On Monday I ran by the grocery store to buy fresh shrimp and okra for a new recipe I recently discovered. I was excited to make this dish because 1) The picture looked fantastic 2) I was craving something light & summery on such a hot, sunshine-y day, and 3) Josh has been begging me to make him something with okra in it for months. So I was in a great mood when I unpacked the groceries and started preparing this tasty little treat. Josh always hangs out in the kitchen when I’m cooking, which is nice because he hands me things while catching me up on his day and always pours me a glass of wine before I even ask. I cherish this time together.
Except when I mess up a meal. Which is exactly what I did Monday evening. I’m not sure how I did it, but it looked gross. It looked so gross that I got nauseous and lost my appetite. In addition to my queasiness, I also felt very, very frustrated at my mistake. As I stood there, green-faced, over my bowl of slop, Josh stuck his handsome little face over my shoulder and said “Yeah, you definitely messed that up.” And with that, our kitchen shrunk by about half and I was about to explode and I needed him OUT right away. I pushed him and yelled at him and told him to leave. And when he wouldn’t I left him standing there with that awful mess and went to the bathroom and cried. When I came back out he had cleaned everything up and was reaching in the freezer for chicken breasts. This is the thing about Josh, he not only ignores my little tantrums, but he also forgives me at the blink of an eye. Honestly. He just lets it go. He doesn’t act distant or give me a hard time or accuse me of being crazy. He just welcomes me back with a kiss, hands me my glass of wine, and picks up right where we left off.
So loving. So gracious. I have much to learn from that man.
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