What the Engagement Books Never Tell You

Our words hung in the air, awkward and heavy. With anger and hurt on both sides, there was no easy fix.

Photo: Ed Yourdon, Creative Commons, cc license

"I have to go. Morgan needs to get to class."

The drive is quiet, somber; a respectful honor in the silence.

Beside a sunny library window, I text words of apology and await his. I journal and rant for several pages before asking God to soften me, to soften my husband, and to bring peace. Help me, God, to choose my words, to use them well, to seek appropriate times for deeper discussions, and to do them honoringly? Erase my anger and his.

We bought a new bed several years ago, my husband and I. Constructed with a layer of memory-foam on top, the bed is designed to conform to your body, offering optimum support. Two years later, we see now that the mattress tells a story of who sleeps where. Here is his side, here is mine, and in between a raised ridge where weight and time don't dwell there as long.

He pulls me near in these cool autumn nights, and in the still-dark mornings, into this middle ground on the bed. And I grin and nestle closer, feeling his chest strong against my back. We move in sleepy familiarity into the spoon-cuddle mode. He moves forward, pulling me next to him, and I wriggle backwards, dipping under his chin. While I pull my long hair high on the pillow, he slides the edge of the pillowcase across my neck, hiding any ticklish hairs, and we sigh. Our breathing slows, matches inhalation lengths, exhaling together.

And perhaps this is how a marriage lasts long? Pushing down any walls that creep between us, asking God's help to soften our hearts, and curling up in syncopated breathing.

A Dukes of Hazard Morning

 I wasn't expecting the Dukes of Hazard.

Photo: DatarkNZ, Creative Commons, cc license

On a misty, balmy Minnesota morning, we walked up and down a concrete forest of balsam and fraiser firs, inhaling the giddy pine fragrance.

"This one," Mark declared, pointing to a chubby fraisier fir in the second row of leaning trees.

Daniel and I peered closer to see if we agreed. Despite its branches still frozen high in the air, we could see a full-girthed beauty and shape to the Christmas tree he had chosen. We cheered and agreed. Mark ran into the hardware store to pay, while Daniel and I stomped around the lot, bounced dewdrops off the rows of trees, and sucked in fresh rain-wet air.

Slicing three inches off the bottom of the tree, the store clerk helped us tie the Christmas tree to the top of our small car. Suddenly, we noticed it. Due to unusual twine-wrapping skills this year, Daniel and I were locked inside the car, doors tied shut in twine. Mark was trapped outside the car.

I laughed. "You'll have to jump through the windows like the Dukes of Hazard," I said, flashing my eyebrows at him.

Without hesitating for a second, my handsome man broke into a husky first line of the song, and slid feet first into the car! I cried out with pleasant surprise, impressed and delighted at his quick wit.

"You should sing some more," I flared my eyes at him, smiling slow into his eyes. "I like your deep voice."

He grinned and put the car in gear, backing around the corner and pulling onto the road. I stopped him, leaning in for a kiss, and we joked the rest of the way home.

There's something about choosing the way we see our husbands, huh? On a weekday morning during a short break to decorate the Christmas tree before the eldest dashed off for finals week, and my daughter's high school geometry and biology coursework piled up, we get to choose. With dishes stacking high, laundry unfinished, and a workweek just minutes away, we always get to choose.

We choose how we see our men, how we respond to our kids, how we frame our days.

I wasn't expecting Dukes of Hazard, but I loved that glimpse of my man, and chose to see him that way all week. It wasn't about a television show or any actors from the eighties. It was the sudden glimpse of a quick-witted man, singing to me in a husky voice, and jumping feet-first into the car.

We get to choose what we remember and focus on.

What the Mirror Can't Tell You

The scissors snipped.

Photo: Astrid Westvang, Creative Commons, cc license

A chunk of hair slipped into the sink below, and instantly I knew. This was something best left for the ones who know: the pros who can feather and layer hair styles, not leaving a gaping column of hair, slashed off in error.

Have you ever just wanted a change? I wanted subtle face-framing layers. Studying hair styles for a few days, I found some ideas, and grabbed the scissors Tuesday night. Halfway through one side of my head, I knew, and a laughing dread slipped chuckles out of me while I stared into the mirror.

Mark walked in after I finished the second side. Seeing the seven inch-long locks of hair in the sink and my sheepish grin, he groaned and laughed with me. "What did you do?"

Shyly I flipped the hair in front, and we stared at the forlorn results in the mirror. Big brown eyes framed by two painfully-obvious haircut fails looked back, and we laughed. He hugged me, and I shook my head, giggling and pressing in deep.

There's a safety in a marriage love that is breath-taking and stalwart, that settles deep into our bones. This love, modeled first by our Creator God, seeks to love unconditionally, to see beauty in a soul that whispers, moves, breathes, and lives, unhindered by outer accouterments.

I showered the next morning and arranged a quick haircut appointment, but our beauty is never limited by hair styles or clothing or jean size, women. Your beauty flows out from you in the way your laughter dances in your eyes, the way you sneeze so uniquely, and the way you treat the people in your life. You are loved and delighted in by an Artist God. And the loved ones in our lives? They strive to love as well as this God Being, who models it first to us, and then watches it trickle down to the people around us.

Into a dark six-thirty morning, my six-year old crept quietly around the bed to whisper in my ear. "Hi, Mom, I'm awake."

"Hi, buddy. You can play in your room. Dad and I are going to sleep a bit more, okay?"

The door clicked shut behind him. Mark and I moved sleepily to the center of the bed, and snuggled into spoon mode. His right arm slid under my pillow. Pulling me close, he wrapped his left arm around me. We slid aside my long hair from tickling his face, and adjusted our pillows in automatic mode. There is a rhythm that sinks deeply into loved ones, where nestling in can come without thought or much wakefulness. I slid back, feeling his chest rise and fall in slow breaths against my back. My breathing soon matched his, the warmth of his body wrapping my frame, and we dozed.

There is a safety in a love that is breath-slowing, breath-forming, and stalwart. It settles in, deep into our bones, freeing beauty, freeing us to see love and give love, modeled first to us by our God.

For When You Wonder if You're Seen

Photo: Cedric Lange, Creative Commons cc license

Purple and orange cream sliced the horizon in layers as twilight sank into cold winter night. I scrawled a few lines in my journal during a work lull Monday night, before clocking out for the day. Twining the black scarf around me in layers and zipping my red jacket up high, I crunched through swirling snow.

A duo of pecking fights Sunday night had left us hollow and discouraged. My heart was tired from them. Sunday night's family supper had quickly soured, and the intended bonding time wasn't. We spent the evening in different corners of the house.

Monday morning we kissed stiffly and chose to hug, trying to start fresh but still fearful of communication minefields. In my journal late Monday afternoon, I wrestled and asked hard questions.

Because what we all really want in a relationship is to be seen and found interesting. We long to be sought after. And those needs? Your needs, my needs, our men's needs? They are valid and real. And the truth is, our loves have sought us out and found us interesting. There have been times of great connection and there will be again. But in the moment, the unresolved tensions or the lack of quality time together can bring out the lonely and the missing in a heart. 

I crunched through a layer of shattered snow, skidding slightly on the ice below, praying and resolving. Asking God to help me start fresh tonight, asking his help to speak kindly, to respectfully build up, to listen better, and to see my man's heart behind his choices or words, I sucked in cold air and shoved my hands deeper into silky pockets. Rush-hour cars crackled by, and the sky turned pink and violet. Almost unconsciously, I straightened my torso, threw my shoulders back, and took deep full breaths through my nose. A hope-filled peace settled in.

Several blocks later, I stepped over a pine threshold onto a red swirled rug and walked upstairs. My husband smiled and came over. We kissed, lingering.

"Let's go out tonight," he suggested, holding me close. "Let's go right now."

We hugged longer, smiling, before I raced off to gather a few supper items for the kids. Fifteen minutes later we drove on a dark Monday night, eager for this chance to re-connect, to truly see each other, and to be seen. We talked for hours, holding hands across a booth counter still oily from drippy hamburgers, laughing and seeking each other out. Happy peace settled in.

May I encourage you today that our God sees your heart? He knows that occasional lonely and missing ache, and he longs to fill it in tangible, good-for-you ways. The God, whose very nature breathes in rhythm from within a three-in-one trinity relationship, knows you and loves you. He is at work in me and in you, bringing hope and intimacy.

How to Never Have to Prove Yourself Again

Photo: Leigh Righton, Creative Commons, cc license

I'm sipping French pressed coffee and munching on red licorice, a breakfast of champions. In my ear a computer customer service agent talks me through steps to establish my identity for an annual renewal program. It's convoluted and frightening, the blue screens circling endlessly, dead-ending on the same screen each time.

And what is it about proving our identities that lands us in this same cycle? I see it in marriages, in sibling-parent relationships, and in boyfriend-girlfriend cycles. Too often we fall into loops of behavior or relating to each other that dead ends, bringing us back to the same blue ending. 

And I see it often, how we use words and facial expressions to send messages, but how frequently they are decoded wrongly and misunderstood. It can cause laughter, or raised eyebrows, raised voices, hurt, and frustration. Do you see it too?

I see it in my home sometimes also, sadly, and we're working on that. My man and I are carving our way through this new season. Choosing daily to try gentle tones, respectful voices, and affirming yet assertive communication, it is harder than it would seem, and we crash miserably in some conversations.

Sunday, while splashing dishes in the sink and planning our day, words sliced and cut in ignorance. We stood, recoiling, wondering how to retrace, recapture, restore. Water slid from the faucet and all was quiet. Fiery minds struggled for words, God's spirit whispered balm to both of us, and we raced through memory rooms for any psychological tools we could find.

A timed departure halted further forays, and we retreated, replaying sentences in our minds, striving to say them better, flushed faces still hot.

The temptation in that moment was to turn inward, replaying the hurt, and rekindling the fire. My battle (perhaps yours too, friend?) is to stop, remember who I really am, and to respond. Because my identity doesn't need to be fought for, proven, or carved out. It has been established, created, and sculpted by a Master Artist. I simply need to remember it, and live clothed in it.

Several hour later, my man and I sidled close in the kitchen, toes touching across the linoleum. Strapping on psychology tools and the Creator's guidance, we spoke again, expressing ourselves, re-stating some things, extending apologies and gentle grace.

And the cycle stopped, the blue screen disappeared, and life was well again, at least in real life.

(My computer problems still exist. Aiye! Pray?) 

The Lie that Will Ruin Your Sex Life

Photo: Pedro Ribeiro Simoes, Creative Commons, cc license

You've crept up to me quiet and said it in hushed voices. In conference hallways, outside workshop doors, or pulling me aside at retreats and MOPS groups, you've swiped hair back from your face, and bravely opened up.

"I know the stereotype is that men want sex more than women, but it's the opposite with us. He's not interested in sex any more. I'm the one always asking."  

or

"We haven't had sex in months, and I know it's important to guys, but I'm never in the mood. What should we do?"

And women --you with your eyes down, your face flushed, and your voice quiet and worried --I've loved your honesty, and you are not alone. I am so proud of you for voicing what is a concern to lots of people. In your courage, you stood up and broke the power of the lie.

And the lie that will ruin your sex life is this: "Nothing will change. It's no use talking about it."

Because the truth is far from this. Experts in the field assure married couples everywhere that sex can just keep getting better and better. Redbook magazine shocked themselves several years ago after compiling content from surveyed couples and individuals. Working from a non-biblical worldview, they gathered information from a variety of people's sex lives, and what they found surprised them. Married monogamous couples rated the highest in mutually-satisfying sex lives, with the most active sex lives, including the most frequent orgasms, and the highest-reported satisfaction in males and females.

And this shouldn't surprise us since sex was God's idea. He created it and us, and called it good. He sculpted male and female bodies beautifully, and purposely entwined nerve bundles and sensory organs that would trigger pleasure. Our Creator even made sure to devote multiple parts in the Bible to talk openly about the issues surrounding sex, giving guidelines for its best use, desiring for it to be a gift, not a weapon or tool to cause damage. We have a God who talks bluntly and unblushingly about sexual intimacy.

Dr. Willard Harley, author of His Needs, Her Needs: Building an Affair-proof Marriage, states: "Since men and women differ so greatly in the way they come to enjoy sex, no wonder we find so much sexual incompatibility in marriage. The key of communication unlocks the doors of ignorance and opens up to each couple the opportunity for sexual compatibility" (Harley, 52).

Because in truth, "...any marriage can have that sizzle!" affirms Harley, from the vantage point of years of counseling couples. His book then delves into some of the complexities of sexual intimacy that can be resolved with communication.

For example, "Men experience sexual arousal and climax with relative ease. Precisely the opposite is true for the majority of women," states Harley. "...My counseling experience has shown me that even sexually active women usually enter marriage having rarely experienced arousal or climax..."

"Husbands often enter marriage assuming their wives have far more sexual sophistication than they have. Because they don't want to appear naive or lacking in sexual prowess, some wives don't level with their husbands. Instead they act as though they truly experience sexual arousal or climax, when in fact they do not.... Many otherwise compatible couples fail to find sexual fulfilment due to their own ignorance or deception."

"As the bottom line, many husbands do without sex or exist on a very limited diet (in their opinion). The husband blames the wife, of course, but the real culprit is sexual incompatibility, which needs to be overcome through the efforts of both partners, not just the woman" (Harley, 52).

Dr. Ed Wheat, author of a great sex and marriage book entitled, Love Life for Every Married Couple: How to Fall in Love and Stay in Love spends several chapters pinpointing and solving various complexities in couples' sex lives. Addressing issues of past sexual abuse, flagging libido or desire, effective foreplay, the role that emotional issues play in a couple's physical life, and more, Wheat outlines the biological, psychological and physiological circuits of our desire, arousal, and climax stages. At each stage, he illuminates possible weak areas that would hinder the process, and then offers solutions for each break in the circuit. Wheat's book even raises awareness of which medicines may accidentally be affecting one's libido, and how to change that.

Feeling uncomfortable with all this talk of sex? You are not alone. Lots of people clam up at the topic of sex. But the truth is, "Any marriage can have that sizzle!" And my desire for you is a passionate married sex life, with confidence and sensitivity to each other.

Thoughts? Have any marriage or sex books that you've appreciated?

(Did you see the earlier post: What Sex Unlocks in Marriage? Found this helpful? Please feel free to forward any of these posts onto friends or family, or to share them on facebook.)

What Sex Unlocks in Marriage

Photo Credit: Maria Rosaria Sannino, Creative Commons, cc

It's a little bit like showing up to school with no pants on.

You've had that dream too, I'm sure. On a rushed morning getting ready for school, you dash out the door with your backpack and bag lunch. Not until you step out past the long line of orange school buses do you feel the wind on your thighs and realize that you've forgotten to put on your pants. Heart-thumping wildly, we all dash ourselves awake at this moment, our pulses racing as we sit up in a dark room.

I am honored to speak at an upcoming event this week, and love that they chose the "Ovens vs. Microwaves: Issues of Sexuality in Marriage" session of mine. It is one of my favorite workshops. Talking candidly about sex is a bit like showing up to school with no pants on. Yet it's a topic that we Christians need to talk about more often.

Whenever we fall into the notion that "good girls don't talk about sex or sexuality" we have forgotten how bluntly and unblushingly our God talks about sex. Sex was God's idea. He invented it, and us, intentionally sculpting in bundles of nerves throughout our bodies. Nerves that are not needed for the purposes of procreation, but are essential for pleasure.

In Hebrews 13:4, God declares, "Marriage is honorable in all, and the bed undefiled." The Greek word for bed here is koite, which in Latin is coitio meaning sex. Thus God says in Hebrews here that "Marriage is honorable in all, and the sex undefiled."

In the Biblical book of Song of Solomon, a play with two main characters, a Beloved and her Lover describe in tantalizing detail their desire for each other. On their wedding night at the consummation, a third voice enters the fray, saying quietly, smilingly, "Eat, o friends and drink; drink your fill, o lovers." Bible scholars wonder if this is their Creator telling them to enjoy what he has invented for them.

Gary Thomas, in his article entitled "The Power of a Pure Passion," explores some wild discoveries about sex and marriage, after new research on the chemical interactions of our brain, including the chemical oxytocin: 

The past decade has led to an explosion of understanding about the chemical interactions of our brains, and many insights about love and marriage have become more readily apparent. For starters, that wonderfully transcendent, carry-me-away feeling of infatuation will not last more than about 24 to 33 months. This sudden affection is intense, but it’s a “sprinter,” not a marathoner; it has no endurance, and will begin to fade about the time that most couples come home from their honeymoon.

As the inventor of our brains, our Creator knows this, so He also designed a follow-up act that literally renews a couple’s affection: sexual intimacy. Here’s how it works. At any given time, the female brain contains up to ten times more oxytocin than the male brain. Oxytocin is the bonding chemical that creates feelings of affection and empathy. You want to know why women tend to be more invested in close relationships than men? Oxytocin is one of the reasons.

There’s only one time in human experience when the husband’s level of oxytocin begins to approach that of his wife’s: immediately following an act of sexual intimacy. A man’s brain literally re-bonds with his spouse, making him, at that moment, more committed to his family, more satisfied with his wife, more invested in his home. Wives, why do your husbands want sex with you so often (whether they know this is the reason or not)? It’s because they never feel closer to you than immediately following that encounter.

Need some oxytocin? Does your man?

Take a moment to look across the room at him. Study his broad shoulders and that strong back. Close your eyes and remember his cologne, or sneak up to him and sniff his neck. Feel your lips on his skin. Think about some of the things you love about him emotionally and physically. Then disappear, and know that God is saying, "Have fun. I made this for you."

Hi friends. I love you stopping in. What do you think? What's an aspect of marriage that Christians don't talk enough about? 

(And linking with Ann to count gifts-- thankful for God's invention here today.) 

How to Heat Up Any Frosted Marriage

Photo Credit: Sami Ben Garbia, Creative Commons cc

Arctic chills coat the lower corner of the window with ice and send cold drafts into me. I shiver in my green long sleeves, wishing I had a sweater with me. Bob Marley sings through the coffee shop speakers, and a three-person business meeting continues at the table behind me. Hot coffee scalds my mouth futilely as I huddle my shoulders and tuck hands between my knees to warm up.

Arctic chills can slip into marriage relationships just as suddenly. Lingering resentments, feelings of loneliness or not being appreciated, and even just long hours at work can grow frost in any relationship. Men and women from all ages approach me after speaking engagements to share their hearts. If this is you, you are not alone. Any marriage can be thawed out with God's help and gentle intentionality. 

Knowing that chills can creep in from unkind comments, unresolved issues, and harsh unapologetic attitudes, our de-thaw remedies begin there.

My husband and I recently found ourselves needing to un-thaw momentarily too. Climbing into the car after work one day, I kissed him for the surprise pick up. Gentle silence fell, though, in the wake of something we needed to talk about. Intentionally choosing soft hearts, we tried to speak respectfully, to ask clarifying questions, and to offer humble reconciliation. Sometimes, it takes our feelings longer to catch up. We've learned that when we choose to invest in the relationship and to meet each other's needs despite our moods, joy dividends pay off.

That evening, we took turns caring for our family and each other. Mark cooked dinner while I helped Morgan with homework, and connected with Daniel in Uno. Behind us, Mark stirred red curry soups of ginger and lime. After supper, while Morgan and Daniel watched a show together, I worked quietly on some writing deadlines, trying to be done early. Daniel crawled up on my lap throughout that time too, missing me from my afternoon at work. I paused writing to snuggle and tickle my five year old.

After putting Daniel to bed, I revised and finished my writing project, still not quite satisfied with it, but settling for now. I looked at Mark and we left our computers to sit on the couch. Intentionally entwining our legs and chests, we watched a few British comedies together, the closeness and laughter melting and bonding us naturally.

We chose to bond, moving in for quiet kisses. Then, with a glance between us, I ran a quick bath, while he cleared away supper. We met in our room and locked the door. Later, happy, breathless and completely relaxed, we fell asleep.

The next morning, we hugged happy for the day, lingered in kisses before his work, and prayed together. Joy dividends, with God's help and our intentionality, had paid off. I would love to say that we remember this every time, but I'm just thankful for each time God teaches us this, and whispers patiently, "Choose this. Choose obedience to me in any relationship, Jen. It brings joy."

To All Of Us With Rings

Photo credit to K. Overson

There's something about watching wedding vows from shiny wooden benches in the sunlight. Grey storm clouds that hung ominously overhead all afternoon, suddenly slipped away, and family and friends straightened in the unexpected heat. The bride, with a cut-out lacy back repeated her "I do" vows in giddy joy, and I watched her fair skin pinken in the hot September sun. The groom in swirled dark hair stared steady at his bride, proud wonder and amazement seeping from him.

A violinist, guitarist and pianist joined several vocalists in the golden grass to our left, and music floated under blue skies. Bride and groom spoke promises to each other, and I leaned into my husband's side, tracing his gold ring on his tanned finger. He turned and glanced at me, smiling softly, brown hair streaked with slight silver now. We kissed gently, and turned back to watch the vows.

There's something about watching wedding vows from shiny wooden benches in the sunlight that raises in me joy, nostalgia, and gratitude, and yet an awareness this weekend of my own brokenness and flaws. The pastor spoke of sacrificial love that was willing to die for a spouse, and yet often our hardest sacrificial choices are the day-to-day smaller ones. I sat in sunlight, a light flashed onto my own discrepancies.

We huddled close that afternoon as twilight fell, the sunlight disappeared, and grey clouds rushed in. Over wedding toasts, bride and groom games, and guest laughter and conversations, the cold crept in. We dug out fleeces and blankets, sharing between friends, and draping ourselves in overly-large jackets to stay warm. Sipping caramel coffee creations and Indian spiced chai's, my man and I sat close, laughing with others, and exchanging glances through the night.

On the car ride home that night, we talked quietly, affirming love for each other, apologizing for our brokenness some days, and leaning in close. "God is bigger than all this, Jen," Mark said, picturing my struggles, his struggles, and everyone's struggles. "He is patient and good."

This morning, he melts chocolate chips into our home-made hot chocolates, and we hug and pray together before I head out the door. We text a few times, intentional and kind, building each other up, and speaking truth into our relationship.

God is bigger than any of our sins or bad habits or attitudes. He is patient with us, forgiving, and good. He is fighting for us, friend. And marriages are worth it.

Linking with Ann at A Holy Experience. 

Don't Let Fear of Looking Foolish Stop You

 Glassy highrise buildings slipped past, mirroring the sky. Parallel-parking beside joggers and bicyclists at Lake Harriet in Minneapolis, we piled out of the car, carrying roller blades, a folded stroller, and a brown paper bag of hot bagels.

 On our last days of vacation-- this segment of the "stay-cation"--we were all intentionally making family memories and savoring these last few days of normal. The last few weeks of having John here with us before he moved to college. The last few weeks of summer, and the last few days of relaxed family time. Strolling past the rose gardens, we joked and sniffed occasional buds, noticing how fast the weeds grew here too. Groundskeepers in tan shirts gouged out fast-growing weeds and scrambled to keep up with passing time.

 After the cherubim fountain and the spitting turtle fountain, my broad-shouldered college-bound John raced across the grass to climb a tree, charmed by its low-hanging branch. Mark handed five-year old Daniel up, entrusting him to John, and swung up after them.

"Wow, Dad! I didn't know you could climb trees!" my daughter cried.

"What? I'm not that old. I can climb trees," Mark asserted (several times that day).

 My daughter joined him, swinging up with a bit of help, and perching beside them.

"C'mon, Mom, let's all go up!"

 For all my talk of loving to climb trees, it had still been a long time since I had swung up into one this size. Jumping up, my hands only slipped off the smooth bark again.

"I'm too short. My hands can't get a grip." I laughed and complained. They urged me, good-naturedly teasing me and trying to spite me into success. Laughing, jumping, and falling, I stood barefoot in the grass looking up at them.

"My shirt will gap open! Sorry, it's not a good tree-climbing shirt." I worried.

"John, don't look for a sec," Mark advised. Handing Daniel to the kids, he jumped down, and hoisted me up. I scrambled ungracefully to his shoulders, scooted up from there, and grabbed on to the branch, shrieking and giggling. My oldest nearly fell off the tree in silent laughter.

Finally, we were all there, six feet off the ground, grabbing onto the weathered bark of the branch. Wrapping ankles together for balance, I reassured Daniel that we were fine, and Mark set up the camera for our family photo.

Happy August 12th to you, friend! Kids around the nation start school this week, others start in a few weeks, and my son moves onto his college campus soon.

Savor today. Savor your family and friends. Climb trees, look silly, laugh hard, and build family memories. What crazy or fun thing have you done this week? I love hearing from you.

Linking with Emily at Imperfect Prose. 

The Radical Choices After "I Do"

Photo credit to Josiah Mackenzie

It wasn't a proud moment.

Huddling under blankets, I squeezed my eyes against the closet light, and buried further into muffled quiet. He dressed, searched for matching socks, and I grumbled at the interruptions to my nap.

Soon, my man turned off the light and left the room. Grabbing my last twenty minutes of sleep, I burrowed deep into sheets and pillow. Kitchen noises, microwave door slams, and cabinet clatters grated on me. Then there was silence and a blissful few moments of sleep, before the alarm woke me.

Padding out to the kitchen I saw a note on the table next to a tall glass. "I love you. Here is some chai to wake you up. You may need to reheat it." White whipped topping swirled with grated nutmeg above creamy chai tea.

Embarrassment at my inner grumblings mixed with shame, and I apologized to God for my attitude. Grabbing my phone, I texted my husband just as his worship practice was starting, "You're a nice man! Thanks for the note and the chai."

"You are my love, my life, the best friend I know," he responded.

I was wooed, romanced, and thrilled. Dashing off a quick reply to him since he had to start drumming, I then turned to my chai and my Bible.

Choices. We all make them.

My husband chose to be kind to me, despite my sleepy grumbles. I was humbled, touched, and different for the rest of the day.

Choosing to look for good in each other, choosing to respond in gentle humility, choosing joy and life over selfish grumblings, choosing kingdom life...

We have been choosing to pray together every morning, my husband and I. While we had always known the benefits of that, this is a new consistency and new intentionality for us. Pausing life, ignoring the kids for a moment, and before one of us heads out the door, we hug, lean close, and step into the throne room. Foreheads or cheeks touching, we pray with soft voices for each other. Naming battles, praying blessings, choosing this radical other way of Kingdom life. A life that is so counter-intuitive some days --gentleness, other-focused, patient -- that it involves a conscious retraining of our mind and actions. 

And it is so good. We see Jesus in the softness, in the gentle, in the serving.

"You and Mark seem... different," said a friend yesterday who knows us well, nodding her head and smiling. I thanked her, talked of God, and shared my brokenness.

Linking with Ann at A Holy Experience and Emily at Imperfect Prose. 

Rekindling Romance a Moment at a Time

“Do you like amaretto?” he asks. 

Grocery bags flank his feet. “I wanted to get you something different. Plain coffee seemed boring and not like a gift.” He hands me a bag of whole coffee beans, knowing I like to grind them fresh for each brew.

We are learning new ways to speak love, my man and I.

 ---------------------------------------

“I can chop your ginger too,” I offer. Our eyes brim slightly from sliced yellow onions, and the fragrance of fresh garlic fills the kitchen deliciously. He cooks behind me, prepping ingredients for the Mediterranean couscous that makes us salivate already.

We are learning new ways to speak love, my man and I.

 ---------------------------------------

Entwined on the battered sectional, against a chocolate wall, we read together. I aloud, him following over my shoulder too, as we follow The Life of Pi and laugh at stories of Richard Parker and flashing rainbow dorado fish.

  ---------------------------------------

 Twenty years of knowing each other is never enough, and romance blooms further with intentionality. We pause more, linger longer, kiss more, text often, thankful for our years together.

We are learning new ways to speak love, my man and I. 

I love hearing from you. Tell me about the one you love. What are ways you two are intentional about romance?

Linking with Imperfect Prose.

He Spoke Huskily

Photo credit to Keith M

This morning, we woke to celebrate eighteen years together, eighteen years of saying I do. 

Babysitter teen children watched the youngest as my man and I strolled by rose gardens, tinkling fountains, and clanking sailboats in mirrored city skyline lakes. He unfolded paper thin. 

“I woke up thinking these words this morning,” he spoke huskily. “They flowed easily, and I teared up remembering.” 

20 years ago I met you, and thought you were interesting, Jennifer from St. Cloud.

20 years ago I spent hours talking with you, getting to know you more, learning who you were.

20 years ago I would wait to see you, hoping you would come to a common place where we would meet.

20 years ago I looked into your eyes and you into mine, playing a game, involving our hearts.

20 years ago we started dating, searching to know if this was the one, enjoying a started commitment.

20 years ago we kissed, our hearts started to meld, our future started to be realized.

18 years ago we kissed again, on a bridge, over a waterfall, ring on hand, joy in our smiles.

18 years ago our future seemed to change, we wondered what was next, we were together and God was good.

18 years ago our life moving so fast, we cried once on the floor, we held each other, God held us too.

17 years ago we had John, then Morgan, now Daniel, family together.

0 years ago I remembered what was, we kissed, our lives together, we wondered about the future, it was good.

18 years from now…..   I Love you.

My throat filled and eyes blurred as I leaned close, kissing him beside the fountain, ignoring the tourists nearby. 

It hasn't been an easy road to get here. We have worked hard, apologized often, and needed God's power for softened hearts and gentle grace. 

This week even, I argued with God in the shower. I argued with him in the kitchen, slicing knife through tomatoes oozing red. Washing pasta spirals and cutting sultry basil strips, I talked with God. In the silence, a Voice whispered, massaging my heart.

A turned off heart was not allowed.

 

I obeyed.

Choices shape our lives. They shape mine. 

Choose your promises. Choose gentleness and grace. Choose to turn and invest again, anew. I chose my marriage that morning, grimping toes on bare linoleum. 

Gritty grace conversations and leaning-into hugs followed, but it started in my heart first. I chose my husband. In humble tones, we talked this week, apologizing, choosing gentle grace, loving anew.

Thank you, God, for your patience with me; for perseverance, and your extravagant grace. 

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