It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
Theodore RooseveltLessons from a Food Processor
I started out with good intentions. I wanted to make a chocolate-banana smoothie for the family for breakfast. My first obstacle came in the form of a dirty blender. This wouldn’t have been a problem except that I was in a hurry.
I quickly made a Plan B: I pulled out the food processor, wondering why I don’t use it more often. After locking in all the parts, I poured in the chocolate shake and added banana chunks. When I turned on the machine, nothing happened. I checked the outlet in the wall, the locking mechanism, everything I could think of, and still no movement at all. As I lifted the container off of the processor, I discovered a chocolate puddle. More investigation revealed a line on the side of the food container that says, “Maximum liquid line”. Oops! I had added more liquid than the container would hold, so it leaked down through the mechanisms that turn the motor.
This was about the moment my husband walked into the kitchen. He laughed. I told him what I thought about his laughter.
So I washed the blender and made a smoothie. Then I washed the food processor, the counter, and laid the machine on its side so the chocolate ooze could drain back out of the motor. The smoothie tasted great, and the food processor eventually recovered–it still works!
Here’s what I learned from my food processor mess:
1. Messes happen. They are a part of life. I should expect messes and spend less energy trying to ignore them.
2.Sometimes shortcuts aren’t really shortcuts. The things I do to save time often stem from impatience, not ingenuity.
3. Good intentions don’t ensure success. But it’s still good to have good intentions!
4. Sometimes people laugh at my mistakes. What matters is how I respond to my own mistakes.
5. It takes time to clean up messes. That’s OK. It’s worth the effort.
6. Good things can come out of my messes.
7. There is more than one way to reach a goal, so keep trying and don’t give up.
A gem is not polished without rubbing, nor a man perfected without trials.
Chinese Proverb
Dear Mark
Soon we will celebrate 28 years of marriage.
As we approach this milestone, we’ve both had conversations with friends asking, how do you stay together that long? We don’t have any simple, fail-proof answers because relationships don’t work that way. But still it has me wondering.
What makes a marriage of 28 years?
10,220 days. 245,280 hours. 14,716,800 minutes. 883,008,000 seconds.
883,008,000 seconds. We are well on our way to a billion seconds. Why measure a marriage in seconds? Because our thoughts run in seconds, and how we both think is how we make a marriage. Thank you for thinking well of me and expressing it. Thank you for loving me in those moments that I’ve displayed “stinkin thinkin”. Thank you for being humble enough to admit when your own thinking is wrong. Thank you for allowing thoughts of honor and trust and hope to prevail in those moments when your emotions are running hard in another direction. Thank you for thinking for our marriage instead of against it.
14,716,800 minutes. Why measure a marriage in minutes? Because most things we do take minutes. I can’t count the small ways you have loved me with your actions. Quick phone calls in the middle of your busy to ask me how my day is going. Small gifts randomly given just because you thought of me. My dishwashing, lawnmowing, enchilada making, toilet fixing, laundry starting best friend is what you are. And how many minutes have we spent talking and listening to each other? Too many to count. These aren’t measures of your love, but tangible expressions of it. Thank you for loving me with your minutes.
245,280 hours. Hours are how we spend our time. I know your billable hourly rate, so I can say without doubt that marrying me is the most expensive thing you’ve ever done. Thank you for lavishly spending hours with me. And what fun we’ve had! Walks around the neighborhood, through parks, on mountain trails, down unfamiliar city streets. Adventures of bike rides and snorkeling, kayaking, snowshoeing. Good food and good loving, travel and discovery–I would spend it all again on you.
10,220 days. How do you measure a marriage in days? Some days are tough, many are forgettable. A few golden days get etched in our memories. But each new day is a new beginning, a script waiting to be written by the grace that we receive and by the choices that we make. For 10,220 days we have both said (consciously or unconsciously), “I choose you.” I choose you over all others. I choose you in the midst of a hundred other things vying for my attention. I choose you even when the wheels seem to be falling off. Thank you for choosing me. I still choose you.
Happy Anniversary, my best friend and lover, father to my children, strong man of faith.
I respect you more with each passing year. And I thank God for His grace that carries us and for giving me the gift of you.
Love,
Pam