Walking on Broken Glass

Because we stayed up til 2 am chatting (we - maybe more like, I - like to do that sometimes), and because we think Jim might be coming down with a wee bit of the cold, we decided to sleep in until 7:30 today.

I needed the little extra snooze because I had this crazy sequence of dreams that we were being held hostage by these super emo teenagers with guns, which made for a pretty restless night. Anyway, Jim got up to get ready for work as I caught the last few minutes of shut-eye for the day. I could hear him pouring his cereal and brushing his teeth...comforting sounds that makes me know he's still there. And then I heard another comforting sound: water running, dishes clanging. He was doing his dishes! Although I don't expect him to do his breakfast dishes, I was proud that he was thoughtful enough to do them. *sigh*

Then, another sound. You guessed it. Broken glass! The first thoughts, unsanctified as they may have been, that were running through my head were: "WHAT? I can't replace those glasses! I can't believe he broke a glass! Grrr." Oh, was that my morning grumpy bear coming out to play? So sorry, I will send her back into her den.

Jim's little bear was out, too. Although his was a little more cute and cuddly, but still dangerous.

I walked out to the kitchen to find the remnants gone. No sign of broken glass. "What happened?" I asked groggily.

"I broke a glass." Jim answered with a disappointed sigh, and he proceeded to reenact the "broken glass story." My leftover hand-blown, hand-painted, got-it-at-Pier-One-on-Clearance- so-there-is-no-replacing it-glass was disposed of and gone.

"I'm sorry," I replied, remembering my hopes to use my words carefully, and I moped all the way back to my little den and cuddled up sadly in my blankets. Apparently, in all my thought about using my words carefully (which I only failed at a little), I forgot about the whole attitude thing that probably should go with it.

Jim Bear enters, stage left, sees the utter disappointment on my face, plops down on the bed and growls, "It was an accident..." accompanied by a little rolling of the eyes. Could I justify this as an apology. Not in this state. I crumble. We both begin the process of introspection and discussion, as if on cue. Man, we're gettin' good at this whole relationship thing.



In the end, we concluded with the idea that we need to love people more than things. We need to love eachother more than things. We need to view our marriage as though it was as fragile as glass. We need to cherish one another even in the little things of life.


All this to say: I haven't seen the movie Fireproof yet, and I'm not sure I want to. I'm a little hesitant because of all the hype and raaave reviews. I know, I know. You say that I should see it, and you're probably right. It took me MONTHS before I saw Facing the Giants and I ended up giving it two thumbs up. But, all of this talk about love and seeing our marriage in the right perspective and held up before God with such care, I got to thinking that maybe we should see the flick. I'm partially avoiding it because I know it will probably make me cry...and I don't like to go into something KNOWING I'm going to lose it and get all sentimental. I feel more like a comedy will do me some good...isn't laughter the best medicine? But, I'm halfway tempted to sneak out, rent it and surprise Jim with a sweet dinner and movie night with ice cream for dessert because I know that will make his day (the ice cream for sure anyway).