Kelli and I love grocery shopping together. Maybe it's the fact we were both initially so nervous about being the sole shoppers for our new home, with no experienced mothers in the mix to keep things on the rails. Or maybe it's just that we're enjoying getting good at it. Or maybe it's getting to pick out our "one treat" each. Whatever it is, we love going together. We make it fun.
So it was a bummer yesterday when Kelli made a restock trip while I was working. We both expressed a little remorse that it'd worked out that way, but we had some old friends coming over that night, and we wouldn't have time to go after I got home. It really wasn't a big deal, just one of those "well, darn" kind of things. But that was the first time it really struck me that I really enjoy doing that with my wife. It's a little thing, but we treasure doing it together.
Over the weekend, Kelli and I watched a movie where one of the rules was to always "Enjoy the little things" (Even in a nightmarish, post-apocalyptic world where the "little things" include trashing an abandoned gift shop to release some pent up anxiety. Also, Twinkies.). And sure, it's a pretty basic idea, but in the context of this particular film, it was an ironic juxtaposition. You should always be enjoying the little things! It ought to be a rule.
I think it's important to stop every once and a while and completely remove yourself from the moment you're living, and just think about everything that led up to that particular moment. So many little, mundane things become meaningful.
We had a blast with our old friends last night. And it was great to think back on our history with all of these particular people. So much has happened over the years, and it was truly a blessing to have all of them together, goofing off and carrying on in one room, having a great time. It would have been easy to just think of it as another fun game night, but, for me, it was the accumulation of years of history together leading to one great evening. We didn't really talked about it last night, but Kelli touched on my sentiments when she pulled me aside in the kitchen and simply whispered, "I like this." Me too, Keener!
So it may be a simple thing, but it's really and honestly a form of worship, to sit across the table from your wife, laughing about something stupid, and then removing yourself just long enough to think about everything that went into creating this one moment. Your only response is to tip your hat to the Big Man and give him a heartfelt, "Thank You for this. It's wonderful."