Good, Better, Best.

As I've mentioned, my theme for this year is "Good, Better, Best" based on THIS speech by Dallin H. Oaks. (It's a really good read.) Every day, I'm trying to weigh my choices, and take that split second to make a better or best choice. In my first few days, I've been amazed at how MANY chances I have to choose. This morning provides a perfect example.

The Spouse woke me up at the unholy hour of 6:30 so that I could get Thing 1 out the door to school on time. (I smile as I say that because he woke me up just as he was leaving for work, so I have NO room to complain, really.) I got my daughter up, dressed, fed, and ready to go. As I shut the door after putting her in carpool, I turned and faced my silent, dim house. The other two kids were, miraculously, still asleep. I shuffled towards my room thinking about how I might sneak in another 10 or 20 minutes of sleep, which sounded blissful. It's cold here in North Carolina right now, and our house is drafty, so I couldn't think of anything better than snuggling down in my warm covers.

Then I heard the little Jiminy Cricket in my head whispering "Is there something better you could do before the kids wake up?"

To which my instant reaction was "What could be better than sleep???" But my answer was already there:I could work out. If the kids slept 20 more minutes, I would have my weight lifting in for the day. I wouldn't have to try and do that while keeping kids happy. And that would be a better way to spend 20 minutes than sleeping.

Cue big sigh.

Then Jiminy Cricket piped up again "Come on, isn't there anything better than working out?"

At which point, Jiminy Cricket was becoming annoying. Because wasn't working out and giving up sleep ENOUGH already?? But there it was. If the kids slept 20 more minutes, I could have my Bible reading done for the day.

Trudging back to the bookshelf, I reached up and took down my Bible.

Choosing "Better" and "Best" isn't easy. Although it's easier if you think of things in those terms. Also interesting that, once I was done with my reading, I automatically went and did my workout while the two younger kids ate breakfast. Like that decision was already made. So I'm learning that, for me, being "good" is fairly easy. Coasting along and doing the basics is something I've gotten pretty good at. But taking it up even one, let alone two more notches? That's tough.

Especially when one of your choices is sleep.

The Middle...

It is 2:13 in the morning. Christmas day. And I can't sleep. I don't even want to. What does that say about me?

Since I can't sleep, I've been laying in bed, thinking about things.

It started because my lips hurt. They are cracked and chapped. They are cracked and chapped because I've been kissing my Spouse. A lot. Which I should explain about.

Every year, we try to give each other a homemade gift. One year, I made the Spouse a scrapbook of his semester in Jerusalem. Or at least part of it. Last year, he made me a sparkly red book of coupons for chores around the house. Which he completely came through on--even mopping the floor at the end of a long day. Three times.

This year, I decided to give him a different kind of homemade gift. It was called "Let's fall in love all over again." Which sounds funny to me, because I consider myself pretty smack in love anyway. But I thought about how fun it would be, if we could spend some time being giddy over each other. Although I had no idea how to approach it.

So I started off the month by just trying to be the Nice Wife and not the Ornery Wife. I tried to make dinner every night. I tried to not throw the kids at him when he walked in the door and beg for the keys to the car that has a working radio. Sometimes I did great. Sometimes I failed, and Ornery Wife came out of hiding. But I was trying. And the amazing thing was that I found myself thinking about the Spouse more often. Wanting to call him. It seemed like even mundane things, like folding the laundry--a chore I detest--could be a happy thing, if I sat there and thought of all the things I loved about him, while I folded.

So, on impulse I started the 15 days of Christmas. Each day, I tried to think of something to do. Some way to serve him. Something, anything, to delight him.

Somewhere in all of these 15 days, I realized that my gift was working wonders for me... but I wondered if it was working for him??? Was he falling any more in love with me? Was I doing the right things? Then I decided that it couldn't matter. Because I couldn't control that. But I was getting butterflies when he called. So I'll take it.

On the 5th day of Christmas I painted the bathroom. Again. Because I finally (finally!) found the right color. It was right in front of my face all along. But I digress... I was painting and the gift was "For the 5th Day of Christmas, your true love gives to you--5 colors of paint!" So I primed the cupboards, and thought of his hands. I taped the baseboards, and I thought of his laugh. I just couldn't stop thinking of how amazing and fantastic and HOT my true love is.

So when he came home, there was kissing that needed to be done.

It's been 10 days since then. And my lips are quite happily chapped.

It has been a phenomenal Christmas gift to give myself. I think now I will do the 7 Days of New Year... what do you think?