My hubby gets me.
On Valentine’s Day, he surprised me with a funny greeting card and a heart-shaped box of miniature Kit Kats.
No jewelry. No shopping spree. No flowers.
And I loved him for it.
Why? Because it was the icing on the cake after countless moments he’s helped my dad up and down stairs. Covered kiddie activities all day on a Saturday so I could meet work deadlines. Washed a lot of laundry. And so much more.
He knows my primary Love Language, and he loves me by honoring it as much as he can. And I love him all the more for that. Continue reading
Before becoming a freelance editor, I worked in grant development for over 15 years at our school district. I was a nonprofit girl previously, a child advocate on an altruistic, fight-the-power perch. I’d never navigated a government bureaucracy from the inside. I honestly thought I’d do the new job for 2, maybe 3, years tops.
I actually told my manager that very thing. Wet behind the ears, I declared, “Mrs. Newman (I hadn’t started calling her Carol yet), I’ll probably be here only a couple of years. I’m a nonprofit girl. You know, working from the outside?”
And Carol – who quickly became my true friend and mentor – smiled and simply replied, “We’ll see, my dear. We’ll see.”
Almost 9 years later, I was still working with Carol.