One of my older piano students (a grown up) recently said to me, “We all need one person in our lives that we can just lose our tempers on, say whatever comes out of our mouth -even if it’s swearing -and know that when we’re done yelling at them, they will still love us and forgive us because they know our hearts.”
I know that I have that in my Father in Heaven because I HAVE yelled at Him, and in return I felt nothing but overwhelming love… almost as if He’s glad I’ve let my guard down enough to be wholly honest with Him.
But guess who I don’t have that in? My husband.
When he came home from work that day, I brought it up.
“I don’t feel comfortable making any kind of mistake with you,” I said.
“I’ll try harder to be more —” he started to respond, but I cut him off.
“The thing is, I don’t think YOU feel comfortable like that with me either.”
He tilted his head in thought and then agreed that yes, he didn’t feel comfortable making mistakes in front of me or making mistakes and having to tell me about them.
I took his sweet bearded face in my hands, looked into his eyes -much to the awkwardness of all involved -and I said, “I want to feel comfortable making mistakes in front of you.”
He chuckled.
“Say it back to me….” I prodded, “Do it…. SAaAaaaaay it……”
“I want to feel comfortable making mistakes in front of you.”
“Even if it’s hard,” I said.
“Even if it’s hard,” he echoed.
“Even if it’s scary,” I said.
“Even if it’s scary,” he echoed.
“Even if it hurt…” I said.
Immediately, his eyes filled with fear.
“Have I hurt you?” He asked.
Oh, guys.
We have a long way to go. A looooong way to go.
I want to be SO MUCH for my husband, and I hate that I go over budget sometimes. So I hide it for as long as I can.
And that’s just a minor offense!
He’s the same way.
But the more we offend and are honest about it… The better our marriage is.
I’m serious! My husband and I fight more than we ever have, but our connection is more equal, much deeper, and it’s vulnerable and real.
You know what I don’t want? I don’t want to be the couple in their 80s with our hair all grey and/or gone who believe that the wife is somehow “The Better Half.” That doesn’t appeal to me in the least. I want to be his equal half, his other half, his missing half.
But better?
No, thanks.
We’re both trying to weed our marriage and home of shame and fear. It isn’t easy, and we’re pretty clueless as to THE HOW of it all, but we both know that somewhere in the Bible it’s written, “Clulessness begat Prayer.”
Right?
I’m pretty sure it’s there somewhere…
(The only recent picture I can find of BOTH of us together. Can’t seem to catch us without at least one kid sandwiched between us these days. Not that I’m complaining. Kid Sandwiches are the best.)
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