The Car Wash. It smells of rainbows and happiness. My family laughs at me when I say I'm going to My Happy Place. I can't see anything, hear anything or do much of anything in this magical sudsy swishy world. It scrubs the bug guts, road residue, and general driving dirt of my pretty white truck. Some day I will have to write about my awesomely nicknamed Mighty White. She sounds super mighty with her new louder muffler!
I was taught years ago that the first room to be cleaned in my house should be the Master Bedroom. I completely agree, but don't do it all the time. Do you always do everything you've been taught? If so, don't judge me...
The reason your supposed to do it - to treat your "together" space as sacred. It should be free of clutter, distractions and stress. The reason I don't do it all the time - it's the place that I am safest to fall apart, be messy and procrastinate in a way that is relatively harmless.
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| My "Desk" |
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| Bed Pillow Staging Area with fuzzy friends |
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| Pillows staged, fuzzy friends put upright, and tidiness established (in this corner). |
I mostly love being a wife. My husband, he is my world. I've learned to love him in ways I never imagined I could love, forgiven in ways I never realized I needed to forgive, and worked harder alongside him than I never knew I'd need to.
We remain a work in progress and if I dedicated an entire year of Messy Mondays to our marriage I might scratch the surface of the massive messiness we have navigated together. We are hot-headed, strong-willed, and even have opposing favorite football teams (Broncos vs. Cowboys). We live loud, pray hard, and laugh a lot.
The things I do to love him well:
Choosing to
keep my mouth shut,
wait patiently for God to move in areas I have no control over, and live with him in such a way that I
don't break the masterpiece (him) being built alongside me.
Forgiving in ways I never realized I'd need to forgive means:
I have to forgive him and myself for not being who I thought we should be. The first 10 years of our marriage I spent trying to change him into whoever I thought I should have for my husband (like I knew?!). The next 10 I spent trying to convince him (more myself) that we were going to survive raising kids together with very different family histories and perspectives. This past 7 years, I've focused on forgiving myself and him for past wounds, ridiculous fights, and the pain of not meeting each other's expectations in big ways and small.
For us, marriage is really messy work. This means:
Giving each other the space to grow, become, and expand horizons while not losing the connection in our marriage. When we are in sync, all is well, peaceful and encouraging. When we are out of sync, life is painful, overwhelming and discouraging. When we are at peace with each other and not wrestling with God over the circumstances we are facing, there is a core level peace that feels clean, tidy even - until it's not.
When we see things from opposite angles, find opposing solutions to perceived or real problems, and for me, when the slimy goo of fear pushes in like a sludgy wave of doubt over my own capabilities, strife happens. It squeezes with a vice-like grip choking my faith in us to come out of it on the other side. This is when we do the intense, stinky, gritty work of being married. We take a breath, remind each other (we take turns on this, somehow) we are on the same team and talk (or yell - just keeping it real here) until we find the common ground - what is best for our family.
We only work this hard to be married because we both firmly believe its worth doing. We also have a great counselor for when we get stuck in deep muck and can't find the high ground. We have learned to share our disasters as needed with others to encourage them to hang on and do the work, because it truly is worth the effort. The picture below is a pose we have been striking since we first got together almost 28 years ago. Looking at this picture alone might make you think we've dialed in the whole marriage thing. Ha! Nope! We just aren't going to quit working (shoveling, mopping, scrubbing...) on it.
This is me. No makeup because, like I said in
Friday's post, I deal with anxiety and menopause. Preparing to go to a very fancy wedding (for people I love - I wish that made it easier) kept me dripping and hot flashing all afternoon. Also, our oldest son was going to his first Homecoming Dance and I was going to be at the wedding, not using my telephoto lens to capture every last detail of this big "First". The eyes shut picture my Love snapped makes me laugh because he caught a moment when I just didn't want to be seen. I closed my eyes. See me? Nope, because I can't see you - just like a baby playing peek-a-boo, right?!
Then, I look at my Big Boy. He's becoming a man. His growing, voice-cracking, facial hair sprouting self makes me hold my breath sometimes. Did we teach him enough? Will he be able to figure it out on his own, all these new situations and events he's facing? Will his educational and life challenges hold him back or compel him to push forward? Parenting him is super messy because he's the oldest - the one who becomes the test subject for all parenting experiments and ideas. I have no idea what's next for him.
I do know this. I love him and he loves me. He's a promise from God fulfilled, in the flesh. The goofy, loud, opinionated, Geico commercial quoting man-cub standing next to me is becoming my newest hero.
