Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

Is Satan Stealing Our Marriages?

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This morning I sat outside sipping hot coffee while a cool (but not too cold breeze) stirred the air. My husband and children still slept, and per usual I had awoken a bit before them so I might enjoy some quiet time before our day began. We had made plans to go swimming at a natural spring, and I knew the task of packing up for a day away awaited me. There would be suits to track down, dry clothes to pack, and of course, food for the day. Feeding a family of five at a snack bar got pricey, so bringing our own grub was a must. I’d need cold drinks to keep everyone hydrated, and I wondered if we should blow up and haul our own innertube?

Another breeze blew over me, refreshing, nice, and the Hebrew word ruach entered my mind. Wind, breath, the very spirit of God, it blew on me and I felt peace, contentment, satisfaction. “I could sit here all day,” I whispered, and by the time my husband woke up I had decided to do just that. He was quick to agree, and just like that we dropped the well-intentioned plans we had made for the day.

Have you ever noticed how plans play out? Especially with small children? You spend a large amount of time creating fun ideas, creating the best environment for those ideas, and struggling to have them play out just as you envisioned. Which never happens. We’ve forgotten how to be still, and we’ve forgotten how to enjoy simple. And it’s just one more thing that the enemy is using to drive a wedge between a husband and wife.

How many expensive vacations end in exhaustion? An empty savings account, a stressed out mind, and the silent treatment. We’re a very mobile generation, always on the move, and we expect as much from our family as we do our internet provider.

Hurry up! Come on! Let’s go. We’re running out of time!

Wives are on edge, and husbands are at the end of their rope. You see, both are working very hard to create a picture perfect life, one that Instagram would be proud of.

“I’m making memories,” we proclaim.

But at what cost, I wonder?

Overtime. Husbands and wives both working full-time to support a family is commonplace, and while I’ll be the first to admit that this world today is crazy expensive, I’ll also be the first to confess that it isn’t as pricey as we create it. We are the ones who decide our homes must be a certain size. We need the fourth bedroom and downstairs half-bath. We gotta have more than one vehicle, and it needs to be something reliable. Minivan? Yuck. No thanks. A Suburban, please. We work to buy the stuff we don’t need, and as our square footage grows, so does our work week. Cha-Ching.

But one thing is for sure. We do it for our children. They need the absolute best. They need the dance class, drama camp, and tumbling too. All of the above, please. Sign us up!

I’ll volunteer to chaperone the field trip. Hubby can coach little league on the weekends. Games on Sunday? No problem.

We pull an extra shift at work to purchase new uniforms, use that credit card for the nicer pair of cleats. Johnny says all the other kids are wearing the name-brand ones, and you don’t want him to feel left out or get bullied.

Homework. Oh my goodness, the homework those kids bring in the door. You yell too much, and then you feel guilty. You know your son is just tired from staying up late due to that extended basketball practice, and waking up early to drive across town to his exclusive private school.

Somewhere in between the late nights, running errands after practice, overtime at the office for next year’s Disney trip, and squeezing in a quick WalMart trip for another Reading Fair project, you manage to squeeze in a date night. You sit at a dark booth, both of you with your heads in your phone, and you wonder when life will slow down.

Was it always this hard?! They say it’s easier after the kids leave home, but then you think of all your parent’s friends who got divorced once empty nesters. Did they run out of stuff to talk about? You can certainly relate. I mean, what’s there to discuss once the conversation doesn’t center around the children, where they’re going and what achievement they just won? What happened to people staying in love forever? Maybe true love doesn’t exist anymore.

Or perhaps we’ve just changed our investment strategies. Maybe our focus isn’t on our marriages. I think we’re too overwhelmed to feed into that relationship. We’ve become complacent in our comfortable life as roommates, partners in parenting, and financial assistant roles. We assume our marriage will thrive without watering, with plans to feed into it later. There’s just no time!

I wonder if we create our overloaded schedules? Is it our boss insisting we work late, or are we the cause? We can’t face our spouse that we forgot how to talk to. We can’t face another conversation about the kids’ future. The stress and worry is too much, and overtime seems like a pleasant option.

I wonder if we create our debt? We need 3000 square feet! We need a trip to the coast! We need a closet so packed the doors won’t close, and a cupboard so full of processed food we can make on the fly! We need Maui, a newer cell phone, and of course, more toys. Toys to keep the children entertained, but also toys to keep each other happy. It fills the silence, you know.

We are so focused on raising the best children on the block. We are so focused on appearances. We are so focused on bigger, better, and more. We’ve gotten so good at being busy; we consider it a badge of honor. We’ve gotten so concerned with keeping up with what everyone else is doing. We’ve gotten so used to being stressed out that we think it’s normal. We medicate with wine, and we overindulge in our favorite vices. We’re too tired for sex, too exhausted to just sit and talk. We keep waiting for life to slow down, never understanding that we set the pace.

Husbands and wives become opponents instead of teammates. Marriage becomes a contest to see who contributes the most to the family unit. We become bitter, expecting our spouse to give us a reprieve, even though we ourselves have created our own chaos.

Parents forget that children don’t come first! Kids plot parents against one another, having learned early on that we allow it. We spend thousands of dollars a year on things our children don’t need, and we invest even more in a college fund to the most prestigious university. Never once do we invest in our relationship with our spouse.

But date night, you say. We have that!

Ahh, yes, the two hours alone, where you’re both too exhausted from work to do much more than lift a heavy fork to your silent mouth. That sounds lovely.

We have removed fathers from the head of the family, and we’ve replaced them with our darling child. They rule the roost. We even joke about it on Facebook. Isn’t it so cute how sassy my little diva is?!

We’ve placed our work above our families. We’ve given it to coaches and teachers to handle. Yet when something falls apart, our spouse will be the one we attack.

We’ve dropped going to church together on Sunday. It’s seriously the only day we can sleep in. Saturday is packed with extracurriculars. We’re too tired to pray together before bed, and we can’t seem to find the time to instruct our children with the Bible. They already have so much homework as it is!

But then we wonder why our children don’t respect us? We wonder why our spouse is so short-tempered.

What about our quiet time with God? Well, it’s been a while. We planned to do that today, but there was too much to do before we left the house. The house with the crazy, high mortgage, that we spend very little time in other than to sleep five hours a night.

We make excuses.

If only my husband would help out more around the house.

If only my wife would try to understand I have needs.

We’ll work this out tomorrow. I’m exhausted tonight.

One silent day leads to another, and leads to another. We find ourselves living together but feeling alone. We raise children together but exist in silence, an invisible space separating us. We make it so easy for Satan to destroy the foundation of marriage. He uses our busyness to keep us from communicating. He uses our selfishness to increase our anger. He uses our coveting and comparison to keep us working harder for more of what we don’t need. He uses our obsession with the educational excellence of our children to keep us away from time with one another. He uses our preoccupation with our cell phones, tablets, and social media accounts to keep us from making God’s Word a part of our everyday lives. He brings sin into our homes slowly, so slowly that we barely recognize it. We’re sure the movies we watch, books we read, or websites we visit in secret aren’t harming our relationships.

But I’m of the belief that we must take back our families from the enemy. We must claim our right to a happy, healthy relationship like God intended. We have to take back our time. We can’t become confused by what the world says is important. We can’t believe the lies the enemy tells us to focus on. We have to stop investing into the world and get back to investing in love. We can’t spend the majority of our life away from our families, but then wonder why they’re falling apart. We have to stop investing so much in the materialistic aspects of our home, yet neglecting the lasting flesh and blood that resides therein. We gotta stop keeping up with the Joneses and start keeping up with God’s will for our families.

God created marriage, and He didn’t just make it so we’d have someone to help us with the dishes. He didn’t create this covenant with arguments over who forgot to buy toilet paper in mind. He didn’t place us together to run ourselves ragged with busy schedules and overwhelming responsibilities. He created marriage to mirror His covenant with us, and on the day we finally become His bride, do you think He’ll be too busy running the angels to soccer practice to sit down at the banquet table with us? Do you think He’ll be too tired to talk or too overwhelmed by His day of miracles to hold us?

And here’s a thought. Our children are watching us. They are creating their idea of marriage based on our example. What type of husband are you modeling for your daughter’s future expectations? What kind of wife are you showing your son to build a life with? Do you know how Satan is stealing our marriages? Through us! We are eagerly breaking down the future foundation of marriage by our poor example, and our complacence and neglect is pushing our own spouse further and further away. It shouldn’t be so.

We have to take back our marriages before it’s too late. We have to reclaim our time so we can invest it where it is needed most. We have to take our eyes off other relationships and focus them in our own backyard. We have to let Dad lead the family. We have to stop competing. We have got to quit going and going! We have to be still! We have to sit quiet and let the ruach blow over our marriages. We’ll never feel it if we’re too busy striving for more. You have to be still to truly feel the wind blow. We have to stop handing the enemy our family on a golden platter. We have to take back what God has given us. We have to open our eyes to the gift of our spouse, just as God made them, and stop trying to make them into someone else. We have to take time to appreciate our partner. We have to trade in our badge of busy for the soothing silk of stillness. Only in simplicity can we truly see how blessed we are.

So I suppose the question is this. God has given us marriage. Will you make the pledge to take it back from the enemy today?

How to Find Your Happy

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I could probably gripe about a lot of things that annoy me when working as a nurse, but if I had to pinpoint my biggest frustration it would probably be computer problems. Like, ugh. Since when do I have to be an IT Specialist?!

I’ve been charting electronically for eighteen years or so, and in all that time I’ve discovered the number one fix when having computer trouble.

You call the Help Desk (appropriately named), and you plead, “help me! My screen is frozen!”

I mean, you just wanna finish charting. You have sooooo much to do and so little time.

Usually the IT person will fire back with, “have you restarted your computer?”

“I need you to turn it off, give it about fifteen seconds, then turn it back on.”

Reboot. Unplug. Reminds me of calling Comcast Cable. Am I right?!

The IT guy will take control of my mouse and locate some screen I didn’t know existed where he’ll “end” the running programs. Heck, I’ve had instances where I had a handful of programs running at once and didn’t even realize it.

A couple of years ago I realized I wasn’t as happy as I knew I should/could be. I mean, I was happy for my family, time with my husband and kids, our home, and the nuggets of great moments mingled here and there, but something wasn’t right. I loved my life, but it’s like the program wasn’t running like it should. I was frozen by anxiety, stalled by worry, and run down with fatigue. It turns out I had too many tabs open on my dashboard, and I was running more programs than my server could handle. I wasn’t operating at full speed, and I seriously needed to delete some cookies, but not being very techy, I didn’t have a clue.

Remember that movie “How Stella Got Her Groove Back?” Well, I guess I could have titled this post appropriately as, “How Brie Got Her Happy Back.”

Remember how the Help Desk always tells you to turn off your computer, or to end your multiple programs? Well, when I cried out for help in life, God came back that I had too many tabs open. It was overwhelming. I wasn’t running at my full potential of joy because I was running too many irrelevant programs. I had to delete some cookies. Empty the trash.

I started with unplugging. I stopped running and got real quiet. Once I turned off my anxious mind and sought the Lord for what was important in life, I was able to hear His direction. I had to close some tabs. I had to evaluate what I could close out, and what I needed to keep open.

I decluttered not just my mind, but also my life. I stopped activities that weren’t building up my relationship with my family. That direct sales business that was consuming me? I let it go. All the clothes I had to wash? I gave them away. All the trinkets I had to dust? I sold them. The big house I couldn’t keep clean? I let it go. The busy tasks that I thought I needed to do to be a “good mom?” I stopped. The comparisons of myself to other women? I turned my eyes from others, and instead I sought the Lord.

“What do you want for my family, God?”

All the things I had thought were important, I realized they were not so much.

I asked myself, “is this ________ leading my children closer to the Lord? Is is glorifying Jesus? Is it building my witness? Is it built in love, and does it display God’s love to others?”

If the answer was “no,” then I re-evaluated if that was a tab I needed to keep open, or if it was bogging down my productivity.

If it was keeping me busy, but not making me fulfilled, I let it go. Y’all, you’ve never seen such a decluttering. Not only did I sell or give away furniture I had accumulated over a twenty year period, but I also trashed false ideas the enemy had planted in my mind over several decades. I let go of fear over things I couldn’t change, and I got rid of material possessions that took up my time and money. We re-evaluated how much we worked. If we downsized our life, couldn’t we also downsize our work week? The answer was yes. If we got a smaller home and less cars, couldn’t we gain more time together? Absolutely. If we dumped our full schedule and let go of our preconceived notions of how our life should look, we found a hidden treasure.

It was our happiness. Peace in simplicity. A feeling of fulfillment in simple pleasures. A healthy operating system that ran more smoothly with less windows open. The to-do list got chiseled down, and the moments of quiet increased. The problem is, we live in a society that celebrates busy! The fuller your plate, the more successful you must be. But we debunked that myth. We live in a world that says more is better, and then we wonder why our days at work drag like a slow internet connection, or our off days disappear like a hastily deleted file. I’ll tell you a secret. More isn’t better; it’s only overwhelming your system.

Running from one thing to another is typically something people brag about, but then they wonder why everyone in the family falls apart prior to bedtime. Wives and husbands are craving a date night because their schedules are too full for everyday moments together. Families are on countdown for vacation so they can escape the hectic pace of their life. Why is it this way?

When our systems break down either physically, emotionally, or mentally, we cry out to God, “why?!”

And He’s just shaking His head, “I told you to be still.”

Perhaps the cure for anxiety is letting go. Maybe the solution to financial worry is getting rid of the root of the problem. I’m saying that I think the secret to finding your happy is in the action of taking your eyes off the things that cause you stress. Everyone laments about their stressful life and full schedule, but how many are actually finding a solution? If you’ve got too many files open, close them out! If you’re holding on to problems you cannot change, people who cause you pain, and past hurts, then it’s time to delete the cookies. Empty the trash. Unplug. Give your system a break, and when you restart, I’d consider removing all the dangerous files.

I had to get to a point in life where I said, “is this impacting my eternity or my children’s salvation?”

No? Then I’m letting it go.

I asked, “does this have a kingdom impact? Is it glorifying God?”

No? Bye-bye.

And finally, “is it done it love?”

If it’s not done in love or showing His love, then I’m not really about it. I can be happy at my job, because I’m showing His love. I can be happy with less stuff, because I have all I need. Love. I can do less activities that keep me busy, and spend more time loving my family. For my husband and me, every day together is like a date night. When thoughts come to my mind that cause me anxiety or depression I’m immediately questioning, “but is this love.” God doesn’t give me thoughts that aren’t centered or from a place of His love for me. Even His conviction is from His love, but fear never is. When I clear my mind of the outside noise, I can more easily clear it of the inside noise. Interesting how that works.

So, how do you find your happy? By looking for it! It’s just not found where you think. It’s not found in a bigger house and fatter bank account. It’s not found in pay raises and job promotions. It’s not even found in a trip to The Happiest Place on Earth (sorry Mickey fans). Are you ready for it? Your happy is found right where you are. It’s right here. It’s directly in front of you and in your grasp. You just can’t see it for all the distractions. You’re running too many tabs all at once and holding on to files you should have gotten rid of long ago. If you’re crying out to the Help Desk, I can tell you already, they’re gonna ask if you’ve turned it off.

Restart. Reboot. End Program. Because you can only run on so much before you crash.

When Everyone Thinks You Will Fail

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“I’m gonna be honest,” he said. “I thought this was a really bad idea when you first brought it up.”

I wasn’t surprised. A lot of people had felt that way. People I loved, people whose opinion I valued. People who had a huge impact on my life, and people I desired to please. These were the people who had thought we were making a mistake, but I guess when God is leading you to something different, you have no choice but to go with it. You just hope they’ll come around.

Almost two years later, the majority of our family and friends had. They were truly happy for us as we led an unconventional life that went against the grain of everything that society told us was normal. They saw it in our eyes, our smiles, our very countenance. They saw how joyous we were after letting go of all the things that were supposed to make us happy in this world.

I know onlookers had stood agasp as we emptied our two story home of all its contents, sold our possessions for less than half of their worth, and locked the doors, turning our backs on what had once been considered our dream home. As I walked through it yesterday, footsteps echoing across the empty floor and radiating down the bare hall, I felt nothing. Once upon a time it had been bittersweet to say goodbye to our house, but that was before I truly discovered what made a home. I had only left the large house looming in my rear view because I knew God had something else in store. But yesterday, I didn’t look back as we pulled out of the long, shaded drive. I just left it behind.

Sometimes what lies ahead of you is far better than you could ever fathom. I’m glad we had believed that when the rest of the world looked at us like we were crazy.

I can still remember what it was like. I was happy. I was. But I was also tired. I was stressed out, sometimes depressed for no particular reason at all. I missed my husband, and I longed for him to really smile again. Something happens when you build a family, when you grow up. You enter into a place of anxiety and dread mixed with tiny moments of wonderful. You spend 75% of your life working to achieve that 25% of happy. You assume, “this is just the way it is,” as if working long hours, running errands on two wheels, drowning in debt, and burning the midnight oil is a part of the life you have built. Long hours at the table hammering Singapore Math equations into your eight year old. Was it like this for our parents?

Why can’t there be more of the happy? Is a quarter of joy really all you can get? You assume so.

We rush, we bustle about. We run here and there. We work, work, work. Birthday parties get bigger, Easter becomes like Christmas. The closets overflow. Time for another purge! If we pull a few more overtime shifts we can take vacation in June.

Sunday is an afterthought. Church is a place where you’re supposed to go. Gotta train up the kids right! God don’t mind if you miss for football, though. Hard to get any good news in your spirit since Sunday School is the only place you can find time for your Bible. But Monday is creeping up on you, the weekend is over, and back to the grind we go.

Gotta get new shoes, a brand that won’t cause your kid to get bullied, a style that will make them the envy of the other kids, the ones that will make you look like a good mom for buying them.

People thought we were crazy when we said, “let’s just get rid of it all!”

They thought we just meant the minivan with automatic doors and the ruffle dresses. They didn’t realize we meant the multiple car payments and dreaded mound of never-ending laundry too. They thought we were just selling the house. They never knew we were also refunding the false idea that a large living room made life good. We found out the whole world could be our backyard!

When we said we were going to travel the country in an RV, folks thought we were chasing a pipe dream, like the idea of it was more magical than the reality would entail. Some people even thought we would fail.

I get it! It’s hard to leave your comfort zone. It’s not easy to leave the way you’ve always known and embark on a future without answers. We took off with a tow vehicle we couldn’t yet afford, to pull a fifth wheel we didn’t yet own, to work a job that gave no promises of stability. We reserved a hotel we couldn’t keep paying for long term, and we carted everything we owned in suitcases and a handful of rubber-made totes. Gosh, we were a little crazy. But we were tired. So very tired.

You grow up thinking you need to obtain that Great American Dream, but when you finally do, you wonder where the joy went. It’s fragmented, kind of like your time, broken apart and unfairly divided amongst your many, overflowing responsibilities. We fall right into Satan’s plan, in student loan debt, working over in a job we hate, for a family we never see, and a vacation that will leave us exhausted. Well, dang.

My husband let another driver go first the other day. My spouse had the right of way. The other driver was very confused by my husband’s kindness and patience, and it took him a moment to pull forward and drive off. People are numb to the fast pace. They’ve become accustomed to road rage, anger management, horns honking, driving ten miles above the speed limit, and passing someone to gain a precious microsecond. That’s the way of the world. Everyone is in a hurry. But we decided we wanted to teach our children that servants don’t have a problem going last.

So, we let go of the ideas that more is better or that things like public opinion matter one iota when it comes to eternity and love. We live in 500 square feet, tiny compared to our previous floor plan, but man oh man, how our hearts have grown. For one another and others. We work less, play more. Our closets aren’t as full, but it wasn’t just designer jeans and boots we threw in plastic bags to give away; we got rid of the stress. We let go of worry, and instead we held tight to time together. We homeschool, we roadschool, we unschool the ideas of the world. We teach kindness, patience, even a little washing feet.

I think some of our friends and family worried how we would handle traveling somewhere new, holding a new job, living in new neighborhoods, away from the comfort of routine, the way things had always been. But I reckon sometimes you have to shake loose the dust of comfortable when it makes you complacent to living the life God has in mind for us all. He wants us focused on loving one another, taking the time to savor a sunset, throwing our hands up in surrender, saying, “your will, not mine.”

I guess that’s what we really did when we sold our stuff, packed up our family, and took off to travel in an RV. We just threw up our hands. We let go of what the world had said would make us happy. All of that was too stressful, too hard to maintain, too silly to sacrifice for mere scraps of happy. Why do we assume life must be a roller coaster? When do we admit all the dips and jerks are of our own design? We realized God didn’t have stress, struggling, and striving for us. He had thriving, not just surviving. He just wanted our love. The rest He would give us as needed, and I have to say that’s the best thing I’ve learned this past year. I don’t have to struggle for happy. He just gives. So I just need to receive.

People thought we were crazy, they thought we would fail, but we found that the really crazy part is how we used to live, tired and worn thin, hoping for a sliver of time together. We always felt we were failing at carving out a chunk of joy amidst all the chaos, but we realize now we only failed because we tried too hard at too much of nothing.

Maybe this all sounds like the musings of a crazy woman, but I’ve never felt more sane. We value time over treasure, we hold more highly the love we can bestow than the gifts we can get. What I mean is this. We just love Jesus and live life. We trust Him, we spend more time together than we spend money. We let go of fear and grabbed tightly to trust. We did this by selling all our stuff and moving into an RV, but I figure God can change hearts any which way He designs. For us, it took a drastic change to shift our mindset to what’s important in life, but maybe for someone else He can do it another way.

All I know is that most folks don’t think we’re crazy anymore. They think we’re onto something good. They see the experiences our children are having, seeing sights they never would before, meeting new people, and watching mom and dad trust the Lord for it all. They don’t think we’ll fall down or fail anymore. They realize that we’re actually living the dream. The legit dream. And it’s nothing like society has esteemed it to be. Nothing at all.

The Thing About Loving Your Spouse

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I love my husband. I do. It’s not that hard to love him, either. He’s a great guy. But that doesn’t mean he’s always easy to love. When he does something I don’t agree with, or when he gives me the silent treatment, well, at those times it’s not so easy to love him. I mean, I still do. That’s what unconditional love means. When he’s annoying or argumentative, I love him, but I sure don’t love the moment.

Have you ever heard someone say, “I love them, but I don’t know if I like them very much!”

It’s laughable, sure, and I can think of a time or two, in the heat of an argument, when I did not like my husband very much at that moment. Thankfully, those instances are so rare that I can hardly recall the last time he wasn’t easy to love, but it did get me to thinking about something I heard at church. If we’re supposed to love like Jesus then we have to try and like them too. Easier said than always done.

But then there’s this. I was praying for my husband this morning, and it always seems like when I’m in prayer for him, that’s when God tells me something good. There I was thanking the Lord for my relationship with my spouse and telling God how much I loved my spouse, when He impressed to me something I had not really thought of quite like this before.

He said, “I need you to love him for me.”

I got His meaning right away, but allow me to explain if you’re not following our private conversation. He meant that it’s my job to love my husband for Jesus. It’s my calling to love him like the Lord would do. In this life it can be hard to always intimately feel the love of the Lord. We can’t see it like we do love experienced here on earth between one another. I mean, God doesn’t leave me a love note to remind me He cares or send me a text message when He knows I’m having a bad day. He does leave me love notes, in His own wonderful way, like a lovely sunset on my way home, or that feeling of joy that can only be explained by the Holy Spirit, but still. At times it’s hard for us humans to always see His particular love letters around us, and in those times He counts on His children to deliver the message. Are you getting it?

In other words, God counted on me to show His love to my spouse. My husband’s Heavenly Father loves him in a way I never could, but it is my job as a wife to emulate that love as closely as I can. God blesses my husband in so many ways, but one of the ways is through me. I love my husband deeply, and that is my gift, but also the Lord’s gift to him. When I love my husband, I am following part of God’s will for my life! Have you ever thought of it that way?

It’s easy to love a stranger, the homeless man on the corner on your way home, your pastor, or even that child from Africa on those commercials on TV. You know God calls you to love those people, but we forget that God calls us to love our spouse also. We don’t just love them because we’re married and that’s how it is when you’re married! We don’t just love them because of a piece of paper, for the sake of our kids, or the nostalgic idea of some words we uttered before our friends and family at the altar. We love our spouses because that is what God calls us to do. It’s what He had in mind for us all along. It’s a huge part of the ministry calling He has on our lives! And here’s an important part. In those tough times when your spouse may feel distant from the Lord because of earthly circumstances, it’s you who can carry them the heart of Jesus. In this way, we are the ultimate hands and feet of Christ. He’s calling us to wash the feet of our spouse, even when it’s an especially dirty job.

We are called to love our spouse when it’s not always easy. Why?

Because Christ first loved us.

He loved us in a perfect love. He loved us in sin, when we were especially unlovable. He loved us when we doubted Him, denied Him, betrayed Him, and even when we crucified Him. We are Judas, and He loves us still. That, my friends, is how we are called to love our spouse.

When my husband sees me, he should see Jesus. When I love him, he should feel the heart of God. The Lord has filled me with His spirit, and when I love in that spirit, I am truly loving like He has commanded me to do. Marriage is more than just the union between a couple; it is the representation of the covenant promise between Jesus and the church, His bride, us. When I love my husband I show him a preview of love divine, a foreshadowing of eternity, a piece of what greatness awaits us in Heaven. Gosh, when you put it that way it makes you feel kinda bad for hastily muttered words under your breath, am I right?

God said, “I need you to love him for me.”

I love my husband, y’all. So, so much! But to imagine, to realize, to understand that my love is a representation of Christ. Wow, that makes me love him even more.

When God Took My Husband

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You know what’s hard to figure out at nineteen? Well, let’s be honest. A lot of things! But do you know one thing I especially couldn’t quite grasp yet? It was the fact that God had my best interest at heart, always and forever, and even when I couldn’t see it. I believe this more now than I did over twenty years ago, but I think most of us still forget it’s true. We forget His plans are to prosper us, or His ways are higher than ours. I mean, we hear this stuff over and over through the years. We even read it ourselves in the Bible, yet it’s easy to forget. It’s easy to think maybe that part is for someone else. That makes it hard to give God something you want to hold onto. It’s hard to hand over control of the things you hold really dear.

I found the man of my dreams about twenty-two years ago. He was handsome, but he was also kind. He was unique and talented, but also humble and personable. He was unlike any young man I had met before. He was slow to anger, but so quick to forgive. He loved me. And the best part? He loved me for me. I didn’t have to pretend to be someone else. In fact, never before had I felt more at ease and comfortable with someone of the opposite sex.

I was new at this comfortable kind of love. We didn’t fuss, and we didn’t have to try so hard to be happy. We just were. I also was new to another relationship at the time, and that was with Jesus. I mean, I had attended church for years, but it wasn’t until my freshman year of college that I understood there was a difference between religion and relationship. I was growing in a way spiritually I had never experienced before. I was finally able to understand the Father Heart of God and how His love for me could heal all my past hurts. I was studying the Bible, praying more, seeking God each day, and my beau fit in perfectly with it all. He was the one!

Yep, I said it. The One. Capital “O.” I felt like God told me so. I was new at this hearing God’s voice thing, but I understood it didn’t have to be a burning bush to be Him speaking to me. I was finding that I could hear Him through others, through the scriptures, but also through the quietness of my own heart seeking His will. I had witnessed His miracles, and I had found that when I followed through with the things His Spirit placed within me, He worked in mighty ways. He revealed things to me I would never know on my own. So many things. Naturally, when I felt Him impress to me that the young man described above would be my husband, I took Him at His word.

Have you ever lost something you loved? Something that you knew was right? I did. I watched my college sweetheart go away, and I felt my heart rip in two over that broken promise. I knew God had this man to be my husband. Even after we broke up I still felt like it was true. It was like the Lord had taken him from me, this one thing that made me so happy, and I couldn’t understand why He would do that. I couldn’t understand why we had to give up our relationship.

They say, in Christian circles, that you should willingly give over everything to God. They say He knows better than we do. They use words like “His timing,” or “everything happens for a reason.” Well, that doesn’t help a thing when you’re in the midst of loss. It’s hard to see God’s plan as it is, so never mind the difficulty when your vision is clouded by a veil of tears. I did not give my love life to God back then. I didn’t say, “whatever you say, Lord.” Instead I cried, I begged, I yelled, and I pleaded. I didn’t surrender my plans in favor of His; instead I became bitter and distant. What kind of God hurts the people He loves? Why even tell me this man was the one if he so obviously wasn’t?

The amazing thing to me is that even if you don’t give your life (or most precious possession) to God, He is still faithful. I didn’t hand my future husband to Jesus! He took him from me! But then He gave me now.

Twenty-two years later and I am married to the man of my dreams. It’s the man God told me I would marry. It just didn’t happen when I thought it would. I realize now that we weren’t ready. We were not the man and woman God needed us to be. We were distracting one another from the plans God had, and He had yet to refine us to the vessels He would need us to be for His kingdom purposes. At nineteen it’s hard to understand that your life has more purpose than just yourself. It’s hard to see the impact God wants to make through you for the world at large. Heck, it’s hard to always see that at twenty-nine, thirty-nine, and beyond. But I’ve discovered He always has kingdom purposes. You don’t have to be a minister or missionary to change the world for the better. If you impact positively even one life then you have served a purpose higher than yourself.

We were not the husband and wife we needed to be two decades ago. We were not the parents we would need to be to raise our amazing daughters. And while the Lord can work with any kind of mess, at any age, and at any time, His purposes for our lives together needed to ruminate. We needed to wait.

I am a better wife today than I was yesterday, but especially better than I would have been at twenty. The same goes for him. I appreciate my spouse. I have no problem being a humble wife and laying down a desire to always be right. I wasn’t always this way. He has grown in leaps and bounds also. I sometimes wonder, would we be as happy as we are now if things had gone differently? Would our life be just as amazing had we married at age twenty? Would I realize how wonderful, selfless, and truly loving my man is, or would I take him for granted? I don’t know. What I do know is that God’s timing is always perfect, His promises are always true, and His will extends beyond anything I could make happen. His way brings true, lasting happiness. I didn’t always realize this was so true.

I wish I could say I acted super spiritual when God took my husband from me. I wish I could tell you I got down on my knees and prayed, “thank you, Jesus, that your plans for me are so good. I completely trust you will bring him back to me better than before and bless our future together exponentially!”

I can’t tell you that because I did the exact opposite. I acted like any teenager would. I stormed off and slammed the door in my Father’s face. Sigh. I’m glad He didn’t let it go at that.

Despite our ability to follow God’s plan perfectly, He still lays the foundation. Despite our ability to trust, He is still faithful. Despite our ability to surrender, He still gives abundantly. I mean, doing it His way with a smile and knowing nod the first time would always be better, but seriously, how many of us have ears to hear?! The wonderful thing is that even when our faith flounders, He still loves us. He still blesses us. He takes, but then He gives back even more. I am blessed today because of yesterday, and now I try to always see my life with that mindset. If something falls apart, I anticipate how my Father will piece it back together, better than it ever was before.

In Marriage You Have a Choice

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In marriage you have a choice. You can see truth, or you can see lies. You can focus on self, or you can focus on another. You can choose to forgive, or you can choose to let your anger simmer and grow to a rolling boil. You have the choice to take offense, or to take a minute. You have the choice to see the good or to see the bad. Well, actually you can see both, but you choose which one to focus all your attention. You have the choice. Marriage is prochoice, I guess you could say, for men and women. You can choose to stay, or you can choose to go. You can choose to work on it, or you can choose to wave the white flag of defeat. You can choose forever, or you can choose forever if; forever if everything goes well. In marriage you have a choice.

My husband wears his feelings on his sleeves. I’m not saying he’s some blubbering crier or anything like that. I’m just saying that if he’s happy you know it, and if he’s not, you know that too. He doesn’t hide his emotions like some men do, or perhaps it’s just that he doesn’t hide them well. He isn’t always the epitome of openness, but I can read him like a book.

“What wrong,” I asked my sullen spouse.

“Nothing,” he quipped quickly, without making eye contact.

I sighed. I hated it when he was like this! Ugh. It drove me crazy.

His silence reigned. He looked on expressionless at the highway while he drove. Sheets of dreary water dripped down the windows, and the gray sky seemed to mirror his mood. Normally quite the conversationalist, in this particular state he could barely answer a simple question. Any comment sent his way would be likely answered by a single grunt, similar to how I imagined a caveman replying to his cavewife when she refused to be carried away by his club upon her head or swoon at his masculine, mastodon hunting skills.

I considered my options. I could try to draw him out. I had already asked what was wrong. He had replied nothing. I knew something was bothering him. He knew I knew. He didn’t want to talk about it.

I sighed loudly.

He pretended not to hear my exasperation.

Silence continued.

I could always stop talking, I thought. Yes, that might work. I could quit trying to joke with him. I could stop asking if there was anything I could do. I could just sit there beside him and not say a single solitary word.

We’ll see how he likes it?! Ha.

I mean, yeah, I knew I had a tendency to overthink things. It could be nothing. Nothing could be bothering him. It could have nothing to do with me. He might just have a headache. But even if he was having a bad day, wasn’t that allowed?

I pondered on my own idiosyncrasies. I thought of my occasional, hormonal outbursts, or how my mood could turn on a dime. I had a knack for worrying, and while I had certainly loosened the reigns of my control-freak persona, I still pulled out the crazy lady on occasion. I had bad days too. I had good days. But wasn’t that what life was? And wasn’t marriage the union of each other’s good and bad days, taking them as they came? Celebrating when it was warranted, but also mourning when it was due?

I had made my monastery vow of silence for maybe five or ten minutes, more likely eight, when I decided that was a dumb idea. I had a choice at that moment. I could fight fire with fire, or I could be an adult. I could stay angry, even though I knew not the details of my out-of-proportion wrath, or I could release my frustration. I could feed my offense, or I could offer grace. I could focus strictly on how the situation was affecting me, or I could look at my spouse and how I might give him grace. I could ignore my own faults, focusing intently on his, or I could realistically remember we all have them. I could take an inch, or I could give a mile. I could love unconditionally. Yes, that sounded nice.

I could realize that life wasn’t just about me. How was this situation bothering me? No. Perhaps consider how it was bothering him. Focus on why he wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, or pray for him a solution? Stew in anger, or rest in love? I could remember he was human, like me, yet love him like Jesus did. Yes, that seemed like the right thing.

I reached out my hand and I took his. I didn’t say anything, and neither did he. I squeezed his hand anyway. I made a choice.

The moment passed, conversation picked back up, the storm cloud moved on by, the sun began to shine again, and laughter filled the air.

I never knew the cause of his quiet, the reason behind his silence. I don’t think you always need to. That would make it about me, make it about my desire to know. He was who he was, how he was, and so was I. There was so much good in him, it certainly overshadowed the occasional bad. I loved every part; that was my calling as his wife. I had chosen to commit my life to loving all the pieces, and each day I chose to keep on doing that. Even the most happy marriages aren’t perfect, but we can choose to love beyond that.

We can choose to take offense at every turn, or we can model grace. We can take a splinter of anger and build it into a fence, or we can sweep insignificant sawdust away from our heart. We can remove the plank of offense from our own eye, and we can utilize it better as a bridge to bind us. We can love our spouse like Christ loves the church (which is us, by the way). Satan desires nothing better than to stir marital discord. It’s his voice that whispers in the cracks of a silly argument, building self-righteous anger when it’s not necessary. The devil will show you the faults of your spouse. The Holy Spirit will show you your own. We have the choice of who we will listen to the most.

You have a choice in marriage. You can choose to build fences, or you can choose to build a bridge. You can choose to make yourself the centerpiece of the relationship, or you can choose for Christ to rest there. You can choose to pick apart every action of your spouse, or you can help them pick up the pieces. You can choose to hold a grudge, placing a wedge between you, or you can choose to forgive. When you get married you make the choice to love your spouse, but each day thereafter you must choose the same. Marriage is a daily choice of saying “I do.”

I do promise to love you. I do promise to see your efforts, to hold you when you are weak, to value you above myself, to love you when it’s not easy. I do.

In life you have a choice, and in marriage you have a choice each day. The only question is, what will you choose?

How Do You Measure Success?

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When I was a young woman I longed to finish college so I could finally obtain a high paying job that could give me financial security. As a college student I waited tables to make ends meet, but they hardly ever came together. I scraped by, counting change for gas, begging the phone company to give me another week and not turn my landline off. The difficulties of working full-time while attending college full-time are what eventually convinced me to join the military. They offered a dependable income, free housing, and a chance to travel. Sounded good to me. I can still remember gazing at martini stir sticks with glass fish at the top in a Pier One magazine, and thinking that once I got settled into the military I could afford finer things. Yep, I gazed at grownup bobbles yearning to possess them. It was how I measured success.

To not scrimp and save, yet never get ahead.

To own a home! A two-story, white colonial with navy blue shutters.

That was the measure of success.

Designer clothing. To be able to shop upscale, not WalMart clearance rack.

I wanted a car that was dependable, one I didn’t constantly worry about breaking down.

That was the measure of success.

A saving’s account that I never had to dip into.

Taking two week vacations where you got on an airplane and flew somewhere exotic. Not the back of your parent’s stale minivan for eight hours.

That was the measure of success.

You hear people brag about their children getting into Harvard.

Mothers brag about their son’s promotion. He’ll have to travel more for work now, but they can also get the bigger house.

This is a measure of success.

Career advancement, more pay, a bigger home.

Monogrammed dresses for the daughters. Shiny, new toys for the boys.

This is a measure of success.

Winters at Disney. Summers in the mountains.

Good grades, awards at the end of the year banquet.

A perfectly manicured lawn to match perfectly manicured nails.

This is a measure of success.

I’m not sure when the shift began in me. Somewhere along the way the two story house didn’t make me as happy as I thought it would.

My husband’s promotion only meant he was never home.

All the monogrammed ruffles filled the never ending pile of laundry.

Dust collected quickly on the never-used, glass martini sticks. Still can’t believe I bought them. I don’t like martinis.

Vacations ended too quickly. Time never seemed to be enough. As I cried out “hurry” I glimpsed the strained looks on my daughters’ faces. At some point I realized their happy smiles were my true measuring stick.

Success came in musical laughter or a relaxing evening on the couch with my husband. It came not in the size of our saving’s account, but in the size of our bank of happy memories. True happiness was found in filling that bank, and measuring success by any other avenue seemed like a passing folly.

The big house would fall down, the money would be spent, the clothes outgrown, and the babbles easily broken. Why measure success in things that tarnish?

Somewhere along the way I realized it was my middle child’s loving heart that made me proud. She couldn’t pronounce the letter “L,” but she could brighter a stranger’s day with her smile.

At some point I let go of what everyone else thought of me, or how they measured my success. I no longer cared to impress The Joneses, to put on false airs, pose with my good side, or do what looked good over what felt good.

Success wasn’t measured by outward appearances. It was measured by the inside and what poured out.

I began to realize that success was measured by a happy marriage, smiling children, and a thriving family unit.

Success was measured by watching my husband help a stranger, or by an elderly neighbor bragging on my daughters’ kindness.

Success was measured by the photos I looked at later after a really fun day, or by my eldest daughter exclaiming, “this was the best day ever!”

My greatest success was felt when my child thought to pray for answers first, rather than fretting about her problem.

I measured success by listening to my middle child stop us all from eating and proclaim, “let’s not forget to say grace.”

I measured success by watching my children grow closer to Jesus, or by my own victory over anxiety and fear.

I now measured success by my ability to let go of all the things I once thought I must obtain to make me happy, and by being able to rest content in the joy of the life God had for me all along.

Now I measured success in goodnight kisses and bedtime prayers with my girls. I measured it by the adoring look my spouse gave me at the end of the day, and by the feeling of tremendous love I felt for him when I looked back into his deep brown eyes.

I finally realized that success shouldn’t be measured by what we do for a living as much as how we treat people. It shouldn’t be measured by how many possessions we have, but rather by how many hands we hold. It shouldn’t be measured by what all we have, but rather by what we give away. It shouldn’t be measured in dollar signs; it should be measured in friends. It shouldn’t be measured by our achievements, but instead be measured in how we love.

So, how do we measure success each day? Is it measured by getting to work on time, or is it measured by the patience you gave on the way there? Is it measured by performance, or is it measured by lives touched along the way? Is it measured by bank balances or smiles from our children? Is it measured by fancy cars or musical laughter? Big homes or happy spouses? I’m not saying you can’t have both. You can. But never forfeit one for the other. And never forget that true happiness is the best gauge of all. True joy is measured by having nothing, yet still feeling like you have it all.

So, I suppose I now measure success in units of joy. The joy I’m getting, but also the joy I’m giving away. All the rest is just extra credit.

You Need to Find a Man That Makes You Crazy

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You need to find a man that makes you crazy. And vice versa.

I smiled as I read the text that came in on my phone. My heart fluttered a bit, to be honest. I always liked the fact that it still did that.

I texted him first, you see. I had spent the past four days off with my spouse, and by ten in the morning, as I spent the day at work, I realized I was missing him. So I reached for my phone, and I sent a simple yet honest message.

I love you so much!!

I could immediately see the bubble of response coming my way.

I love you too!!

And then another text followed.

When I was young love usually gave me butterflies. It made me tingle, and sometimes I even felt as if I could fly. A captivating romance would ensue for a full three months before the butterflies turned to slugs and my propeller stopped spinning. Crash and burn. I guess I wasn’t really flying; I was just gliding on good feelings.

Feelings. They’re important for sure, but sometimes emotion-driven romance can fizzle easy. It burns with passion, but then it doesn’t. A love built on physical attraction will fade as fast as beauty, but a crazy love, well, that’s different.

My husband thought it was crazy.

I’m so happy when I’m with you! It’s crazy!

I smiled at his words because I knew exactly what he meant. After four wonderful days together, I could totally relate. Infatuation grew boring, but love that held fast as the years zipped by, it was crazy.

When I first reunited with my husband (before we became husband and wife), I just thought I knew what crazy was. I mean, it felt crazy amazing when we first kissed. It was one of those sultry smooches that you feel like a lightening bolt, all electric, even down to your toes. At that moment, sitting in my parents driveway, thirty years old, but feeling like a teenager, I melted. I seriously melted. It was crazy! Or so I thought.

I guess the really crazy part came later. It came after the proposal, which I must just stop here and say, was crazy amazing. Or so I thought. It even came after the wedding. Which, subsequently, was also crazy like a dream come true. I mean, my face hurt afterwards from smiling so much at my man in a tux. But I just thought I knew crazy. The crazy came after the honeymoon. After the first pregnancy announcement. The crazy came in secrets uncovered, addictions brought to light, problems of the past raised again, and all the tears that followed. But that wasn’t the crazy part. The crazy part actually came with the healing.

When you can love someone past their flaws, despite your own, and draw closer, it’s crazy.

When you can love someone more than your own wants and desires, it’s crazy.

It’s crazy because you serve out of love, not obligation.

It’s crazy because you forgive since you were forgiven.

When you can love someone despite the ups and downs of life, it’s crazy.

When you can build a love that caresses in infatuation yet desires more than flesh, it’s crazy.

When you can invest in a love that thrives on passion, but sees beyond skin deep, it’s crazy.

One definition in Webster for crazy is described as “extremely enthusiastic,” and if you can build a love like that on dirty diapers, late nights with a newborn, and a pile of bills, that’s crazy.

It’s crazy because you’ve built a relationship centered on Jesus, not circumstance. The circumstances of life have lush hills, but also dry valleys. When you can love through a drought, it’s crazy.

It’s crazy because each day is better than the last. Regular, ole TV love will fizzle out, it will dwindle down as the years pass, the flesh sags, and the confidence falters. But crazy love? Oh, crazy love is like a fine wine. It gets better with age.

Each day I love my husband more. Just when I think I will explode if I felt any more affection for him, my heart surprises me, and I love him more this moment than the one before. That’s crazy.

It’s crazy because it’s a love that doesn’t grow fatigued when things seem the same. It always finds new joy in each step of life together.

It’s crazy because it’s not selfish. Everything in life is selfish, right? But crazy love looks at the other person’s needs. It’s not being used, it’s being useful. It’s holding another person in such high esteem that you put their needs before your own. There’s too much worry in today’s world that says we must look out for ourselves first, and make sure we are appreciated. But in all the focusing on self we become blind to the person beside us. No wonder marriages are failing. We’ve forgotten how to love selflessly, how to love our spouse like Christ loves the church.

People thought Jesus was pretty crazy too. He came to serve mankind. He came to forgive. He came to show the love of the Father. And it’s crazy!

When you can love despite trial, love despite change, and love in a way that is greater than yourself, it grows into a beautiful thing. Christ-centered, selfless, and overflowing in love. Each day can be better than the last, the kisses can still be electric, the spark can still ignite. You can find your greatest joy in time together, and your most fulfillment in making the other person happy. It’s crazy, but you can see beyond your needs, and instead tend to the needs of your spouse. You’ll find they reciprocate your actions.

You can be enthusiastically excited about your marriage, like it’s the first time, but with the longevity of a lifetime love affair.

When I Told My Husband I Hated Him, and He Didn’t Even Care!

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I used a very strong word yesterday when I was talking to my husband concerning how I felt about him. I think we try to water down our words sometimes, especially nowadays, because of concerns over not sparing feelings, but I have always tried to be honest with my spouse of nearly a decade. So I used strong words. I told him I hated him. And you know what? It didn’t even bother him one bit.

“I’m glad we’re in a place where we feel the same, understand things the same,” I told my husband, “where I can say that and it doesn’t offend you.”

I believe one of the main problems with marriage, or with any relationship for that matter, is the extravagant value we place on it. And not just the value, but the responsibility. I mean, in all reality it’s totally unfair to place such lofty expectations, such power on another human being. Love is the most wonderful thing in life, but in itself it cannot save you. Love doesn’t change people. Not human love anyway.

My spouse and I had been driving down the road together when I told him that I not only hated him, but also the children. Really, though, it didn’t come out as harsh as it sounds. In fact, it was in love that I spoke such a detachment.

I believe that all of mankind is built with a hole in their heart. Not the kind that requires surgical intervention, but the kind you cannot see. It’s the kind that can only be filled with love and acceptance. The kind that holds you dear no matter your faults or how difficult you may be to deal with.

It’s the kind of longing for love that hurts when a daddy leaves his daughter.

It’s the kind of need for love that makes a young woman seek her worth in the arms of a man.

She ruins relationships with her talons, digging deeper into the flesh of man.

Love me, hold me, make me feel worthwhile.

Don’t leave me.

Tell me that I am beautiful.

When I make mistakes, when I lie, when I drink too much, when I cry for no reason at all…

Love me anyway.

When I make stupid decisions, when I pull away from you, when I text you too much. When I don’t text at all…

Love me anyway.

When I cheat, when I want to cuddle too much, when I cry and beg you not to leave me.

Love me anyway.

In all my faults, with all my clinginess, with all my neediness, with all my unintentional meanness.

Love me anyway.

Don’t you dare die on me! Don’t get sick, or old. Why can’t what we have last forever?

Why does it all have to end? Why can’t your love sustain me, complete me, or take away my pain? I mean, your love is wonderful, it’s amazing, but late at night I still feel alone.

The hole is still there.

It’s the human condition.

My husband and I had been discussing the words of Jesus.

Luke 14:26

If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters–yes, even their own life–such a person cannot be my disciple.

I didn’t hate my husband in the sense that most of us think of when we hear the harsh world. I mean, I loved him more than the air I breathed. But he was not my reason for existence. He was my gift, my partner in life, but he could never completely fill the hole in my heart. Only Jesus could do that.

When Christ spoke of hating our family and friends, He meant to hate the worldly attachment. He meant to hate that part of ourselves that wants to place our worth on what others think of us. He meant to hate that part of us that believes we need them to survive, to continue, to keep on living. Again, only Jesus brings eternal life. And it’s that hope of eternal life that keeps us going when illness, pain, and even death come into our perfect little lives.

It’s hard to get to a place where you decide to hate the love of your life, but it’s the only thing that makes the relationship the most that it can be. After all, I can’t put the weight of my emotional well-being on my husband. That’s not fair. I can’t expect him to never hurt my feelings. He will. He has. I can’t put him higher than God, even as much as I adore my dear husband; it’s just not fair to place the title of savior on my spouse. He’s my helpmate, but not my living water. And therefore I hate any worldly, mistaken attachment that would tell me any different. That would be a lie. The devil tells women they can’t live without their man! God would say, “worry not, my child. I hold you both in the palm of my hand.”

And so it goes with my children, my family, my coworkers, my friends. I hate them all. So it goes with my job, my roles in life, the titles I obtain in this world. I count them all meaningless compared to my adoption into God’s family. I am a daughter of the King! The rest, it comes second place.

Perhaps this sounds terrible to you, but it’s actually a decision of love. I’m allowing the people who love me to not bear the burden of fixing my broken heart. Even the people who have hurt me can be forgiven. The father who left me, the boy who cheated on me, the husband who divorced me. They don’t have to carry the weight of my hurt. They don’t have to heal me. Jesus does.

Christ calls us to love! It’s a commandment. And boy, do I love my husband! I love him big time! But the greatest commandment is to love the Lord my God with all my heart. So if my love for my husband or my children tried to overshadow my love for the Lord, that couldn’t work. It would only make the people I clung desperately to feel inadequate. My desire for them to fill me would only hurt them, hurt me. I would resent them. They would resent me too. We might not realize that was the reason. We’d blame it on something else, but deep down it would be the fact that they couldn’t save me, fix me, change me, heal me, or fill me. And I couldn’t do that for them either. Only Jesus.

So, I hate anything I hold dear that tries to lie to me and tell me otherwise. Do I hate the people, per se? Of course not! We’re called to love, and my husband makes it pretty darn easy to love him. But I will hate all day long any lie from Satan that whispers to me that my relationships, accomplishments, or roles in life are what make me who I am, that those things fill the hole in my heart.

After all, only Jesus can do that.

I Realized That My Husband Has Been Lying to Me

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Everything is supposed to be great and grand in sunny Florida, right? I mean, that’s what I’ve always thought. I have wonderful memories from childhood of vacationing at the beach with my family. So when the opportunity came up last Spring to travel as a nurse to Florida to live and work, I jumped at the chance. I still remember my husband’s face when I mentioned working in Central Florida.

“It wouldn’t be my first choice,” he had said with a grimace.

And I knew why. My husband was a mountain man! I’m not just saying that because of the scruffy beard and big, brown boots either. I mean that he loves the climate. His favorite season is fall, he’s a huge fan of snow, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard him complain about the cold. But complaining about the heat? Well, that’s a different story.

Yep, my husband isn’t a huge fan of hot weather, hence his reaction last year to my beach dreams.

“Let’s just put in for all of these,” he suggested, concerning the list of travel nurse, job locations we saw as options, “and we’ll go with whoever offers you a job first.”

I was secretly hoping for the Florida job.

I imagine my husband was not.

Well, you guessed it. My first interview last year came from a hospital in Central Florida, outside of Orlando, and off we went as a family to new and warmer scenery.

It really wasn’t that bad, not like I had imagined. I mean, other than the occasional huffyness over marching through Disney World in July, my husband didn’t complain much about the sweltering heat. In fact, we didn’t argue or disagree about the temperature much at all!

You’ve all heard the famous argument. One spouse is cold-natured, the other is hot-natured, and the thermostat is the wedge between them. Adjusting the thermostat is fighting words for many temperature-opposite couples, and my husband and I were as different as night and day. He could sunbathe in the nude on a blanket of snow, and I could submerge myself in a pool of hot lava without missing a beat. With the expanse of climate disagreement between us, I was pleasantly surprised at how my husband had changed. I had always heard that couples became more alike the longer they lived together, and as we made our way through our first Summer in Orlando last year, I decided that was true of us. He had adjusted to my climate, and I was always comfortable in our home. We had a great AC unit, but unlike how it was growing up as a kid, I didn’t feel like I was constantly freezing. I had worried my husband might turn me into an ice cube with the AC in such a warmer area, but he had not. We had kept an amicable and lovely setting on the thermostat the entire assignment.

Well, when I had the opportunity to return to my Orlando hospital, I jumped at the chance. Hot days and sunshine galore! Wee!! I had seen enough of winter, even in the calmer climate of South Carolina, and was eager to return to the heat. Of course, my acclimated husband smiled agreeably for our return, and off again we went to sunny Florida.

It’s started to heat up lately, here in Central Florida, and I’m loving every bit of it. I don’t have to be cold anymore! So imagine my surprise when I got home from work last night and walked into an igloo. Immediately my arms broke out into goosebumps, and icicles started to form from my cold, red nose.

“Why y’all got it like an icebox in here?!” I asked my husband, in between chattering breathes of white smoke (I might be exaggerating, mildly).

And that’s when he surprised me.

“Sorry, babe,” he commented as he stirred the supper he had made. “Time caught up with me today. I didn’t realize it was so late. I always have the thermostat turned down. I turn it back up about an hour before you get home.”

He had not acclimated. He didn’t handle the heat any better than he had before. He still hated it. He still loved to sit around inside Antarctica in short sleeves. He still thought 68 was the perfect thermostat setting. Compared to my desired 74-78. He had not changed like I thought.

And you know what else hadn’t changed? His love for me. That selfless love that was compromising on the little things. It was the kind of love that made Mountain men head off to the beach instead. It made an Eskimo go lay out by the pool with his wife, albeit in the shade, for him. He had not suddenly started to love the hot sun like me or even accept an indoor lukewarm temperature like me, but he had decided to give that extra mile that he wasn’t required to give. He gave it for me. He let go of his ultimate desires in favor of mine because he cared about what I enjoyed. The craziest part, to me, was that he had not felt it necessary to brag about his concessions. I mean, he hadn’t exactly lied about loving the warmer temps, but he also hadn’t seen necessary to parade his sacrifice.

He hadn’t mentioned that he sat around in his boxers with the AC blowing ice shards on his bare skin, grinning ear to ear, while I wore long sleeves and a hoodie to work. Instead, he simply smiled, kissed me a welcome home into our 73 degree Oasis of Love, and sat beside me on the couch while I cuddled under a thick blanket. Come to think of it, was that sweat I had seen all month building on his brow?

So what did I do when I realized my hubby’s secret?

Thank you for turning up the thermostat for me!

That’s what the note had read that I left beside the coffee maker before I left for work. I wanted him to know that I saw and appreciated all the small sacrifices for what they were. Love made concrete, shown in everyday actions that you could miss in a busy life if you weren’t careful. I never wanted to move so fast that I couldn’t see his love displayed.

He never took me for granted, and he never missed the chance to tell me how proud and thankful he was to be my spouse. I didn’t ever want to miss the opportunity either. It seems to me that the key to a happy marriage is taking your eyes off yourself. Everyone seems so worried about their contribution to the marriage, wondering in exasperation to their friends, family, and coworkers if their partner realized all the things they sacrifice, but all the focus on self makes you blind to everything else. When you can serve your spouse in love it will open your eyes more readily to the ways they serve you in return. Some times it is big things, and other times they’re small. But they are all gifts given in love that cultivate a happy life together. Even the surrender of the thermostat war.