I don't like beets. I like pickled beets (and the smell!) even less. And yet, today I canned 6 quarts of beets and 14 pints of pickled beets (well, 15, but one broke in the canner). Scrubbing, boiling, peeling, chopping (they were monster huge beets!). Why? Because my husband loves beets and enjoys pickled beets quite a bit. And I love him.
From the time we first got married, I promised to can some pickled beets (beet balls). He probably didn't even remember that promise, but I did. And I had every intention of getting that promise done and out of the way early on in our marriage. Then I got pregnant. The only thing that made me nauseous was the smell of beet balls. Seriously. Ironic when you consider how much Luke loves beets and beet balls! Second summer...pregnant again. Third summer...toddler and infant. Fourth summer...two toddlers. Fifth summer...preschooler and toddler. Sixth summer...well, I was out of excuses. And did I mention I love my husband?
He thanked me with a big smile...then helped me by husking three crates of sweet corn and helped cut it off the cobs once it was done boiling -- 18 quarts of sweet corn in the freezer. And I washed clothes during all this, too. Eight loads...and they're all folded, too! Played with the kids. Did school work with them. Reviewed their Cubbie lesson and made sure they know their verse (God is truthful....John 3:33). Three dishwasher loads of dishes loaded, washed, and put away.
I was going to do a start-from-scratch supper...we settled for hamburger helper (and Susanna had 3 helpings, licking her plate clean each time!). I was going to make some kind of apple dessert. We finished the pumpkin cookies left from last Saturday's party instead.
I'm tired. I'm going to bed. That hubby I love so much is there...snoring away peacefully. But I'm reminded how much I love him, so maybe tonight I won't keep jabbing him in the ribs to get him to be quiet.
It was a good day. Thanks, God!