When Husband comes home, I want our family to be as peaceful and content as possible. I want the counters clear, the air fresh, the children calm, and me well put together.

It rarely happens that way, to be honest. Not because I don’t want it to. I really, really want to. My time management is off. But today it was on!

I was exercised, showered, and the kids packed for a picnic on the property when Husband brought Reade home from work.

Excited for him to be home, I greeted him at the garage door and in the same instant *splash*splotch* our bowl of compost spilled onto and behind the range. Grrrr. Husband cannot get a peaceful arrival for anything.

As I cleaned up the mess, scrubbing not-recently-scrubbed spots along the way, something occurred to me. I think it is significant. Maybe not.

I am grateful for Husband. And I tell him so. I often tell him I love him. And I also say, “Thank you.”

He provides a life for our family that is dreamy. We don’t go a lot or buy a lot or eat out a lot. But that’s not at all what life is about. We can stretch. We can run barefoot in the yard at 1:30pm in February and not worry that a nosey neighbor will called DSS. We can BE.

I am so grateful. Thank you.

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