And quite frankly it is no use crying under spilled milk either. Which is where I was a couple of Mondays ago. Crying under spilled milk. I sat crying under the ceiling of my kitchen that was freshly splattered with 2% milk. I wish I could blame the milk all over the ceiling, wall, cupboard, brick facade, floor, furniture…on my rambunctious boys. Or maybe a tantrum thrown by my adorable (and willful) 2-year-old. But, this milk, this tantrum was all mine. A 32-year old throwing a tantrum. Many out there that know me personally are probably looking quizzically at the computer screen…”Danielle, throwing a tantrum. She never gets mad.” Most people have never seen me mad. They couldn’t even picture me having a tantrum. But my husband can. Tell me. What is it about this person who is our God-given provision, our perfect match, the one we bind ourselves to for life that can drive us absolutely mad? What is it about marriage that makes two perfectly sound-minded, respectably behaving people act like tantrum-throwing toddlers to each other?
I honestly don’t remember what we were discussing over breakfast that morning. I don’t want to think too hard about it either. I’d rather not remember. I do remember my husband’s temper flaring. I saw a flash of his old self. It was met by a flash of my old self.
*note from Brittany: Wow, I am so thankful for her honesty about her marriage, and how she knows she can’t do this thing we call life…or marriage without the help of our Savior. Without Him we are lost, do YOU know of God’s love?*
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