Day 253: Putting Our Song to Use

Today I gave you a back massage in a candle-lit room with our song—“Out of My League”—playing on our laptop.

When I prepared our room for your massage, I told you I would be upstairs for a few minutes, but didn’t tell you why. I also didn’t tell you that I recently bought our song from Amazon. (We haven’t listened to it in several years because we lost the CD.) So you were really surprised when you came into our room, saw the candle, heard our song playing, and I told you that I would give you a massage.

Day 116: Reflections on Sacrifice

On Sunday, I spent a long day at church, then had to work for several more hours when I came home. I didn’t want to commit my act of love for the day because I was so tired. The only thing that compelled me to commit it was my desire to be consistent with 365.

So, between working at church and home, I trudged up the stairs, bleached the bathtub, and prepared a bath for you. You didn’t want a bubble bath, so I left out the bubbles, but I did light a fragrant candle and place it by the tub.

I planned on watching the baby while you took your bath, but the baby was asleep, so my job was easy–to let you take your bath in peace. You did. You also gave yourself a pedicure. Then you came downstairs refreshed and relaxed.

365’s forced me to make changes to my day, and even my lifestyle, in order to show you (however imperfectly) love and kindness. These sacrifices, though momentary and light, have prompted me to reflect on Christ’s sacrifice for me. The personal and tangible nature of my (small) sacrifices has made me realize how personal and tangible his sacrifice was. Christ, a real person, gave up his position in heaven to suffer and die in space and time on my behalf. He felt the pain of whips, the weight of the cross, and the sting of nails; the pain of wrath, the weight of sin, and the sting of betrayal. Compared to his sacrifice, (understatement alert!) mine is negligible. But the point is, Christ’s love for me has become more real as I’ve felt some of the pain (and joy: more on that later) of serving you.

What’s more, my deeper understanding of Christ’s sacrifice for me has resulted in my greater desire to sacrifice for you. I suspect this cycle will continue—as I serve you more, I’ll understand better how Christ served me (my Lord served me? How unthinkable!), which understanding will compel me to serve you more.

Day 91: Romantic Dinner #2

For my 91st act of love, I treated you to a romantic dinner in our home. I planned on making the dinner myself, but work got in the way so we shared the responsibility. We made crockpot pork loin, potatoes, and vegetables.

Last time we had a romantic dinner, our kids ate with us. This time, I did what I could to make sure it was just the two of us (there’s only so much you can control with a baby in the house). At 8, we put the kids to bed and (wonder of wonders!) the baby fell asleep too. I then set the table up with your flowers for the week (which I’ve been consistently buying, but not blogging about), a candle, and our dinner. I also set the computer to play the 10 songs I bought you from your iTunes wish list (at that point, you didn’t know I bought them).

We started eating dinner and the music started playing. “Do you recognize this song?” I asked. “Yeah, I know this song.” We continued eating. When the next song came on I asked, “How about this one?” “Yeah, this song’s good.” By the third song, you began to wonder why I was asking: “Did you buy some songs from my wish list or something?” “Yes, I did!” “You went through all that trouble for little ol’ me?!” you replied in a slightly Southern accent. (I had to retrieve the wish list from an external hard drive, so it wasn’t simply a click of the button.) “Yeah, I did it because I like ya.” You started tearing up and thanked me. Who knew you’d like that act so much?

After dinner, I brought out a piece of cheescake for us to share. I started to feed you the dessert myself, being mockingly romantic. But I pushed the fork too far in your mouth and made you gag. After laughing that one off, I let you feed yourself. When we finished our dessert, we enjoyed each other’s company on the couch for a few minutes. Then, our baby woke up. So the three of us enjoyed each other’s company.

Later in the evening, our four-year-old daughter called me up to her room. She asked, “So, did I hear something about a romantic dinner?” “Yes.” Then she asked in an accusatory tone, “Are you going to a restaurant without me?!” “Ha ha! No, we already ate our romantic dinner . . . What’s a romantic dinner, sweetie?” “I don’t know,” she said as she shrugged her shoulders and laid back down to go to sleep.

With a great ambience, 3 sleeping kids, and a nice dinner and dessert, I’d say romantic dinner #2 was a success.

Day 21: Romantic Dinner

I kept my word and did something romantic for you yesterday. When I came home from work, I told you to just hang out while I prepared dinner. As it turned out, you almost had it finished. So I simply took over while you went on Facebook. I cleaned the dining area (which took some effort–our kids used it for their play area that day), set up the table for a candle-lit dinner, and put on some nice music. We ate roast, which you prepared wonderfully, and had a very romantic time . . . with our precious little ones dropping roast on the carpet, refusing to eat, and messing with the candle! Would you have it any other way?