Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

The Unexpected Peace I Found in Pain

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I was a few months away from my thirtieth birthday when my life fell apart. I had a beautiful home, new vehicles shining in the double garage, and the financial stability to add to the rooms of my house pretty much anything my heart desired. Four bedrooms, but basically silent halls. I had a wonderful 9-5, good friends, and who can forget the double shelves of alphabetized DVDs. Life was good. Or as good as life got, anyway. Right?!

I can remember the heartache like no other. My throat was raw with it. The deep pain in my chest rose with bile and acid up my esophagus, and the tears just kept falling. They had not stopped since the night before, and glancing at my red-rimmed eyes in my new car’s mirror made me glad I had not reported to my job site that morning. They would have known immediately.

“What’s wrong with me?!” I wondered.

I drove along an unknown roadway. Despite having tossed and turned most of the night, and regardless of the six pack I had numbly swallowed to help usher in the sandman, I had managed to leave my happy (looking) home early to get to work on time. My promotion had brought along new training, and it seemed the best bit of luck that this particular day would be one spent commuting over an hour to work, alongside strangers who wouldn’t question my melancholy. This was back when I believed in things like luck or coincidence.

“Why am I so unlovable?!” I questioned the pristine interior of my vehicle.

I was almost thirty years old, and I felt like I should be thinking about starting a family. Not this. My mind traveled back to the prior week, how my primary care doctor had questioned my desire for children in light of the birth control prescription she was writing. I didn’t know when she asked why we hadn’t started a family yet. We both wanted children. But in the silence of the rubber meeting the roadway that morning, I knew. I finally understood.

“What did I do wrong?!” I cried.

I racked my brain in the dim, morning light. I tried to be a good wife. I didn’t nag. I kept fit and trim. I had even fixed that flat chest situation. Thank you, Mr. Surgeon. I was a good cook, a complimentary companion, and always quick to concede in an argument. So why did he not want me?

“I don’t want to be married anymore,” he had said the night before.

He had asked me to take a seat, then had spoken the words matter-of-fact, like turning off love and ending a marriage was as easy as changing the color pattern of the living room. Perhaps easier.

“Help me, God!” I cried into the silent car, as I replayed the night before my marriage ended.

God. I still believed in Him. I had never stopped, really. I just hadn’t spoken to Him in a while. In fact, the last time I remembered hearing His voice was before I had gotten married. As things began to heat up in our relationship, some six years prior, I remember the whisper of the Holy Spirit reminding me of something I had learned as a young woman at a discipleship training school overseas. The speaker had cautioned the room full of us young adults about the dangers of “missionary-dating.” You might be familiar with the Bible’s instruction about being unequally yoked, and this was the caution the Lord brought to my mind.

So, over a table full of empty beer bottles, in a smoky bar, I had asked my soon-to-be spouse if he believed in Jesus.

“Of course! I’m Catholic,” he answered with a laugh, and that had been the extent of my prayerful consideration of our relationship.

I don’t want to paint the object of my (then) affection and ex-husband in a bad light. I certainly was no saint, and the point of this story is me. I had ignored the voice of God, His guidance, His Spirit, and relationship with Him for over six years. Yet in the midst of my utter failure and pain, He was the One I cried out to for help.

“Help me, God,” I had cried, and calling for His assistance came as naturally as if I had been doing it all along.

And there, in my pain, He met me. There in my brokenness, He spoke to my heart. The words I heard from the Lord at that moment were like a lightening bolt, yet also, simultaneously, like the whisper of a trusted friend placing their hand on my sagging shoulder and speaking the advice I needed. It’s not important what He said to me in that moment, but I can tell you it rang as one of the truest things that has ever been spoken into my life. It was exactly what I needed in that moment, where I felt so unworthy and unloved, but also what I needed to pick myself up from the mess I was in, and move on from a broken situation I could not control or mend.

I arrived to the alternate job site carrying some things I did not expect to find. Hope for the future, and peace for my current situation. I had been feeling a hurt and pain I couldn’t make my way through, but as I put my car in park in an unfamiliar lot, I knew I could make it with God carrying me. Somehow, and for some reason, He had met me in the midst of my pain. I didn’t deserve an answer. In fact, I had given Him the silent treatment for years. Yet when I cried out in my hurt, my Father answered. I still don’t think I deserved that, but thankfully He is a good, good Father. Compassionate, kind, and unending in mercy.

Life has never been the same since I encountered God in the middle of a lonely highway over thirteen years ago. It didn’t immediately become a pathway of roses, but I do know it began to look up from there. He pulled me from my pit, and I have kept in constant communication with Him ever since. I mean, a God who answers a wayward child who is reaping what she sowed… that is a relationship I could never turn my back on again.

The Lord not only pulled me from my pit, but He filled me with a new song. He gave me a new life, a wonderful husband, beautiful children, a path with purpose, forgiveness, redemption, and all the blessings that are promised in His Word. I haven’t written about my divorce in a long time, but this story has been on my mind lately. Although the circumstances are sad and broken, the healing and restoration is something I never want to forget. I’m so grateful we can serve a God of redemption, who writes us a new story, even when we’ve ripped the pages. He truly makes all things new. This story, while my personal account, is also the story of all mankind. We are all the broken pieces, who had searched for fulfillment in all the wrong places, yet aren’t left on our own. All we have to do is call for help, and He will hear. Even if we haven’t spoken in years. He hears, and He rescues the fallen.

#relationshipgoals

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The awesomeness of God is all-encompassing, and one of the billion things I love about serving the Great I Am is the ability to see my relationship with Him in multiple ways. I remember as a young woman, new to the faith, I found great comfort in the Father Heart aspect of God. As a product of past rejection from an earthly father, it gave me peace to have a Heavenly Dad who would never leave me. Since then I’ve learned to dive deeper into the multifaceted faces of the Lord, and I’ve found lasting relationship in my explorations. At times, He is my groom, the lover of my soul. Other times, a brother, a friend. I’ve even found peace with verses describing the Lord like a nursing mother, even though modern religion would raise us to see God as male only. The thing is, God is so much more. My Savior is everything. But this morning the Holy Spirit spoke a new description to my heart, and I found it so wonderful that I wanted to share.

This morning I was listening to worship music, meditating on the words and my relationship with the Lord, when I felt the Holy Spirit impress these words to my heart.

I’m courting you. It’s like a long distance relationship.

I’ll admit that made me chuckle at first. I mean, if ever there was a relationship I stunk at, it was a long distance one, but as I thought on it more, the comparison made perfect sense. After all, I couldn’t see Jesus, but I knew I loved Him. In fact, the love was so deep and powerful, it often times made me weep with joy. No one had ever made me feel that way.

My past experience with a long distance relationship as a woman in my early twenties had not gone well. He was a great guy, but the distance didn’t make my heart grow fonder; it only made it grow lonely. I mentioned that early rejection previously, and I’m sure that had a lot to do with my need for affection. I felt as if I needed almost constant reassurance and proof of love. I needed to hear the words, and I needed the physical touch. With a thousand miles separating me and this particular fella, it didn’t bode well. I found proximal affection in someone within my zip code, and because of my unfaithfulness, the distant relationship fell apart.

The thing is, something wild happened when I entered a relationship with Jesus. It wasn’t immediate, but more aptly developed over time. It seemed that the more time I spent with the Lord in prayer and reading His love letters to me in scripture, the less I needed that aforementioned affirmation. I knew Jesus loved me. I knew it deep down in my soul. I didn’t need a physical hand holding mine because His Holy Spirit was with me always, and in the lonely times when I couldn’t feel His presence, all I had to do was revisit those love letters in the Bible. They reminded me of His unending affections.

As a young woman I had problems with my self esteem, but once I began a relationship with Christ I knew my worth in Him. I knew in my heart that He adored me, that I was precious to Him, and that despite what I may mess up, He loved me unconditionally.

When you look at your life on earth from a kingdom perspective, knowing that this life is but a breath, and eternity in Heaven is the ultimate goal, you can wonder what your purpose is in this short spell on earth. This morning the Lord reminded me that a main purpose is to develop my relationship with Him. It’s like a long distance courtship, in that I cannot look into the face of my Savior just yet, but it’s a wonderful experience falling deeper in love with Him before the wedding. One day the church will stand before the bridegroom, but we won’t stand at the altar as strangers in some arranged marriage. We will be in the presence of the one we have grown to love deeply. I can remember standing at the altar with my husband. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him; I was so enamored and full of happiness! Can you imagine the joy we will feel on our eternal wedding day?!

In my life on earth I am courting for the greatest relationship of all times. As I make my way through a fallen world full of sin and hardship, I am drawn into the strong arms of Jesus. He comforts me in my trouble. In earthly wedding vows they say things about promising to stick it out through good times and bad times, but many marriages will end in divorce because the couple can’t make it through the bad times together. In our relationship with the Lord we are afforded the bad news first, so to speak. We learn to love Him through the brokenness of this world, and in that we begin to understand all that He can be for us. We spend an average of 72 years learning how to love deeply and unconditionally, through richer or poorer, through sickness and health, and then we are given the ultimate wedding gift and feast as our reward. An eternity with the One who never left our side through it all. In that sense, it’s the furthest thing from long distance there is.

As for now, although I cannot stand before Him, I love Him. Although I can’t see His face, I feel His heart for me. Even though we exist on different realms, so to speak, He never leaves me or forsakes me. My goal in (this) life is to love Him deeper, and to raise my children the same. To show the world the light of His love, and to prepare for the wedding that I know is one day coming.

Stepping Out in Faith Isn’t as Hard as I Always Thought

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This morning I was reading in the book of James again. There’s a lot packed into such a small book of the Bible, so it didn’t matter that I had just finished it last night. I started it over this morning, and then I jumped to Galatians. Funny how the Spirit leads, and I smiled as both chapters I had read from those particular books talked about the faith of Abraham.

Abraham. He’s the founding father of us all, that guy whose faith was counted as righteousness, and something we can all desire to be like. Although I am not sure I’d pass the test if God asked me to sacrifice my daughter on the altar. And I guess that’s what God talked to me about this morning. Faith, and how/why the stepping out in it part isn’t as bad as I had always imagined.

I bounced back and forth this morning between verses of the importance of faith in action, deeds that went along with the faith we proclaimed. Abraham had not known where God was going to have him end up, but when God said go, he did. It reminded me of our own experience in the fall of 2017.

God had spoken something very unusual to us. He had told us to go.

Go?! We had just bought our home, didn’t even have our last baby out of diapers. How was that supposed to work?!

But He had said it. The interesting part to me, in hindsight, is that we never doubted it. Y’all, I have doubts about my ability to always hear God correctly, but in this instance I knew without a doubt. My husband knew too, and that surprised me. For a man normally so contemplative when it came to God’s will, even he seemed solid as a rock. We just knew what we were supposed to do, and we did it.

There were naysayers. People we loved and respected questioned our decision. The world at large questioned our decision. I mean, why would anyone want to sell all the stuff they had worked twenty years to obtain? Why would you drag your children away from family and friends? Why would you trade a safe, comfortable job, retirement vested, for an uncertain, possibly unstable one? Why would you trade 2,200 square feet for 200?! It didn’t make sense to the world, I’m sure, but it made sense to us. Why was that?

I had always been a collector of things. I had things I had obtained from all around the world, and after my mother (a fellow collector) had passed away, I also held her things. I loved my things. Really, really loved them. Yet when I felt like God said to get rid of it all, it wasn’t an issue. I took a corner, gave myself 15 minutes, and I sorted into give, sell, or toss piles. I did it with my whole house. Everything. Gone.

My daughters loved their toys. Like, seriously loved their toys. Yet when I gave them one rubber-made tote and said, “fill it with what you want, the rest is going away,” they jumped at the chance. It didn’t make any sense to me, but they never complained. They never cried. In fact, they made a game of it. It was as if they enjoyed taking a room full of toys and paring it down into a little box. They smiled as they showed me their chosen treasures. Weird, right?

I read about Abraham this morning, and I thought back to when God told us to go. I remembered how easy it had all been. Despite the challenges, we had gone through with it. Despite the naysayers, we had moved forward. Despite the uncertainty and wackiness of the Word, we had left our home with a few suitcases and even less boxes, and we had hit the road to go wherever God said to go. I remember being scared, a little anxious at times, but nowhere near as bonkers as you would think a total life shift would make me. I took my children to a new city, with nowhere long term to shelter, a job that could fall through at any moment, and we had a ball. We loved it!

Now we live in an RV, and we live each day still with a “whatcha got next, God” attitude. I realize that when the Lord asks you to walk out your faith, He doesn’t ask you to walk alone. When the Lord requires deeds to follow the faith you profess, He gives you the strength to carry it out. I realized that a couple of years ago when we struck out for the unknown, we were able to move forward because God willed it. There was nothing extraordinary about us or our faith. He had simply given us the ability to step out in what He asked us to do. He had stripped away our flesh, and He had led us in Spirit. After all, our flesh would have flipped out at what we were doing back then, but our Spirits had simply obeyed.

It helped me understand that no matter what God has in store for our future, He will equip us to walk in it. It will never be something we must do on our own strength and might. All He asks is for a heart that seeks His, a heart that listens for next step directions, never being so distracted by the noise of the world, that you never hear His suggestion. After all, God never makes us do anything. He simply asks. It’s up to us if we will hear, and what we will do after that. I recognized today that we never have to worry that we can’t do what He asks, because He never asks us to do something He isn’t willing to make a way for. Where we lack, He will act. And looking back you’ll marvel at how stepping out was so easy.

How I Learned to Fall in Love

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This morning I was reading the Bible, and as I came upon a particular scripture I thought of my spouse.

Psalm 37:4 (ESV)

Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.

Immediately my mind went to my husband. This was no surprise. All morning I had been filled with love for him, and it seemed that now the Lord was telling me why.

As my husband had walked into the living room, first thing this morning, I had smiled. I had smiled at his bed head and scraggly beard. I had smiled at his sleepy eyes, surrounded with crow’s feet. We were both getting older, but the more his hair grayed and his wrinkles deepened, the more handsome he was to me.

I had smiled as he stood at the coffee maker, his rainbow, kitty cat pajama pants grinning back at me. What other middle aged man could make “People of WalMart” attire look so good? The press of his chest against the dull white of his stretched, old undershirt made me melt, and he was the only man who could make me respond this way. On his worse day, he put more flutters in my belly than People magazine’s Sexy Man Alive (any year and counting) could even try to achieve.

I put my Bible down, watching him through our big window, as he traipsed through the grass in compression stocking feet, hunting for a snake he had seen. My knight in shining pj’s, smirking like Steve Erwin on the trail of a crikey rattler. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, and not simply because I feared a snake bite on his black-socked toe. He was my everything.

I don’t often speak of him like that. Everything. It seemed too much, like I was placing him on a pedestal above God Himself, but I finally understood the Lord knew better. After all, it was God who had given me the gift of my husband, and I finally understood the gift wasn’t just someone to do life with. It was someone to understand love with.

God is love, and He freely gives us that love. He gave it in the gift of His Son, but even with that there are many who can not comprehend it. I guess He knew that would happen, and that’s why He had it included in scripture. He reminded spouses to love one another as Christ loved the church. Husbands and wives have the opportunity to experience the love of Christ in a concrete, tangible way, here on earth, but too often miss it. You see, that was my gift in my husband. God knew Ben would love me like Jesus loves us all (or as similar as possible for us imperfect people to manage).

As I read that Psalm this morning I realized I had finally learned how to fall in love, and stay in love. I had sought the Lord with my whole heart, giving Him every single part of my life, and in turn He has given me the desires of my heart. A heart desires love. Not the romcom, Hollywood kind, but the real stuff. The stuff that doesn’t make it into romance novels. The real deal that wasn’t always pretty, because life seldom is, but was perfect in its raw honesty and steadfastness. He had given me an unconditional love, so like the one He modeled here on earth, and He delighted in watching us dance and laugh in our romance.

This was the only way I could understand our marriage, why it was so perfectly imperfect, and such a beautiful mess. It was the only explanation for why I grew to love this man more and more, each and every day, even as our bodies aged and our worse idiosyncrasies emerged. It was the only thing that made sense in a heart that thought it couldn’t possibly hold any more abundant affection, yet somehow each day expanded its walls. He was my gift, my gift of love, my personal representation of Christ’s dedication to me.

My husband would never throw a stone at me, even though I have given him many reasons, but he also knew I wouldn’t lob one back in exchange. I was the desire of Ben’s heart too, and as he had diligently and unabashedly sought Jesus, I had become that love his heart needed. I had become his example of love in the flesh. We had been woven together, with Christ running through us, and the love that had emerged was cataclysmic. Even now as I write it leaves me breathless.

To put it simply, I found the more I sought the Lord, the more He revealed Himself. And the more He revealed Himself in my marriage, in my husband, and in our relationship. I’ve been blessed that this hasn’t been a one-sided deal. We have achieved our happiness through us both investing our time, our time to seek Jesus, our time to seek how to bless one another, our time to show appreciation for the gift of love we’ve been given.

I’m unsure how to end this post, and perhaps that’s fitting. Too often marriages end prematurely, either in divorce, or worse, indifference. So many couples end before they even begin. They never see the kind of love that’s free for their taking, if only they could delight to find it, to understand it’s found in Jesus.

I heard once that you never stop learning. So here’s to us all continuing our education in love, seeking it like it’s the most honored, advanced degree. Never seeing the end of our quest for perfect love, and finding it in our Savior, who blesses us with His love, here on earth, now and forever.

When in Doubt, Hug Your Spouse

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Every morning before I leave for work I gaze at my gorgeous girls, lingering a little longer on my hottie husband, and I deposit a farewell kiss on their foreheads. Never one to wake the rest of the house in the pre-dawn hours, I will tread lightly, and even in my goodbyes I am silently contemplative. I pray for them with unspoken words, and I slip out the door as discretely as I got ready for the day. Typically the only one in the household who even stirs is our tiny dog, who will roll onto her back for a good tummy rub from mom, but otherwise the household snoozes on. Yet that wasn’t the case this morning.

My morning had gone okay, and that’s me being really optimistic. In full transparency, it has been a tough morning. I found my mind doing circuits over things I could not change, and despite my best efforts, I dwelt on things below rather than those above. In lieu of my regular shower prayers, I struggled through pleas for God to guard my heart and mind against the muck that persisted in taking up residence there. Thoughts that I wasn’t good enough, or that God couldn’t use me where I previously thought. Thoughts I was certain had been previously vanquished. Point being, there was a lot of armor being slung around in my bathroom before coffee had even been made.

Later I had prayed for my babies, while the java finally brewed, and as my last task of the morning routine I brushed my lips lightly upon their sleeping heads. I saved my spouse for last, and after my lips left his warm skin I was surprised to see his eyelids flutter open.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” I whispered.

But he seemed unbothered, quickly and smoothly enveloping me with a warm, welcome embrace. I sunk with surrender into his arms, and it was like I melted there in the safety of his love. Perhaps it sounds melodramatic, but I cannot otherwise explain the weight that seemed to lift from my shoulders as I rested my head against his chest. It was like an addict’s fix, and I had not even realized I was jonesing for unconditional affection.

Later, during my commute, I realized the sweet release had continued. I felt lighter, less burdened all around, and my enhanced mood made it seem like a magic spell had been cast upon me. I guess love is like that.

If I’ve discovered anything in marriage, it is this. When in doubt, hug your spouse.

If they’re quiet, hug them. If they seem down, hug them. If they’re happy as a lark, hug them. If you’ve had a fight, hug them. If you want to make-up, hug them.

When you’re running late, hug them. When you’re bone-tired, hug them. When you’re in a bad mood, hug them. And when you’re feeling celebratory, hug them. Just hug them.

When you have no idea what to say, hug them. When you don’t have the answers, hug them. When you think there’s nothing you can do to make things better, hug them. When in doubt, hug your spouse.

Never underestimate the benefits of physical touch. A person can be wound tighter than a two dollar watch, and not even realize it. Yet a caring embrace can allow their guard to be let down, releasing the built-up tension and stress.

A well-placed hug says, “I see you, and I care about what you’re going through.”

It says, “I’m here for you. You don’t have to say a word, but know I’m here.”

Life is crazy; I get it. Our schedules are overloaded, our days busy, and our to-do list over done. But never miss the important things. Sometimes it’s the most simple of assurances that mean the most. So, when in doubt, hug your spouse.

How God Made a Miracle Marriage Out of Our Mess

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I guess if any relationship was doomed for failure, it was ours. I had come off the tail-end of heartbreak hard and fast. After six years of marriage, my ex-husband had come home and told me he didn’t love me anymore. Already an injured bird, it didn’t take much to rip off my wings, ensuring I would never fly again. Indeed, I was a woman who based her worth on the people who loved her, or sadly, in the event of divorce, the man who didn’t. And there you had this pitiful waif of a gal, running back home to Mississippi with her tail between her legs, sent packing by the funny guy from Chicago who had decided she wasn’t worth the effort. It was this broken mess that plunged heart-first into another love affair, but don’t go feeling sorry for me as the rejected woman. In all honesty, I was probably a terrible wife.

So, there you had a terrible (ex) wife, getting involved with a fellow ex’er. Yep, we were both once-divorced, and with a mix of trepidation and hope, we stepped into the mess of one another’s life. I’m not sure who was worse off, him or me, but I don’t guess that matters anymore. We certainly didn’t let it stop us then. My husband (husband now, that is) and I, ran into each other’s arms. He could no better hold me up than I could him, but I guess we tried. Two negatives do not make a positive, but we were determined to make our math work.

Within the first year of being married we found out a lot about each other. If dating me for a year, status post divorce and dirty thirty crisis, had not let Ben know I was an alcoholic, then living with me certainly did. He knew I was a homebody, but realizing I stayed home so I could drink became ever-clear (see what I did there) all the more once we were under the same roof. Each morning he would crush cans, twenty or thirty littering the kitchen counters, and he would laugh about how we needed to start recycling. I could drink him under the table, and we both knew it. After I began to abstain we would understand better why.

Now, don’t go thinking I was some saint who poured out my bottles of alcohol as some sort of victory stance. Nope. The only reason I quit drinking (at the time) was because of the tiny baby growing in my womb. I had desired, and failed, to stop drinking for years, but it wasn’t until the life of a child entered the mix that I put my vices on the back burner.

Well, I wasn’t the only one who wanted to quit being an addict. I still remember, at seven months pregnant, confronting my husband about missing narcotics. How had I not realized my spouse was on drugs before?! I guess I had always been too drunk to notice.

Y’all, that first year was a doozie. Maybe even the second year too. I’m not sure how two total idiots made a marriage work, but I’ll be the first to say it was a God-thing. Now, I certainly wouldn’t advise young couples to pursue matrimony and starting a family with someone as broken as yourself, but then again, I suppose we’re all broken in one way or another. Our problems were just more obvious to the keen observer. In between the lies, addiction, and wounded hearts, God did a miracle. He took two hopeless, helpless wrecks and exploded His spirit within us. I know it’s only God’s grace that made it happen rather than fall through the cracks.

It was God’s grace that caused me to give my new husband a chance that day on the sofa. I think he wanted that confrontation. I think he wanted to tell me. I think he wanted me to find out about the drugs. But I also think he thought I’d leave him. I did not.

In the heart of all men and women is the potential for good. We are created in the image of our Father in Heaven, and it’s only sin and this world that gets everything so convoluted. We all have sin, and if you say you don’t, you’re lying to yourself. The only question is, are you willing to be forgiven? And perhaps, also, are you willing to forgive?

I’ve realized that marriage is a whole lot about forgiveness. It’s forgiving because you were first forgiven, and it’s about loving beyond just yourself. I can’t explain how grateful I am that the Lord gave me such wisdom that first year or two into our marriage. He made me abundantly aware that I was so far from perfect, it wasn’t even funny. That I couldn’t expect perfection from others. But that He (alone) could make things perfect. He could heal broken hearts, broken lives, and make all things new. I didn’t go about trying to fix my broken husband. Instead, I went about fixing me. Or rather, allowing the Lord to show me how.

I realized pretty quickly that I couldn’t focus on what my husband had done or was doing wrong, but I could focus on being a better wife. I realized that I couldn’t make him do things my way, but I could do things for him. I discovered I couldn’t change him, but I could change me. Y’all, the craziest thing happened. While I was busy making myself a better wife, Ben became a better husband. I didn’t ask him to change; I just trusted Jesus to grow us both. And boy, did He ever.

Each day seems better than the last. Do you know what I mean? I hear so many people say, “marriage is hard,” but is it really? I don’t think marriage is hard. I think life is hard. Having someone to transverse through the difficulties of a hard life? Gosh, that’s a blessing.

My husband is my best friend. I didn’t think marriage could be as good as it is, but it only gets better. We have seen a lot in a short (long) decade. We saw addictions broken (ten years sober/clean for us both). We saw trust rebuilt. We experienced the birth and raising of three babies. We experienced poverty and more than enough. Then we experienced poverty again. We’ve been through a lost business, overdrawn credit cards, reposed vehicles, and foreclosure. We’ve seen ups and downs, but only of the life and world around us. Never of our marriage. Life will give you a hard shake and very little break, but marriage should be the gift from God that can be a rock in shifting sand. In fact, if Jesus is the foundation of your marriage, it should be a strong tower of refuge in this stormy life.

I serve my spouse in love, and he serves me also. We cover ourselves in scripture, and God’s Word is the instruction manual for our marriage. Every reaction I have towards him is spirit-driven (or rather I strive for it to be). Those rogue, angry thoughts will surface occasionally, but that’s why a good, Christ-like pause is important. I measure my words, and so does he. I can’t for the life of me remember the last time he said something hurtful to me. My husband is so gentle with me, so caring and considerate. I don’t think that’s a typical “man” thing. I think that’s a Jesus thing. My spouse handles me with care, driven by love, inspired by our Savior, and I treat him the same. Slow to speak, slow to anger, and quick to forgive. Focusing on the other person, even to the point of denying self. I don’t have to worry that by denying my own needs I am left lacking. My husband meets my every need, and I serve him the same.

It’s funny to me, looking back. Our relationship was doomed to failure, from the perspective of the world, that is. God, on the other hand, looked at the mess of us, like a glob of unformed clay, and He said, “I can work with that.” We were malleable, you know? We were willing to have God change us for the better. I mean, we knew we were broken, and I guess that’s the first step to a happy marriage and life. Looking at yourself (and not just the other person) and admitting you need to be changed by the Lord. It’s looking to Jesus to fix you, not the person you’re in a relationship with. It’s allowing God to do the refining, and then trusting that He knows how to shape things better than you ever could alone. That’s the only explanation for what started between Ben and me thirteen (even twenty-three) years ago, and what it has become today. God knew what He was doing when He put us together, and despite our attempts to foul things up and all our missteps, God still made a happily-ever-after out of our mess. He gave us a miracle marriage, and each day is like Heaven on earth.

The Only Love That Makes Sense

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I was listening to the radio this morning on the way to work, and as the singer’s lyrics rang out, I chuckled to myself at how true his words were.

He had sang, “it’s the kind of love that doesn’t make sense.”

And it certainly didn’t make sense how emotional I had been just twenty minutes before when listening to another song. A love song. My commute had started with a song about surrender, about handing my life to God so that He could make it into something beautiful. As I drove down the dark, deserted portion of turnpike, I had raised one hand in the air in agreement, and the act, thought, whatever, as the words poured through the speaker and into my heart, had caused me to weep uncontrollably.

Such love. That was what brought me to tears. Such peace at having my Heavenly Father direct my steps. That’s what had caused my emotional outpouring. I couldn’t help but bawl at such a wonderful love, and the fact that this relationship alone could rock me so severely made no sense, from a worldly point of you. I mean, I adored my children more than the air I breathed, but it took an intense event surrounding their lives to make my eyes leak at the corner. And I loved my husband more than words could express, yet even my immense affection for him did not impact me like the love of my Savior did. When I opened myself to the fact of what Jesus had done for me over 2,000 years ago, but also what He continues to do each and every day, I. Was. Wrecked. A total blubber-mess of gratitude and joy.

Sadly, I knew that for many people my response to thoughts of love for the Lord didn’t make sense, but as a woman who had suffered through the anxiety of trying to do life on my own, or the frustration of desperately seeking acceptance elsewhere, it made perfect sense. In fact, it was the only love that made any sense!

My husband is a wonderful husband, but the best thing I ever did for our marriage was understand that he couldn’t be my personal Mr. Fixit. He couldn’t save me, heal me, or love me perfectly. He just couldn’t. Human hearts are built longing for a perfect love, and the only surefire cure for the human condition is Jesus.

Spouses will let you down, friends will fail you. Children will frustrate you, and even your best pal will hurt your feelings. People will judge your performance, and they’ll falsely base your personal worth on what you do or the mistakes you make. These are the kind of common actions that create phrases like “love hurts,” but in all reality it’s the world that hurts. It’s sin that hurts. Love, in essence, in its purest form, the fact that God is love, this kind of love will never hurt us. Our running from it will hurt us, but there’s healing, total and complete, in surrendering to the perfect love we were created to enjoy.

The bottom line is that anything we pursue in this life, be it person or substance, to fill the void in our soul, it will fall short. It will be like the love you have for tacos. It’s pretty awesome, but it won’t save a life or build a future. Not even the best tacos. My spouse is the bee’s knees, but I don’t put the weight of perfection or filling my soul on his shoulders. He would collapse, and I’d end up dissatisfied. But, when I can realize that by falling fully for the only love that makes sense (the love of Christ), I am more able to healthily and happily invest in my other relationships. I can share that perfect love with them, and together we can all be content.

What I Realized When My Husband Left

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We’re this very weird family that loves spending time together. Do the children ever get on my nerves? Of course! But for the most part we’re inseparable. That’s why moving into an RV wasn’t a big deal. Although we had a large house before, we spent most of our time together in one room, so it wasn’t too much of a stretch to shrink our future home to the size of that prior family room. We choose to educate our children at home, to make it work somehow that daycare doesn’t come into play. We even co-sleep, and while I don’t get “perfect” sleep with them all in the bed, I can’t imagine it any other way. Late at night my husband and I will peer in awe at our sleeping children, commenting how much we wish we could freeze time.

But… don’t get the idea that my hubby and I don’t look fondly forward to the idea of being just the two of us one day. I mean, going somewhere fun without someone whining and complaining about their feet hurting or being bored? That. Sounds. Lovely. So, yes, we’re a tight knit family, but my spouse and I are an even closer couple.

Y’all, I could seriously spend 24/7 with that man. I never get tired of his presence. Even if we’re doing our own thing, separate from the other (because, come on, I can’t get into his computer games), there’s something special about being in the same room together. I’ll read my book while he fights evil pixels, and everything feels safe and in balance when we’re breathing the same space of air. It just does. I guess you could say, he’s the salsa to my taco. Or perhaps the promising rainbow after my rain. I know it sounds sappy, but I have to agree with Tom Cruise (and that’s the only time you’ll hear me say that). My husband completes me.

Well, as I stood outside last night, with one daughter curled up under each arm sobbing, it struck me. They waved goodbye, trying hard to smile as tears ran down their cheeks, and the positive aspect of my husband pulling away came into my mind. I squeezed my daughters close as they buried their wet faces in my ribs, and I realized just how blessed we were. Even as my soulmate left for the airport to take a trip without me by his side, I felt blessed.

I had someone to miss.

I don’t suppose that crosses my mind that often. I mean, I thanked God for my spouse frequently, but it was also easy to comfortably take for granted the love we shared. Marriage with him was so easy, and sadly, it wasn’t that way for everyone. I had a warrior in my corner, a man who would lay down his life to save my own. Not all damsels in distress had a knight, and even if they did, the armor wasn’t usually shining. I had someone to miss, and as my husband’s taillights dwindled, I knew our feelings would not. Each day our relationship grew, and for some friends I knew theirs had hit a roadblock. For others, perhaps a dead end. Our journey together felt like it was only beginning, and for that I could not feel sad.

Well, let me tell you. A person missing from the family bed does not make it more comfortable and spacious! I don’t know if all these years he’s been a buffer, intercepting kicks on my behalf, or what, but I do know that last night (without my husband present) was not a good night’s rest. I’m glad he’s back in two days. You see, I have someone who’s coming back.

As I held my daughters in bed last night I thought about that. Their daddy would be coming back. When I was the youngest two girls’ ages, my father left and didn’t come back. He didn’t look back. And to this day, he didn’t try and make up for lost time. Sometimes I felt easily forgettable, like a part of me was still an eight year old girl who it was so uncomplicated to give up. I wonder sometimes, thinking back on my long, laundry list of desperate love conquests, if God gave me Ben so I could feel especially loved and held dear. I think that’s probably it. He’s my gift from above to help heal the wounded edges of rejection that try to keep residence in my heart.

I have someone to miss.

I have someone who comes back after they leave.

I have someone who loves me and our children more than himself, and if I need to share him with others in his life for a day or two, I suppose I can spread the wealth. Lol.

But don’t think I’m not on countdown! Nor that I’ll get any sleep tonight.

A Letter to the Woman Who Wants a Better Husband

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To Desperately Praying Wives Everywhere,

Marriage isn’t what you imagined it to be, huh? I get it.

I remember being a young woman, daydreaming about building a family with the perfect guy. Maybe you too imagined how the Christmas cards would look, matching red pajamas, and beaming babies. Or you pictured sitting at the large, mahogany dining table together, sweet smiles, grateful bellies, an aura of well-earned pride over the most tender potroast ever. Sitting in the den, cuddled on the couch together, the doting children at your feet, a blazing fire crackling.

You didn’t ever see yourself screaming as you set up the auto-timer on your camera, “I said look this way! Smile or so help me, God!”

As your hurriedly tell your honey goodnight, taking your turn to tuck in exhausted kids at the end of another monotonous day, you realize, life is nothing like romance novels.

“It’s your turn,” you grumble to your spouse, in reference to the sink full of stained Corelle (the only dishes the children don’t consistently break), the aftermath of being a short-order cook for picky eaters.

Did anyone even say, thank you?!

It’s hardly ever movie night. No, it’s crying over homework right up until bedtime. It’s envying your partner as he dozes off in his recliner.

He could sleep through a tsunami!

It’s picking up the same mess, waiting in the car line at the elementary school. It’s taking off work for another doctor appointment, or leaving early to make the soccer game. It’s packing lunches, scraping together a fast meal, and telling your husband, “not tonight, hon. I feel all bloated.”

All you know is, it’s nothing like you imagined at all. You wanted a regular date night. Not a peck on the cheek as you scurry past one another on a rushed Monday morning.

“Do you know where I put my keys, dear?!” He says.

Sometimes you feel like no one could find their own butt if you didn’t tell them where God put it!

The next thing you know you’re angry about towels in the floor and balled up socks under the couch.

Does anyone know there’s a thing called a laundry basket?!

You find yourself easily annoyed over tiny nuisances.

Like, why does he put all his crap on the mantle?! It’s not his personal junk table!

Why is it every time you go in the bathroom, the hand towel is on the floor?!

You end up feeling like you. Do. Everything. Like, if you didn’t hold this family together, the whole thing would spin out of control. You work, pick up the children, make supper, clean house, help with homework, give baths, read bedtime stories, say prayers. Then it starts all over again the next day!

Maybe if he could just carry his fair share of the load!

Your marriage becomes more like a competition, and you are certain you bear the heavier burden. You keep a scorecard instead of a prayer journal. You allow one bitter thought to lead into another. A mound of discontent forms, threatening to topple and crush you both.

You become short-tempered, easily perturbed, getting snippy before you can even stop yourself. He responds back with anger, and then the silent treatment ensues.

This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.

So, I’m going to offer you some advice, my friend, something I learned through much trial and error. I’m going to tell you how to get a better husband.

Are you ready?

Wait for it…

The way to get a better husband is to become a better wife.

What?! I know what you’re thinking. He’s the one that needs to change, right? He needs to help more around the house, be a better listener, hang out with the kids more!

Well, this might be an unpopular opinion, but I think the best bet for a better marriage is to take the focus off what your partner is doing wrong, and instead focus on what you can do better. Your nagging and obvious discontent can change very little, but your persistent prayer can change a lot. I’ve found that the more I seek to serve my spouse, the more he serves me in return. You can change no man, but the Lord has softened more hearts than you can count. Seek the Lord often, and follow scripture for the kind of wife that pleases God. Everything we do in this life should be to His glory and service, and therefore my marriage is my ministry. I strive to show my spouse love like Jesus would do, and I’ve found that since I began this work, my marriage has been abundantly blessed.

My spouse serves me in love, and neither of us waste time on what the other isn’t doing. Our relationship is a partnership, but we don’t bother with keeping score. Instead of ensuring it’s an equal 50/50 relationship, we simply give 100% of ourselves to the marriage. It’s not a contest, it’s a team, and we don’t bother with whose turn it is to sprint. We just keep pace together.

I discovered that selfishness is the saboteur of marriage. When we focus on who we think is giving more (which is usually ourselves), we become blinded by lies from the enemy. Seeds of discontent are sown, we forgo forgiveness, and grace is a goner. But if we can let go of the things that aren’t important, instead focusing on the love we share, we can calmly and clearly see our spouse’s heart for us.

So, if you’re that desperately praying wife, beating your head against the wall for how to make your man be a better husband, perhaps the answer isn’t found in him. Perhaps it’s found in you. I know it’s found in Jesus.

Start today. Begin to see your marriage as a ministry to the Lord. Serve your spouse like you’re serving Jesus, and watch as the Lord begins to bless your life. Surrender your spouse to God, and you just do you. The Lord will sort out the rest. You’ll see.

Signed,

A Passionately Praying Wife Whose Prayers Were Answered

What Marriage is Not

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“Can you do me a huge favor?” My husband’s text inquired.

Before I could finish typing my reply he continued with, “it’s ok if you can’t…”

I watched the texting bubbles continue and finally emerge, “do you mind taking a detour on the way home?”

I easily replied, “of course. I’d do anything for you.”

Then I sent an amusing Meatloaf meme. Meatloaf the band, not the entree.

What I didn’t do was think, “I can’t believe he asked me to do that!” Although I could have. After all, at the time I was currently on my fourth, twelve hour shift in a row, and he knew this full well. Twelve hour shifts are no joke anyway, but factor in more like thirteen at the critical care patient bedside, and it felt like a seventy-two hour shift. Well, it had been over fifty hours worked in a mere four days. Point being, yeah, I was tired.

When my husband (who didn’t work outside of the home) asked me to stop and pick him up something, I didn’t think the above for even a moment. It never entered my mind actually. He needed something, I had the only vehicle, and most importantly, I loved him.

You see, love is service. You serve in love and that’s the core of marriage. Here’s what marriage is not. It’s not comparison.

To say, “well, I’ve been working all day” is to suggest that he had not been working.

To say, “well, my job at the hospital is harder than his job at home” not only took away from the important tasks he performed in our home, but it also tried to value me over him. That’s not something we do.

Nursing is hard.

Parenting is hard.

Patient care is hard.

Homeschooling is hard.

Working outside of the home is stressful.

Working inside the home is stressful.

I’ve done both fulltime, so I knew.

I knew you can’t really compare the two, but I knew I wouldn’t want to anyway. You see, our relationship isn’t based on who does more. It’s based on the question we both ask ourselves daily, “what more can I do to serve my spouse in love?”

Love isn’t just a word, but it’s also not just a feeling. If love was only feelings I certainly would not have felt like making a detour that night. No, love was also action. You showed love by your service in love, without complaint, without comparison, without expecting something in return.

When I arrived home that night, after making my detour, I was hit immediately by the delicious smell wafting out the kitchen window. Waiting for me was homemade fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, corn on the cob, and freshly baked cookies. My happy, healthy daughters greeted me with a smile, displaying proudly their schoolwork from that day, graded by their teacher/principal/dad. I walked happily into the clean living room and noticed the empty laundry baskets sitting in the hall. He had done it all. After dinner he massaged my tired feet and got our daughters ready for bed. If we were keeping track, he had probably outdone me that day, but rather than tallying up a scorecard, I simply enjoyed the feeling of being taken care of so well. Of being loved so well. Of being served in love, and serving in return, not out of obligation, but because of our shared affection. That was marriage.