Working with singles groups as long as I have, I have been privy to some of the advice well-intentioned married folk dole out from time to time. One such bit of advice went along the lines of whatever you find charming while you are dating are the things that will irritate the crap out of you when you’re married.

[If you’ll allow the digression, another bit of advice came while watching the first season of The West Wing on DVD, when the First Lady informed a staffer to “Never fall for the geniuses. They never sleep.” Not that in this sole instance of humility I’d call myself a genius, but the hour at which I am flogging my notepad would be clear evidence of at least my insomnia.]

Back to my point, I’d like to reverse engineer that bit of advice and list the things that I’m thankful for by measure of how much they are irritating the crap out of me right now:

1) My Muse. If been criticized for thinking too much (sentiments you may/probably will soon share when I start posting my thoughts on ontological blackness as well as postcolonial theology). I can’t help it. Still, here I am up late again (allow me to assure you that whatever time this is posted, I am still up, not waking up), tortured by story ideas, blog posts, and issues maybe 6 other people on the planet may care about. Yet I wouldn’t have it any other way.

2) My Kids. They have taken to the habit of getting up in the middle of the night and sleeping at the foot of our bed like the dogs we never wanted. This wouldn’t be so bad, however, people with the last name Broaddus tend to love an entrance. A certain demand for notice that says “I am here, pay attention to me, and love me for the privilege.” Their entrance seems almost premeditated to coincide with the exact moment that I have gotten my brain to turn off for the evening. Thus bringing me back to full wakefulness. Kids, mind you, who stay up far too late and have way too much energy, and who long gave up on the idea of a nap, choosing instead to wring out every ounce of interest from life as possible. Yet I wouldn’t have it any other way.

3) My Friends. Yeah, I said it. Friends, heck, family in general. You can’t choose your family, so people say, but I have as much choice with friends as I do family. So I could lump you all together as friends or as family either way, they are people God brought into my life. A collection of oddballs, misfits, and broken people, trying their best to muddle their way through life and, for some reason, choosing to drag me through it with them. Saddling me with the details of their lives, expecting me to help carry their burdens–even their self-created drama–as much as they do mine. All because we seek to love one another better.


Yet I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Happy Thanksgiving!

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