When Broken Bones Heal

This past Christmas, as a family, we did the 12 days of Christmas to 2 families. The idea is you bring a gift with a little poem, put it on the door step, knock and run away. On the second (or third?) night I sent Shawn to do it because I found it quite nerve racking. I obviously wasn't thinking. Shawn is quite accident prone. As he jumped back into the van to rush away he sat doubled over.

"What are you doing?" I am very paranoid and thought if we didn't speed away they would catch us.

"Didn't you see me fall?"

uhh nope.

So we switched places and I drove.

Not too far down the road he gives a nervous laugh and says "uhm I think I broke my arm...."

... seriously. what was I thinking. I sent my accident prone husband out in December, in the dark, to run away from someone...
Of course he broke his arm. Not only did he break it, they couldn't cast it because it was broken by the elbow (radial head for those who care). The great thing about this story, not only did he break his arm doing something nice for someone. He tripped over what we had thought was the wire of an election sign. Nope. It was the wire frame of a "Save Our Paramedics" sign. Oh yes.

Anyways... I wasn't all that impressed with these events. This meant I had to drive everywhere, pick up/carry/change every diaper with our kids, and get everything ready for Christmas with more or less no help. And our kids are spoiled to begin with when it comes to being carried and held. Oh, AND we were potty training, but that stopped with the whole event. Generally at that point in life I wasn't impressed with much. I was sure my husband could do more around the house. I guess I was expecting him to do as much as I did in the house and work full time. I dunno. But right before he broke his arm we had an incredible talk one night. We discussed how I beat myself up for not measuring up to my own standards as a wife and mother, how I assign my issues with my parents (I'm sure I'll get there one day) to my husband, and the biggest thing was we talked about our past relationships. We had NEVER, after 5 years of marriage discussed our past relationships. Needless to say, all of a sudden we could breathe again.

In hindsight, these conversations we had we in God's perfect timing (go figure). Had they not taken place I probably would have murdered my husband with his broken arm who couldn't help around the house. But through the 6 weeks of doing almost everything around the house while my husbands arm healed, I slowly learned. I slowly let God teach me. I went from beating myself up and feeling so guilty that I wouldn't get done what I felt I should, to being able to clean my house, do 5 loads of laundry, make bread, 3 meals, and entertain 2 kids in a day. And not only accomplish it, but have joy in doing it. I love to do all these things, of course I have my days, but I love doing them to serve my family, and to serve my husband. When my husband does things around the house (which has always been a daily thing, and quite a bit) I now truly appreciate it instead of thinking of other things he could also do. I know it sounds corny and maybe weird too, but in those 6 weeks, when my husbands arm was healing, our home was healed also. It has more joy now, and is a much nicer place for us all to be. It feels like a loving warm home, and that's all I've ever wanted for my family.