles untouched for months enticed me to remain.

"I can get it all done in the morning," I rationalized. They aren't coming until 10 a.m.

In the morning I found myself putting off getting ready so I could enjoy a leisurely breakfast.

Then it was 8:15 a.m.

Water-spattered bathroom mirror, crumbs hiding around corners, under tables, hand-print speckled appliances ... oh my goodness, I better get started!

Bathroom done. Kitchen swept and mopped. Surfaces wiped.

9:00 a.m.

Taking stock of that yet to be done, I sweetly called down to my husband, "I know I joked about you vacuuming the stairs last night, but ... could you so I can go get ready?"

"Sure."

"Both sets of stairs and the living room?"

"Sure."

As I was getting ready I heard the vacuum make its way up the stairs and anticipated the humming would cease.

 Then I heard it continue down the hall.

I peaked out of our room to see my husband heading into our daughter's room.

Finally I heard the hum outside the bathroom door in our room.

Then I hear Lucas' tiny voice. "Daddy, why are you vacuuming?"

"Because the floor is dirty," Daddy answers.

I smile and am filled with the warmth of love.

Not, "because your mother asked me to." Not. "I'm helping mommy."

"Because the floor is dirty."

That's the man God knew I needed.

That's MY husband.

Merry Christmas to me.