Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

3 Keys to a Happier Marriage

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I’m always going to call myself a work in progress. I’m far from perfect, but wiser in my walk than I was before. I consider each day to be a new day to learn something new, about myself, about interacting with others, and about strengthening my marriage. My marriage isn’t perfect either, but I have been able to watch it mature into something lovely over the years. It didn’t start out on solid ground, that I can promise you. If it were not for the prompting of the Holy Spirit, it might have crumbled in that newlywed period a decade ago, but through perseverance, prayer, and the knowledge of the Lord, we have cultivated a beautiful covenant that becomes better each and everyday. Here’s a few tips I have found to be so very true in having a happy, healthy relationship.

1. Lower your expectations. In fact, go ahead and drop them all together. Whatever dream person you have created in your head, let them go. This is reality, people. Open your eyes and fix them on Jesus. He’s the only perfect one you’ll ever find.

I discovered pretty early on that my husband and I shared more differences than similarities. Where I was a perfectionist, he was content with getting by. Where I was a planner, he was a procrastinator. Where I was motivated, he was blasé. Where I completed a task once I got started, he was fine with letting it fall away. It was exasperating.

But then I discovered something more. Where I often held unrealistic expectations for life, he was more able to go with the flow that is the reality of a tumultuous world. Where I had to have my ducks in a row, he was more open to change and going off course to achieve the same goal. Where I was overly dedicated to a task of my own making, he was open to the plans God put before us. Where I became almost obsessed with seeing a project to completion, he was more able to open his hands in surrender to allow Jesus to take it away.

I like to take pictures. He doesn’t. Lol.

I discovered we were a pretty good team. It was like it was a God-ordained union, something I had always known, but didn’t realize the details of until it was before me. You see, a huge cause of discontent in marriage is failed expectations. We have a certain idea in mind of how our spouse must be. When they inevitably fail to meet those expectations we become angry and disillusioned. We seldom stop and understand that they were made a specific way by God, and that if we believe God to be the director of our lives, then we must trust that He put two distinctive personalities together for a reason, for a purpose. Remember, the plans of man always fail; it’s God who directs our steps.

So, drop who you think your spouse should be, celebrate who they are, and most importantly, pray that they will become who God has them to be (not who you have them to be).

2. Remove your plank. I know I’m stepping on some toes now. Another big cause of marital strife comes in the form of our own judgement and self-centeredness. This is a hard pill to swallow, but truth usually is. The problem with the human condition is sin, imperfection, and blindness. No, I don’t mean physical blindness, but rather a spiritual one. Our expectations for ourselves are never as high as the expectations we place on others. Because only God knows our every thought and desire, only He can always do what’s right by us. Only He will never hurt us. Now understand, our sin may hurt us, and God may allow that, but He will never hurt us. If you’ve been around people for longer than five minutes then you know that’s not true of us.

In marriage (and all relationships for that matter), you will get your feelings hurt. The person won’t say the right thing, do the right thing, or always act in the right manner. You will be left hurt, wounded, and let down, which typically leads to anger. After all, it’s easier to get mad than stew in hurt feelings.

“He never helps me!”

“She never wants to have sex anymore.”

“Does he ever hear a word I say?!”

“Why does she keep nagging me?!”

“What’s her problem?”

“What did I do this time?!”

A relationship can become a blame game, pointing fingers and keeping score. Who’s done more for the marriage? Who says I’m sorry first? How long until they disappoint me again? I’ll enlist the silent treatment; let’s see who breaks the silence and speaks first.

“I wonder how long he’ll leave his dirty laundry at the foot of the bed?”

“I wonder how long she’ll leave that curling iron on the sink?”

“I work all day at my job!”

“I work all day at this house, with the children!”

It becomes a competition of who does more, who does less, and who can see the contribution you’re putting out there. We become so blinded by what we’re giving out that we miss what our partner is supplying. We become so focused on where we’re taken advantage of that we totally miss our own selfish attitude.

Who’s the most selfish person in the relationship?

It’s the one who’s breathing. It’s him, it’s her, it’s you, it’s me. We’re all selfish. That’s the easy part of marriage. The hard part is moving past selfishness and working towards servanthood. Serve your spouse; don’t spend your time wondering how they can serve you.

Before you become angry, fed up, or burned out with your partner, consider how you might better improve yourself. What can you do to cultivate the relationship? What plank exists in your own eye while you’re distracted with the sawdust they left on the floor?

From personal experience, you get back what you put in. Your reward is dependent on how you run the race. Your harvest is based on what you’re planting and feeding into the soil. Just like your banking account, the deposits have to exceed the withdrawals, otherwise you’re bankrupt. Invest to see a future profit.

3. Learn what love is. A majority of marriages that end in divorce are because of a lack of love. They start with what they think is love, but it’s not. A lot of the time what we assume is love is really addiction. Hang with me, now.

We are addicted to feeling good. We need to feel appreciated, taken care of, desired, found attractive. We thrive on compliments, we feel best when we are needed. It gives us a sense of purpose to take care of someone, and it gives us a sense of peace to have someone take care of us. And while yes, I believe God created marriage with a partnership in mind, we confuse love with performance. We convolute love with just emotion. So when we are hurt, our love takes a hit. We base our ability to love someone on how they love us back. We base our continued love for someone on how it feels at the moment. We take back love when ours isn’t reciprocated.

If you find yourself doing any of the above in your own relationship, don’t beat yourself up too bad. You’re in good company. It’s called being human. We eat food based on what tastes good. And we stay committed to someone based on the continued performance of our spouse. We’re basically grading our marriage, and we are using a pass or fail sliding scale.

I love ice cream because it’s delicious. Especially chocolate chip! I love my husband, but he isn’t always pleasing to my palate. Sometimes he’s downright bitter.

If we desire a happier marriage we have to enlist a bit of Christ-like behavior. We have to try and love more like Jesus does. We have to understand and discover that real, unbreakable love isn’t based on what we can get out of it. Real, unconditional love is the kind that dies for you even when you hate it. It’s the kind that forgives you even when you are the weapon of that death. It’s the kind of love that loves the unlovable, that loves even when it gets nothing in return.

I’m not asking you to be crucified like a martyr for your marriage, but I do think you’ll grasp a taste of the divine when you can try and sample what He placed before us as an example of love. We are the bride of Christ, and the love He’s laying down, can’t nobody model, but it comes back to that thing I mentioned in the first paragraph. Work in progress. We’re all working towards that perfection we can achieve through Him. Does that mean a perfect marriage? No. But it does mean a happier, healthier one if we can try a little harder to understand that real love He modeled.

When you walk in that kind of love for your spouse, you love them even when they say something thoughtless. You forgive them when they fail you. You love them when you’re not feeling like it, and you love them even when they have nothing to give in return. That is love.

We love Christ because He first loved us (1 John 4:19), and true, long-standing love is achieved through giving of yourself without expectation of what you’ll get in return.

We can’t place too much expectation on our marriage. The only perfect marriage is between Jesus and the Church. To love your spouse is to mean that even when they don’t meet that high expectation, we still love. We love like Christ, because He first loved us. I found that by modeling that kind of love towards my husband, he in turn loved me the same.

My husband and I only expect perfection in Jesus, and our true joy and contentment cannot be found in one another. They can only be found in Him. We have found happiness in remembering that on a day-to-day basis. We model His love to one another, but we also understand that kind of love can only truly be found in Him.

God Doesn’t Expect Our Perfection

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I woke up this morning with conflict on my mind. I hated that! The thing was I had gone to sleep with the same worries plaguing me. Before I drifted to sleep I read the Bible, desiring to fill my mind with truth, yet I still woke with it in my head. Ugh.

I hate conflict. I think my husband is the luckiest guy on the planet because he rarely has to face a fight with me. Arguments make me uncomfortable, and raised voices make me shake. When I come across a disagreement with someone I am quick to back down, apologize, make amends, whatever needed to save the relationship. And I think that’s a good thing overall. It means I value people over always being right. In my line of work as a nurse there are a lot of times I’m right, but I will let it go. I try to place myself in the other person’s shoes, and I do this with everyone. My preference is to avoid conflict altogether, but eventually it occurs despite my best intentions.

It was such an interaction that kept coming up in my mind as I stood in the shower. I don’t know why my brain does this, but I will replay a negative interaction over and over. I’ll think of things I didn’t say, things I should have said, and of course question anything I did say or do. I will mentally beat myself up over something like this, and that’s what I found myself doing this morning.

As I stood before the mirror mentally trying to push the situation that was over and done with to the over and done with bin of my brain, I prayed, and at that moment I felt very strongly that I should speak to this matter out loud. It seemed kind of crazy to me, but I knew its merit also. After all, when anxiety or senseless worry continues to assault your mind, where do you suppose these thoughts come from? They certainly aren’t from God. Conviction of where you might be wrong is one thing, but incessant agonizing is not. Fretting isn’t from a friend, and panic isn’t for our pleasure. One thing I knew; God did not want me feeling this way, making mountains out of molehills.

They say there’s power in the name of Jesus, and believing that to be so I spoke His name out loud.

“These thoughts that are harassing me aren’t welcome,” I said. “You have to leave in Jesus name.”

Y’all, if my mirror turned into a burning bush I wouldn’t have been surprised, because divine intervention happened in that room. It wasn’t like it took a while, either. It wasn’t later in the day or even thirty minutes after. Within moments I felt better. The anxious thoughts had drifted away. They no longer banged persistently at my door. They left.

As I sat on my bed getting ready I finally thought about other things, and as my mind wandered towards a parent’s class at my church I thought of some good advice for moms and the unrealistic expectations we place on our parenting skills.

God doesn’t expect our perfection. So why do we?

It was like a lightening bolt word of wisdom that I suddenly realized could be used in my day to day life and interactions with others. A lot of my worry when conflict occurred was if I handled it properly, or if I was a good example of Christ. On times like the most recent object of my obsession and personal conflict I knew I had a tendency to beat myself up over how I could have handled things better. But God didn’t expect my perfection. So why did I?

I was reminded that I won’t be perfect in every single interaction I have with others. Let’s be honest; some people are really difficult to handle. But the point is I’m trying. I strive each day to be a better me than yesterday, but when I fall I can be reminded of God’s bountiful grace. I can remember that in my weaknesses I find strength in Him. I guess that’s a reminder we all need from time to time.

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.

My Husband is a Stay-at-Home Dad, and I Don’t Care What You Think About It

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I am a part of some different Facebook groups, and last week I got a little ruffled over some comments on a thread I was following. Well, ruffled is probably too strong of a word. I’d say I felt defensive for a moment. Why? Because I took it personally. I took personal offense for the love of my life. Wait, I guess I better explain, put it into context for you.

You see, I’m a travel nurse. And I travel in an RV with my family. So I’m a part of several travel nurse, RV, family RV travel, and RV travel nurse groups. Now, if I’ve learned anything in life it’s that the opinion of others isn’t worth my heartache. In other words, not all people will agree with me, and that’s ok. Their opinion doesn’t make me or break me, but I guess it’s a little different when the jab is towards my best friend.

I was scrolling through my feed when I came across a travel nurse asking if any other nurses traveled with their spouse, and wanted to know how their spouse spent their time. There were a lot of answers like mine. Answers of, “my spouse stays home.” And not just housewives either. There were a lot of househusbands. As you would imagine, it didn’t take long for someone to state their opinion about a man not working, and a woman being the primary breadwinner.

A woman commented, “I can’t get over all these deadbeat dudes, and you ladies supporting them. No way I’d put up with that sh*t.”

My heart rate rose as I read the comment. She didn’t know my spouse! She didn’t know he had run his own business for years, working thirteen hour days, six days a week. She didn’t know the stress of all those years, how hard he had worked to support his growing family. I had to tell her these things. I had to defend his honor!

You know, that’s the thing about people who aren’t you. They don’t know you, and they don’t know the specifics of your situation. They don’t know the roads you have walked, or even how hard it was to get there. That’s why you have to just let it slip right on by you. Because they don’t know and probably never will. Most people are so fixed on their own opinion that even if you set them straight, they wouldn’t hear you. You have to decide that you don’t care what they think. Too often we value the opinion of others, and it’s the same people who wouldn’t give you a glass of water if you were on fire. It’s the people pointing out the sawdust in your eye when they have a plank in their own. It’s the people who have been wounded, and their opinions and beliefs are often convoluted by their own negative, past experiences. Maybe this lady had been married to a deadbeat once upon a time. It didn’t matter, though.

I didn’t need to say a word to defend my man’s honor. After all, I knew he was amazing. I knew his heart. I knew he homeschooled our children while I worked. I knew he did all the housework, cooking, laundry, vehicle/RV maintenance, and outside work. I knew I didn’t lift a finger when I was home because he had done it all already. I knew what he did was hard work. I was a stay-at-home mom for six or seven years, and I knew there wasn’t a fatigue that compared to child-raising. It’s the kind that made you want to run away or hide in a closet and cry.

I knew my stay-at-home husband worked hard. He worked hard at everything he did for us, whether in the home or out of the home. And I guess, at the end of the day, I was the only one who needed to know that. The opinionated commenter on Facebook had her own opinions of men she had never met, and I’m sure a lot of acquaintances (or even family) I know have their own opinions of my life too. But you know what?

I don’t care what you think. I just don’t have time for that. I’m too busy enjoying quality time with my family.

We live in a strange world. On one hand we have women everywhere marching for equal rights, but those same women will shun a man who stays home in what has traditionally been a female role. We have women who want to hold tight to traditional and Biblical roles of the man being the provider, but these same women have no qualms about usurping their husband’s authority, domineering the relationship, or ridiculing his opinions for the family unit. We have men and women who lament about not getting enough time together, but these same couples work overtime. We have men and women who want to homeschool or not put their babies in daycare, but these same people can’t find a way to cut the budget to make a one income family unit a reality. I’ve heard so many people say that nowadays it takes both parents working, and I guess that’s true if we consider a huge home, multiple cars, or namebrand clothing a must. Yes, everyone has to work to take a Disney vacation every year. Am I stepping on your toes?

A lot of people may think a man is lazy who stays at home, but I would say he’s loving. He loves his children, and he loves his wife enough to lay down macho stereotypes, worries about his friends or family’s opinion, and his own ego to be labeled a stay-at-home father. It’s not easy being a stay-at-home dad. You fight stereotypes and stupid comments. It’s not easy being a working mom. You face the same. You have to decide you don’t care what people think.

We made a decision collectively as a couple to do what was best for our family. A couple of years ago we both worked, but we still lived paycheck to paycheck. I rarely had a day off with my spouse, and he missed everything. He missed every softball game our eldest daughter played. He was exhausted most days. He never got to accompany us on fun, summer outings or exciting holiday gatherings. We never saw him. I was almost like a single parent. He came home tired where I unloaded the bad behavior of the children. So he was left to spend his minuscule time home disciplining kids or nodding off on the couch while we tried to spend quality time together.

Now we get at least four full days a week off together. We get two weeks of vacation together a few times a year. We take three-day, mini vacays once a month. We rose above the opinion of the status quo and made our happy happen. Instead of us both working ourselves to death we found a way to divide the workload. They say parenting is hard, and yes, it used to be, but now it’s enjoyable. Work used to be so much harder because I fulltime parented basically alone and worked, but no longer. I have never been more content, rested, or relaxed in my life! And that’s with a “deadbeat dude” with me.

I say, no deadbeat here, but I do have an amazing, supportive partner who has the same dreams in life as me. We dream of a happy, relaxed life where you enjoy your children and life with them. A life where you’re not stressed and exhausted. We are truly living that dream. And you know what? I don’t care what anyone thinks of that.

I’ve Always Been a Bad Friend

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I’ve always been a bad friend. Or maybe, perhaps, it’s simply that being friends isn’t my forte. I mean, I consider myself a nice person. I’m polite, kind, honest, loyal. All the attributes of a good friend. Yet when it comes to being friends, I’m usually like, nah, I’m good.

Call it a loner, call it an introvert, call it anything, but don’t call me. That’s my motto. It’s not that I hate people; I love them actually, but I’m not sure I trust them. Can anyone relate?

I don’t think I’ve always been this way. I’m sure I wasn’t born this way. I’m certain that in the preschool play yard I was cordial and inviting, but somewhere along the way I developed the notion that most folks weren’t worth the effort. Well, now, that sounds harsh. People are worthy of my effort, but somewhere deep inside I fear my efforts will be in vain. I avoid the possibility of rejection, and I run from betrayal. Being left at an early age by a biological parent injured my confidence, I suppose, and an ugly and painful bout with bullying in junior high and high school left me distrustful of most females. I had found most women to be mean, backstabbing even, and I did not have time for such a thing. Non-confrontational by nature, I preferred no company to treacherous company.

Maybe it was growing up the new kid in the neighborhood. My family moved five times in less than three years. Or perhaps it was being the sick kid with epilepsy. Everyone thought seizures were contagious. Or maybe it’s just the fact that I was a weird, little kid. Quiet, contemplative, yet also so eager to please others. I desired love more than anything! I wanted acceptance, to be liked, to feel special. Sigh. If I’ve learned anything in forty-one years it’s this. Only God can give you the worth you desire. That doesn’t mean, though, that I didn’t spend a good thirty years or so seeking it via my fellow man. Better late than never I guess.

Anywho, whatever the root cause of my particular traits concerning friendships, in the end I came to a conclusion. The majority of people didn’t give me that warm, fuzzy feeling I craved. Instead they gave me quite the opposite. They hurt me. A person can only take so much hurt.

I became very selective in my friendships, especially with females.

I had one best friend from third grade through middle school.

In junior high I branched out. I tried the cool crowd. I hung out with groups. I did the whole cliquey scene. Yuck. As you can imagine, I got burned. I crawled back into my cave.

I finished junior high with one close girlfriend.

I experienced a major case of bullying despite keeping my head down. I guess sometimes it’s a jungle out there. Like how a hunting lioness will sniff out the lone, weak prey, so too was I targeted for high school annihilation.

I spent the rest of my high school years skimming the surface. What I mean by that is skimming the surface of relationships. I had a lot of “friends,” but I didn’t really have any friends, if that makes sense. I didn’t share my innermost feelings with any of them. I didn’t trust anyone. I had things going on in my home life, but I kept it all inside. I smiled on the outside; on the inside I cried.

I was the girl who could keep a secret. If cell phones would have been around back then, I would have been the girl who always texted you back. Immediately. No matter what. I wouldn’t ditch you, lie to you, or use you. I had the makings of a good friend, but I didn’t want that. It was too dangerous being someone’s friend.

In college I found a bit more freedom to be myself. I stopped pretending to go with the status quo. I found a world full of more people like me, and I made my first friend in a long time. She was my best friend, and I would have laid down my life for her.

Seasons change. People change. Marriages come, children come. New jobs, new cities. Sometimes friendships fade. Sometimes people don’t keep up with one another like they should. Life just gets too busy. Gosh, that hurts. It hurt then. I understood it, but it still hurt to try and hang on to a friendship that had moved on without me.

I would not entertain another female friendship for eighteen years! That’s weird, right?! I mean, I had a couple of gal pals I hung out with over the years. We laughed, we had a good time, but I didn’t invest in them like I could have. I was a bad friend. I don’t guess I knew how to be a good one. I didn’t want to know.

I spent years seeing these other women growing into adulthood and middle age with their tribe. They went on girl trips, they had girls’ night out. A part of me envied the photos of females smiling together for the camera, but I knew I couldn’t put myself in their place. To open your heart to female friendship also meant opening your heart to female drama, gossip, betrayal, heartache. I wanted none of that! I’d give up the happy nights out if it protected my delicate heart. So, a lot of time went by without a girlfriend in my life. I figured it was better that way.

Good friends are funny how they sneak into your life. My very first, true friend in third grade came up to me in the playground with the corniest comment ever.

She said, “why don’t they call a hurricane a him-a-cane? Why’s it got to be a girl storm?”

We were inseparable thereafter.

The same kind of friendship slipped into my forties. I can’t remember what corny thing my clever friend uttered, but I knew immediately she was my kind of weirdo. More importantly, I knew I could trust her. She made me comfortable, and I wasn’t afraid she would hurt me. She was my friend, almost immediately, and it came about very naturally. It was nice to say I had a friend outside of my husband and sisters.

My bestie recently traveled a long distance to come see me. I liked how we fell into easy, relaxed conversation. That’s how it is supposed to be. This morning I thought about her. She had just flown out of the area. I thought about all the time I had let lengthen in-between our phone conversations.

I’m just not a good friend, I thought.

And at that moment I felt like God said, “but being a good friend is what I have for you.”

God made relationships. I knew this to be true. Man (or woman) convoluted this a lot of the time. We messed up relationships and friendships big time. We hurt people, we got hurt by people, and we in turn shut people out. We isolated ourselves, or maybe sometimes we couldn’t even be ourselves. We sought worth and being in other people, or we based our future experiences on our past, bad ones. But God made us for relationships. I knew this was true.

I haven’t always been a good friend, and perhaps it’s due to no fault of my own, but then I let it change me. I let bad friendships keep me from good friendships. I let past pain prevent future happiness. I gave up on something good God had for me. Well, I almost gave up.

I’ve decided God sends us the relationships we need exactly when we need them. He even slips them in if He has to, via a corny joke or business trip happenstance. He lines up relationships for His glory, but then it’s up to us to keep walking the path He put down. I haven’t always been good at being friends, but that doesn’t mean I have to stay bad at it. I can let go of fear in favor of faith in friendships. I’m trying anyway. Relationships can bring us pain, but they can also bring so much joy and laughter.

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?

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.