GPS to a Joyful Marriage

When I was 14, my parents brought a little girl into our lives who was a month shy of her fifth birthday.  She had a difficult life prior to that, and my parents wound up adopting her.  Although my father left our family a year-and-a-half later, she found stability in my mother and me and has grown up to be a remarkable woman.  She now lives in the same house, the one I grew up in, with her husband.  She has two grown children and three grandchildren that live nearby.  Life is very simple and satisfying to her.  She has everything she wants. I, on the other hand, left that nest when I was 20 years old.  My childhood started out normal (so I thought) but after my parent’s divorce when I was 16, I became restless and discontented.  I knew I wouldn’t stay in the small town where I grew up.   There had to be something else out there that would satisfy my longing for “more”.  This scenario reminds me of the state of the church.  By no means am I implying my sister’s spiritual jour

It is wonderful to be at the stage of marriage where you accept that your spouse isn’t perfect, you don’t look to them for your happiness, and you no longer hold them accountable for every word that comes out of their mouth.  I would love to be able to tell you that Rick and I only speak words of wisdom to one another, but that’s not the case, even after 32 years of marriage.  We sometimes mess up, usually because of lack of sleep, illness, stress and crazy hormones.  (Or is it the hormones that make me crazy?  Okay, I admit it.  I’m usually the one that says stupid things.) Even when Rick and I do mess up, we are quick with understanding.  I don’t respond (most of the time) until I’ve studied the situation and look at what’s going on with Rick that he would say something insensitive to me.  He does the same for me. (He’s had a lot more practice.)  We’ve broken the cycle of arguing that causes the most grief in a marriage relationship.  It wasn’t always like that. When I met Rick

My fluffy little alarm clocks (Teddy and Stewie, my Yorkies) went off at 7:00 am, their usual time to start their demands for the day.  Usually, I say "No!" to them, "Go to sleep!", and they'll curl back into position with one eye carefully watching for the slightest movement from me. Today was different, though. I had to get up.  I love to lie in bed for an extra 30 minutes before I face the day.  I had an appointment at 9:00 that was 45 minutes away, so I had to get moving. I woke up agitated from a comment my husband made to me the night before.  (I had tried to ignore it and not respond.)  As I prepared breakfast for the boys (how I refer to the dogs), Stewie stayed on the couch and refused to eat.  Great.  He always eats.  Now I would worry about him while I was gone.  He had been very whiny the day before, so I wondered what was wrong.  No time to deal with it right now.  I had an appointment to keep. I got in my car and the "low tire pressure

I hope you all had a joyous Easter weekend and took some time to meditate on the impact of the Resurrection on our lives.  I'm always humbled by the depth of pain and suffering Jesus endured to save us from our sins.  My simple minds struggles to comprehend it all. My favorite Easter tradition is to watch the movie, " Jesus of Nazareth".   It's the best portrayal of the life of Jesus that I've ever seen.  I've also been viewing "The Bible" Sunday evenings on the History Channel. It always amazes me how you can study God's word over and over, yet still receive a new revelation from a story you've heard 100 times before.  Last Sunday, "The Bible" showed the scene with the disciples in the boat and Jesus walking to them on the water.  When Peter stepped out to meet Him, he had a moment of fear and doubt when he looked at the storm around him and began to sink.  Peter didn't just go under a little bit; he plummeted way down belo