I planned to write a blog commemorating our 35th anniversary last week, about how much we’ve learned about giving grace and showing mercy.

We’ve been together long enough to finish each other’s sentences. Goodness, most of the time we can even read each other’s minds.

But there is one aspect of our makeup that is miles apart from the other: Bob doesn’t think I take life seriously enough and I think he takes it too seriously. 

I’ll admit that I’m not always on the ball, that I skip nonchalantly through life a lot like Mr Magoo--barely escaping one disaster after another. I'm laid back about pretty much everything— my personal safety, germs (I’m an avid fan of the 5 second rule), finances, aches, pains, sicknesses, whatever is— I always think it’ll all work out. Turns out, sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t.

Bob thinks my happy-go-lucky attitude is taking years off of his life. I think if anything is taking years off of his life, it’s his predisposition to jump to the worst possible scenario.

“No, Bob, I do not think your headache means you have a brain tumor, and that you have only days to live.”

But, to be fair, it’s not just Bob—Caitlin and Dane think I live my life with my head in the clouds half the time, too. 

Case in point, my visit to DC right before Christmas.

Our little Brooks was in the hospital receiving breathing treatments every two hours. It was pitiful. As soon as Brooks saw the medical staff coming he’d wave his little hands, saying, “All done, all done.” Unfortunately, they weren’t “all done,” not even close.

In the meantime, I went with Caitlin to Maisie’s pediatrician’s appointment. We weren't parked in a legal spot, so I waited in the car ready to move at the first sight of a cop.

Caitlin came out from the appointment crying hysterically, “We have to take Maisie straight to the ER. The doctor thinks she may have whooping cough.”

My heart broke for Caitlin, I rubbed her back, “Everything is going to be alright, sweetheart.”

“But you always say everything is going to be alright!” 

Apparently these oft repeated words have lost any ability whatsoever to offer comfort.

What she didn’t know was that I was having difficulty swallowing down my own sobs. Watching my sweet Caitlin in such a state of terror and hearing the words “whooping cough” had constricted my throat and chest so much that I struggled to breathe normally. Can you imagine what it would have done to Caitlin if her lackadaisical mother, who always thinks everything is going to be alright, went to pieces?

I didn’t try to talk, I just sat there…Please God, please God, please God….

Though the following days were nothing short of nightmarish for Caitlin and Cam, eventually everything was alright. Praise God.

Fast forward to last night.

Because Brooks is absolutely fascinated with Brett, the last few days I’ve FaceTimed them just as Brett’s school bus arrives so Brooks can watch him get off the bus. Brooks finds this fairly interesting, but what he really likes is watching the garage door opening and closing. I show my hand pressing the button, and then pan to the door slowly opening.

“Press again!” he insists (over and over). 

I was telling Bob about how fascinated Brooks is with pressing the “magic" button that opens and closes the garage door. 

“I don’t think that’s a smart thing to teach him. He’s going to run off one day, find a garage and get stuck in it.”

What?? Some days it’s a real struggle to follow Bob’s doomsday train of thought.

Instead of scoffing at what I found patently ridiculous, I went the sermonizing route instead.

“You know what, babe?” I asked seriously. “God’s grace is way bigger than a killjoy.”

As soon as the words were out, I found them hilarious. 

Even though my words could have been more tactful, and the name calling wasn’t necessary, I do think it was a good sermon point.

Think of the marvels we enjoy because someone saw possibility instead of doom. Electricity, cars, airplanes, roller coasters, surf boards…the list is endless.

And the Bible is full of characters who witnessed marvels by shutting down those voices of doom. Really, really amazing things…a parted sea, a walk on the water, walls crumbling, the dead coming back to life... and on and on.

But anyway, here we are, 35 years of marriage later proving that Mr Magoo and Eeyore actually make a pretty darn good match. Who knew?