“I just didn’t think it would be like this between he and I, so . . . so messy. We had a great courtship, a beautiful wedding — we did everything ‘right.’ But now I’m coming to realize that all of that doesn’t guarantee total happiness.” I wiped a tear forming at the corner of my eye as I took a deep breath. Our most recent fight still rankled in my mind, the one where he had told me I was lazy — and I told him he was a jerk. Surely my best friend, Rhonda, would understand. She gazed down at her cardboard coffee cup, obviously considering what to say.
*** Hi, Readers! The previous paragraph is the intro to a little story I’m making up for this week’s blog post. I’m actually working on several posts, still in draft format, but since I’m not ready to publish them yet, I thought I’d have a little fun and try my hand at a bit of fiction. Let’s see how this goes! . . . ***
Rhonda, sitting beside me on the park bench, looked up to meet my eyes, brows raised and gathered in kind concern. “I guess that’s what happens when you put two sinners together, isn’t it? I mean, we can’t expect everything to be fantasy material — real life is different.” She gave a kind little smile. “When Jerry and I got married, I had all these expectations about how it would be: He’d take me out on Friday-night dates, buy me flowers on important occasions, leave me little love notes on the kitchen counter. You know what? He doesn’t even pick up his dirty socks! I just had to let go of some of that stuff.”
I could hear the kids’ shouts as they repeatedly scrambled up the playground ladder, then shot down the steep slide. My three-year old tried his best to keep up with Rhonda’s four children. The baby was in her stroller. I peeked at her from where I sat: Still asleep. Thank goodness! She had been fussy all morning, and I had suggested going to the park as a way of getting both her and her older brother out of the house — and give myself a much-needed break.
“Well, I don’t expect perfection,” I replied, “I just wish he would be more understanding. He doesn’t know what it’s like to chase a three-year old around all day long and take care of a baby, while feeling completely exhausted from being pregnant. He’s never been pregnant! Then, when he comes home and it’s not picture-perfect material, he gets mad at me and blames it all on my supposedly being lazy!”
“Does he always talk to you like that?”
“No, just when he’s upset. I mean, normally, he’s a pretty nice guy. He works hard. He’s not abusive. None of that stuff. He can be so insensitive, though.” A rush of wind blew my hair into my face and I reached a hand up to brush it back into place. “Like, he watches football games when he gets back home from work, but he doesn’t even take time to notice that I’m about to go crazy with the house being such a wreck, two little mess-makers running around, and dinner still needing to be made. He just sits there, doesn’t even ask if I need help.”
Suddenly, my three-year-old began wailing, and I turned abruptly to see what had happened. As soon as I spotted him, I stood up fast, then rushed to where he had fallen to the ground beneath the ladder.
“Are you okay, Nicky?” I carefully lifted him up in my arms. Huge tears rolled down his cheeks. I rocked him gently while I kneeled in the wood chips.
“He fell off the ladder,” one of the other kids offered. “We didn’t push him. He just tripped or something and fell off. All by himself.”
“Okay,” I said. “I think he’ll be fine.” I carried him back with me to the bench, tenderly stroking his soft head and telling him he would be alright. The wind was picking up, and it looked like rain. “Well, Rhonda, thank you so much for meeting with us, but I think we’d better get back home. It’s most likely going to rain soon, and Nicky needs his nap.” I gave a short laugh. “And so do I — I’m beat!”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she replied while reaching over to give me a quick hug. “Call me when you have the time so we can finish our conversation. I’ll see you later.” She and I both proceeded to collect our children and get them into our cars. I quickly buckled Nicky in, went back for the baby’s carseat which was close by and settled it carefully in place, hoping she wouldn’t wake up, then hurried to get into my own chair. Soon after I had shut my door, the rain descended in full force.
I splashed home through a heavy downpour. The baby woke up shortly after we left the park, and we had to endure her screaming all the way back home. I kept replaying the last conversation I had had with my husband in my head. Talking to Rhonda had helped me feel better — kinda. But I was still mad at him. By the time I had parked the car, extricated my children from their car seats, gathered all our gear, and slogged up to the front door dripping wet, I was in a foul mood.
My husband opened it before I had a chance to insert the keys. “Hi!” His smile was ridiculous, considering the situation. I pushed past him, shouting at Nicky to take his shoes off before tracking mud into the house. My husband stared at me from beside the door he was now closing behind me. “How’d it go today?” he asked.
Did he not see I was drenched? “I could use some help putting these things away,” I said.
“Oh, sure.” He then proceeded to toss everything into the entryway closet which, of course, was where it didn’t belong. I sat down on the couch next to where I had put the baby’s carseat so I could unbuckle her. She was still crying.
“Baby, be patient, your milk is on its way,” I told her tiredly. She cried even louder. I used her baby blanket to dry myself off a little.
“Hey, Nicky, how’d you get that scrape on your knee?” my husband asked our son as Nicky pointed with concern to the still-fresh wound from his playground fall.
“Got hurt on my knee. Fell down.”
“Yeah, I see that. You’re a tough little guy. Did you get back up right away?”
“I cried.”
“Then you got up?”
“Yeah.”
I was irritated. “It’s natural for little kids — especially ones who are only three years old — to cry when they experience a scary fall of several feet from a high playground! You can’t expect him to not cry.”
He looked over at me from where he had been inspecting Nicky’s knee in the kitchen. “You’re right. I just want him to grow up to be tough, you know. I want him to learn to get back up when he falls down, not be fussed over like some baby.”
I didn’t reply. Whatever. A curious odor reached my nose. “What’s burning?” I shouted in alarm. “Do you have something in the oven?”
“Oh!” he said as he rushed over to the oven, yanking the door open with one hand while grabbing a nearby potholder off the counter with the other. Smoke poured out of the oven as he rescued a baking tray from its hazy depths. He held up the tray, staring at several little charred mounds crouching on its surface. “Wow.” He waved his potholder through the air to dissipate the smoke. Right then, the smoke alarm went off. The baby, who had quieted down and had been nursing contentedly, suddenly twisted her head around to see what was happening. She started to cry again. I had just about had it.
“What were you doing?” I shouted through the baby’s unhappiness as soon as he had silenced the alarm.
My husband looked back at me sheepishly. “Cookies. Chocolate chip.” He grinned. “And I still have some cookie batter left. Good thing!” He scraped the burnt cookies off the baking sheet. From a dough bowl on the counter next to him, he produced some fresh batter, dropping new mounds in orderly rows onto the tray. He then carefully placed it on the oven rack, the last few wisps of smoke escaping from the interior and drifting off to the open window over the sink. I hadn’t even known he knew how to make cookies! At least, he was trying to . . .
The rain had slackened and was now pitter-pattering gently on the rooftop. I had finally gotten the baby to re-latch and continue her nursing. Nicky went off to play with his trucks. I leaned back into the couch and breathed a deep, weary sigh. My husband came over to sit down next to me, extending his hand to rest on my shoulder. “Rough day?”
“Yes.”
He was more serious now, staring down at the floor. “Last night, we both said some really harsh things I think we didn’t mean.”
I arched my brows up at him in an Oh, really? sort of expression, but I let him continue.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about it today, and I want to apologize for what I said. Your’e not lazy — okay, maybe sometimes you are . . . ” I could feel my eyes opening wide in my I-can’t-believe-you-just-said-that look. He wasn’t looking at me, though, so he didn’t notice. His hands were held out in front of him on his knees, palms open. “I just get frustrated sometimes when I come home from a long, hard day at work and find the house a mess, and dinner still hasn’t been started, and all I see is you — laying on the couch reading a book. But, I know you’re tired, and you don’t feel well. It’s not really that you’re lazy. I’m sorry.”
I considered this for a moment. “You know, you’ve never been pregnant a day in your life, so I don’t think you have the right to judge me for something you don’t even understand. If you catch me reading a book it’s because I’m trying to focus on something else besides how terrible I feel. And I had planned on our having this great dinner, but then I felt too nauseous to be able to make it. And the kids were pulling toys out from who-knows-where — under the couch, under their beds, under the kitchen sink — and all I could do was lay here and let it happen.”
He again reached out his hand and placed it on my shoulder, turning now to look me in the eye. “I know.”
That softened me up. I hadn’t felt ready to make up with him yet, but I found myself saying the words, “I’m sorry, too. Next time I could put dinner in the Crock Pot. You’re not really a jerk . . .”
The smell of chocolate chip cookies was beginning to waft out from the kitchen.
Laughing, he got up from the couch. “Yeah, I know. Just real dumb sometimes.” He chuckled. “And those burnt cookies are the proof of that. Man! I’m not much of a baker!” Back in the kitchen, he opened the oven door just as the timer went off, pulling out a tray of golden brown, gooey cookies. They weren’t the perfect shape, but I could just imagine how delicious they would be when I slowly bit into their tender, chewy center. I was impressed.
He came back with several cookies on a plate, holding it out in front of me so I could pick one up. He sat down again, picking up his own cookie and holding it up for a bite. But before he bit into it, I felt an abrupt softness as he pressed a quick kiss to my lips. He sat back, smiling at me playfully. “The first batch didn’t turn out so well, but there’s still hope. My cookie-making skills aren’t too terrible! I may be dumb, but I’m not that dumb!” And as he laughed again, so did I.
***
- What advice would you give your younger self, if you could go back in a time machine and have a heart-to-heart with her about her marriage?
- This story dealt with the topic of insensitivity. Annoying and hurtful, but not a serious problem — unless we allow a root of bitterness to spring up (Heb. 12:15). In your opinion, what things are worth being upset over, and what things are better overlooked? Can you give us tips for how to deal (in a godly way) with insensitivity in a husband?
- How has your husband surprised you with the ways he has changed? How has he shown his love for you even when you didn’t completely deserve it?
What did you think about this little story experiment? I hope you enjoyed it! If you have any ideas for future articles, I would love to hear them!
~Jessica
Hi Jessica! My marriage is still too new to really relate to the stresses they’re experiencing. I think COVID also helped us see how each of us deal with our day to day responsibilities. Brian tends to be VERY considerate and understanding. We’ve been very lucky!
Hello, Courtney!
I’m so glad to hear that you’ve been blessed with a considerate husband. I think you’re right: it helps to see each person dealing with their responsibilites — then we can be more aware of what they’re up against and can know how to support them in that. Of course, that involves being observant and thoughful; but some people are a little selfish or are having a stressful day and don’t really notice when someone else is having a hard time. This is something that can happen no matter how young — or how old — your marriage is.
So, perhaps I could ask you: What have you found that has really helped you have a successful marriage right from the start? I bet there is at least one lady reading the comments who could be helped through some great tips!
~Jessica
Hi Jessica! You’re SO RIGHT that we’ve been incredibly lucky that our marriage has been so serene thus far. I think our shared values (fostered in the environment we met), and our shared expectations of married life have been the biggest blessing. I’d say our ONLY friction has been our mutual disappointment in not conceiving more readily than I have.
I can relate so much to this story. This past week I started specifically praying for help in this area. I’m too quickly annoyed when I feel like my work is not being valued, especially when I’m tired. We are in a multi generational home which can add to the stress, although it can be a blessing too.
Hi, Lee! I’m glad I wrote a story which was relatable.
I totally get you. I know how it feels to work very hard and then have people not (seem to) value it. Oh, yes! That happens a lot with children, especially, I think. They don’t value (at least not as much as we would like them to) having an orderly home, doing schoolwork, or being corrected, etc. And it can happen with a husband, too, as this post’s story portrays, when he doesn’t (seem to) value his wife’s hard work at home with the children.
What are some things you can do to deal with those moments when you get annoyed and feel like your work isn’t being valued? I will be praying for you! 🙂
~Jessica
I’m late in replying, but I try remind myself that having a family to serve is a blessing. When I serve others, I am serving Christ. I also try to discern if there is any truth to the offending statement. Maybe there is dust on the lamp or the pie crust is dry, despite my best efforts. Yes, it stings when I work hard and I still fall short but I can’t be annoyed at the speaker when it’s really me that’s in the wrong.
All good thoughts, Lee!
I also think that good communication is important. For example, if the pie crust is dry and you know you tried your best but someone complains about it, you could say, “I know it’s dry, though I tried hard to make it right. Do you have any suggestions for how I can do better next time?” Or, “I tried my best, and I feel hurt that you complained about my efforts. I feel discouraged from wanting to try again.” Not said angrily, or accussingly — just honestly. Make “I” statements to show how YOU feel, instead of making “you” statements that accuse the other person (like, “You are so insensitive”). Once you tell them how you feel, they may be able to relate to those same feelings. Understanding how you feel can help them be more sensitive next time. 🙂
~Jessica
I liked your story! It’s a good reminder to have grace with each other even when everything is in chaos.
Thanks, Elisa!
Hi Jessica! I really enjoyed this blog post!
Well I would likely give her the advice that was given to me well over 25yrs ago by my pastor’s wife.
Pray before you react because words are like toothpaste and cannot be stuffed back in the tube once squeezed out! Haha
I would also say that Jesus should always be the center of a marriage, actually top priority. Although sometimes in the past it was easier said than done for me.
Also I find that it’s always important to encourage/praise your husband when he puts the Lord first. For me sometimes that can easily be said than done!
Just an example…my husband was reading his Bible the other night. I often don’t see him doing that after dinner. Usually he watches hunting videos or sports. So when he was done reading I told him how encouraging it was for me to see him reading his Bible. I then asked him if he wanted to share what the Lord was speaking to him about.
So instead of me getting angry that he was being insensitive by not noticing that I didn’t feel good at all and that I was trying hard to clean up after supper…. The time turned out to be sweet fellowship.
Over time I have learned to pick battles and to be more gentle with my husband when I thought he was being insensitive. I am still trying to be more gentle when confronting him when I feel like he has mistreated or offended me by being insensitive. It is all a learning process and part of my personal prayer list!
I also learned most importantly that if I didn’t choose battles or gently confront the situation that it festered into bitterness within my heart.
With that being said it doesn’t leave much room for love as my heart is then filled with mostly strife and bitterness. That makes for a horrible day and a rough marriage!
Then when we talk it out I find that sometimes it’s actually me getting offended over something so simple! Sometimes, not always, we pray about it while holding hands which,for me, makes us feel so much closer together.
My husband has changed in the way that he has become more sensitive to my feelings over the years. I honestly think it was an answer to my prayer. I also feel like the way we have been so open with each other over the years has helped. Especially, I learned that not only has he been insensitive but sadly I have been also.
The most important way my husband has shown he loves me is that he always encourages me to follow the Lord and not to be so hard on myself when I faulter.
Also this may sound silly but he sometimes reminds me that I’ve forgotten my head covering while I’m running out the door for church and that to me shows his love for me and my convictions!
Such a great post Jessica! Thank you for sharing.
Hi Rosemarie! I LOVE this story! Brian and I regularly read the Bible at home, and I agree about being mindful of what you say. And YES, communication is CRUCIAL!
That’s great! I am loving this blog. It really is so encouraging “meeting” other ladies.
You’re welcome, Rosemarie!
I really liked the toothpaste analogy! And all your points were very helpful. You mentioned many things that will be so beneficial for us ladies to remember. Thank you so much for sharing what you’ve learned from your experiences!
~Jessica
I too LOVED the toothpaste analogy, VERY apt!
I think part of the problem is that in this secular age we are brought up to a romantic and idealised vision of marriage (and life in general) rather than one which emphasises the reality of living a lifelong relationship, through the very hard work and stresses and strains of life.
Oh YES! This is SO TRUE!
Thanks for those insights, Susanne. They make a lot of sense!
If I could add to your very good points a few thoughts of my own that your comment inspired: A romantic vision of marriage puts ME in the center (what can “I” get out of this? how can other people make ME happy?) instead of putting GOD in the center (how can I obey and honor God?) and US in the center (how can I do what’s best for my husband, for our relationship, and for our children?). Putting GOD and US in the center actually ends up greatly benefitting ME, but it takes perseverance to wait long enough to taste that fruit! 🙂
~Jessica
I agree completely. I also think that for many young women there is a rather incongruous obsession with the ceremony and symbolism of marriage (the dress, the party etc) without any serious thought as to what marriage actually means.
I say incongruous, because whilst they want the big dress, the veil etc they don’t actually live by those symbols by waiting for marriage, nor by respecting their future husband, nor by expecting or accepting any change to their lives.