It's Like You're My Mirror

Hi.

So... Monday afternoon I had my first coffee in over a week.  I accomplished so much and was even awake to see Jered when he came home after work!  I grocery shopped, stocked up on new laundry products (boy laundry is so different from what I'm used to, and those armpit stains and smells have gone on for far too long), prepped tons of food (lettuce) for the week, and got down and dirty with some paints (Reba- I'm making some major headway on you-know-what!).

Last night we had friends over for dinner.  I was thrilled because I was only in charge of salad and chopping fruit.  Jered did the rest.  And guys!  He continues to amaze me.  He fried six catfish fillets, made his own seasoned breading, and even found a recipe for a delicious sauce that I would hesitate to call tartar sauce because I hate tartar sauce and what he made was awesome.  I couldn't help but continue to marvel over how well he did the entire time he and I cleaned up the kitchen.  It's the stuff food dreams are made of, people.

Ok, time to stop putting off what I really want to talk about.

You may have already gathered this, but marriage is on my brain about ninety percent of the time, and over the last few weeks, I've been amazed at how many times I need to hear something before it takes hold.  In this case it probably still hasn't.  Or at least I haven't learned how to live it.

I read/heard multiple times over the last few weeks that marriage is not to make us happy, but to make us holy.  This is counter to what the world teaches us and probably why divorce rates are so high.  Akin to this idea is the one that our spouse is something of a mirror for us because they have an uncanny ability to reveal our faults.

Like it or not, I'm being consistently reminded that this is a key part of marriage.  Not because we're supposed to pick each other apart, but because we're supposed to sharpen each other, to encourage each other to be more like Christ.

The problem then becomes how we do that.  And boy, I think I screw that up just about every time.

We were at church the weekend we visited my family when I heard it.  Basically: love is action.  I don't know why that wording struck me differently than "love is a choice" or "love is a verb," but it did.  I suppose he went into more detail about it which I don't recall now since it's been about three weeks.  (For the sake of balance, I just stumbled upon this great blog post that details the danger in thinking of love as only a verb.)

Previously I had always thought that no matter how angry I got at Jered, I would just choose to love him.  I will love him because I said I would.  And that's that.  "I'm ticked, but I love you.  You are my husband, and I will always love you."  Maybe I just think, "After all this, I'll still love you."

And while I think all of that is fine, a huge disconnect occurs when it doesn't extend to my actions.  Unfortunately that disconnect happens quite often.  I'm choosing to love my husband in my mind, but not actions or even the words I say to him.  If I think about love like I think about faith, the Bible says that faith without action is dead.  What does that make my love for Jered when I speak to him in anger?  When I let snide comments slip out?  When I hold on to my anger?

You've probably seen those articles with the shocking title like, "I Didn't Love My Wife When I Married Her" or something of that ilk.  It's true though, isn't it?  We don't really know what love is until we learn to do it when it's difficult.  Anyway, my desire is to always love my husband better than before.

I guess it's a good thing I have so much room for progress then.

Oh!  I almost forgot- Jered took me out for my belated birthday date, and boy, he did well.  First he took me to Famous Dave's and told me to forget about trying to eat healthy at all.  (This is like a foreign language for him.)  Yum, yum, yum.  And- look who was right behind us!  Jered obviously approved.

My surprise date involved us going to one of those pottery places.  If you haven't been to one, you go in and are faced with an enormous wall of shelves filled with different pottery pieces to choose from.  They have everything from mixing bowls to piggy banks.  I think my favorite part might have simply been the fact that Jered joined in on the fun with me.

   

To assuage any inquiries, no, it is not a dog dish, and no, it is not a pregnancy announcement.  It's just a dish that I'm going to use for jewelry. Haha.  Jered's shot glass is glazed orange and named after his truck.  (Now he has Big Walter and Little Walter.)

Well folks, I'll talk to you later.

Aim