We had a nice visit with Dennis's parents (and yes, the fudge turned out incredible, thank you!).
It was a crazy week, but I just have to brag on my hubby for a moment here. First of all, he started a new job on Monday, so right off the bat he was feeling extra stress. Then, his parents were here, which was a blessing, but he couldn't take off work like he usually does to spend time with them, which I know was very hard for him. On top of that, it was a crazy sports week. He managed to make it to a softball game, football game, and a volleyball tournament.
Through all that he had such a great attitude. He called to check on me, answered my phone calls, and took what time he had to love on his mama.
On Friday, our mailbox fell over. The base had rusted, and it broke completely off, falling pitifully prostrate into the street. So Saturday, in between volleyball tournament games, he got the supplies he needed to replace the post. "I don't want to leave you next week without a mailbox," he said graciously, not even hinting to his knowledge that my love-language is "acts of service," and that I find him irresistibly attractive when he does nice things for me. He worked on that thing until well after dark, and finally got it done.
About the time he finished the mailbox (just in time to prepare his Sunday school lesson) the shocking horror hit us both: working on the mailbox had taken so much time, we had completely forgotten to get his dry cleaning. Not such a big deal, except that at the cleaners were ALL of his rather slim selection of work clothes, including his favorite clothes. The clothes he was planning on taking to a professional conference Sunday afternoon. A conference at which he was a speaker!
OH. MY. WORD.
Now, if that had been MY clothes at the now-closed-for-the-weekend cleaners (knowing my shopping incapacity), I'm not so sure things wouldn't have been a bit dicey around here - maybe even panic-stricken - at the thought of trying to come up with something to wear (from nothing) on a few hours' notice. Amazingly, however, Dennis was VERY cool about it, and did not offer one moment of blame or resentment.
So Sunday after church, instead of relaxing before his trip, Dennis went shopping. I was home with the kids and called to check on him. "I'm at Sam's Club," he said.
Sam's Club? I thought. You are kidding, right? Hundreds of people are going to see my husband at this conference, and he'll be wearing Sam's pants?
"Why don't you just go to the mall?" I offered. "You need to look nice for this conference."
Then the line that proves he is (a) a man, (b) confident in his manhood, and (c) EVEN tighter than I am:
"Nah. Too many choices. I already got my shirts at Target. Besides, I still have all my clothes at the cleaners. It's just one conference." At which point he broke out in a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday to Me," obviously thrilled with his extravagant purchase of two pairs of pants and two shirts.
He brought home his finds, and I was impressed at what a good job he did. And when I talked with him today, he said things went well at the conference. Seems nobody shunned him, even dressed in his Sam's pants and Target shirts, purchased under extreme duress.
Man, I love that guy.
Clothe yourselves with humility.
1 Peter 5:5