This morning I woke up in a terrible mood. I came out of the bedroom glaring at the world because, well, mornings and I aren’t close. However things in the house were alive with activity. Denai was running in circles screaming happily. Michael was somewhere getting ready for school – no tantrums yet as far as I could tell. Marie was cleaning the chaos from yesterday’s gift opening extravaganza and being loud in her own way. Mr. Sexy was doing dishes in between running around keeping everything running on course.
He didn’t notice me on the couch for about ten minutes. But when he did, he came over to tenderly touch my face and ask if I wanted coffee. I was still glaring – but he knows me. He left me alone with Words with Friends and went about his incredibly busy and productive morning.
My little brother has just gotten engaged and it’s causing me to ask myself what kind of marital picture Mr. Sexy and I portray.
Thanksgiving Dinner 2014 hosted by the Sexy Family
We are all seated around the table, plates filled with hot food.
“Would anybody like to say the prayer?” Mr. Sexy asks. My mouth is opening after his first two words.
“No! You’re saying the prayer!” I am indignant. Almost hostile.
Mr. Sexy laughs lightly and agrees to pray over our meal.
The picture portrayed: He does what I say and what I want.
The actuality: I feel horrified about what I said and how I said it. I can feel the girl I was trying to take over the woman I am.
I have a husband who enjoys doing things for me. I struggle with accepting this. It’s not something I’m familiar with. I suppose I could take advantage of this. In fact, I have. It didn’t go over very well, though. When I experimented with taking him for granted or being rude and demanding, our marriage struggled. What I learned is that my man is no push over. He fights for me and he fights for our kids in ways I don’t always comprehend. The choices he makes to love me through the worst of days is still new to me. I’m still surprised when I find dishes done in the morning or when he comes home and the first thing he does after kissing me is to roll up his sleeves and do some more dishes. Or cook dinner. Or go hunting in the garage for something I need. Or fixing the tub leak. Or…
I don’t know exactly what our marital picture looks like. But I don’t think it’s my job to worry about that. It’s my job to make sure I’m following God’s Word in being his wife. If that’s our focus even in all our imperfections, then the picture can’t be all that bad.
Linking up and talking about: My Husband
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