Tuesday, October 9, 2012

The Dangers of Home Improvement

Stephen and I recently moved into our first home (we lovingly refer to her as Cashablanca) and although it's only a few years old, we've been doing some beautification over the past few weeks to make it our own. On Saturday we ventured out to Home Depot and purchased some shelving for our laundry room and bedroom closet to give us additional storage space. We figured it would take us a couple of hours to install three shelving units because, come on, how hard could it be? Well for those of you other shelving rookies out there be warned...those suckers are tricky. The "couple of hours" we thought it would take quickly turned into a 2 day project. Yep that's right, 3 shelves...2 days. In retrospect I realize it may have gone a little quicker if I had done something besides supervise Stephen, but I regress. After all, I'm pretty great at the supervisory position (being the loving, supportive wife that I am).  

Moving on...fast forward to Sunday afternoon. Stephen is in the laundry room trying to finish up the beast we know as shelf #2.  While he was working on that I decided to start organizing my lovely silver and other serving pieces we got from our wedding showers onto shelf #1.  Once I finished I had a bout of OCD and decided to rearrange the pieces on shelf #1 because it didn't look the way I wanted it to.  Stephen heard me grunting and groaning as I took boxes down and offered to help me.  As he was doing this, he somehow managed to knock one of the silver pieces off the shelf, hitting me in the head with it.  The result was a large bloody gash above my hairline. Naturally I started crying.  **Note to the reader: I'm an ultra sensitive gal.**  Stephen, being no stranger to my tears, got me a tissue, helped me mend my wound, and got me an ice pack and 2 Excedrin.  When I finally stopped seeing stars I walked back into the laundry room to make sure none of our new gifts had broken in the shelf debacle (you know, priorities).  I walked in to find the guilty culprit of my blunt force trauma laying on the ground...





Stephen and I couldn't help but laugh.  Kinda ironic that the tray was engraved with the word "Grace."  Ironic for 2 reasons.  First, because I'm a total clutz and my friends and family lovingly call me Grace from time to time.  Secondly, because in the two short weeks we've been married (and over the course of our dating) I've learned that if there's one thing you need an abundance of in any relationship it's grace.  When I lose my temper...grace, when I'm feeling irritable...grace, when I say something I don't mean...grace, when I burn dinner...grace, when your husband leaves the toilet seat up and you get a mad case of wet butt...grace, when your husband accidentally gashes your head open...grace.  So how do we become more gracious?  By looking to the Father who pours an abundance of grace on us on a daily basis. 

 We are all in need of grace, and when it comes to our spouse we have to learn to let the little things go, forgive and forget, and just learn to laugh at ourselves.  Have you been hit over the head with grace this week?  I have.   

 "Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need." -Hebrews 4:16 (ESV)




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1 comment:

  1. I LOVE this story. You should tell it to the Lemlys. They could use it in their marriage classes! I'm glad you could get hit over the head with Grace and laugh about it. I'm also glad to see how Stephen took such good care of you.

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