Sticky Notes & Being Loved Well.

A wise woman in my life told me months ago that she thanks God that her husband fails her, because if he didn't, she wouldn't need God.

I love that--mostly because I love when Bradley is not failing, and am frequently disappointed when he ultimately does (duh, he isn't Jesus).  This leads to excessive criticism because my hope in that moment is in someone who will disappoint me.

I hope Bradley has been thanking God that I fail him lately...because I haven't been so great to him.  Yesterday, I had yet to start a paper that was due this afternoon and was preparing for my first final exam today.  Along with other frustrations that were out of my control, I was downright cranky.

Bradley and I walked to class together yesterday morning, and during that five-minute conversation I managed to vent my frustrations and turn them on him.  

Nooot the sweetest thing to do. 

I didn't even apologize immediately.  I did once I saw him that afternoon--but it stinks to be mean to someone who is being patient with you. 

I met up with him to apologize, and so we studied together afterward.  I was doing my laundry and when I realized my clothes weren't dry enough, and I didn't have time to wait because I had class at 1:30.  He offered/told me he would wait for them to finish and would take them to my room if someone was there to open the suite door.

Well, when I returned to my room, this was the sight:

He covered my room in sticky notes...

He folded my laundry...

He wrote me a poem and pointed me to biblical Truth...

Needless to say, I was crying after I read those items.

And I found more sticky notes today:

...and that's not even all of them.

So today, after I got out of my final exam and last class of the day, he called me and told me he wanted to meet up with me.  I was frustrated on the phone (though I had just finished a final, and felt great about it!)...because my class was dismissed 20 minutes late.

Is there a more lame reason to take frustration out on another person?


I'm even embarrassed to write down how quickly I forget Jesus, how quickly I forget that He is Lord, this life is not my own, and all good things come from Him and not me.

So we met at a swing outside, and Bradley gave me this:

In his precious, 6-year-old handwriting, he wrote (most of) the names that God gives Himself in Scripture.
Yesterday, when Bradley was super sweet to me, of course I was giddy and felt so loved by him...Thank You, Lord that he doesn't stand for that too long.

When Bradley handed me this, he said to me,
"You could not use any one of these words to describe me, yet even these words are not sufficient to capture all that God is."

Ummmm, so does Bradley point me to Jesus, or does he point me to Jesus?

After my selfishness and impatience reared its ugly head directly at him, Bradley obeyed the Spirit's leading to choose to offer me grace instead of reprimand.

I am easily frustrated and critical, and he definitely has his sin patterns and struggles (I love to focus on them, so even recording this is a good discipline for me), but I am so thankful for a man who loves Jesus more than me and who loves me like Jesus first loved me.  

As great as Bradley is, even on his best days--when he is aware of his sin and God's glory, and even when he is loving me well--he is in desperation for salvation.

Jesus' love for me is completely unmerited.  He first chose to love me and He most clearly showed me His love for me by stepping off of His throne, living, dying, and resurrecting on earth, and sending His Spirit to help me in my struggle to love Him back.

I am nothing; He is everything.
My words cannot contain Him and my life is hid with Him.

He delights in me because I am covered by Jesus' blood--and for no other reason.
THAT is being loved well.