I fired the first shot. Over morning coffee and mundane conversations about yard work and chores, I loaded each bullet mentally. Each misunderstanding, miscommunication, and each hurt...one by one I primed my weapon, the most dangerous weapon of all...my tongue. I cocked back and aimed for the heart, and I didn't miss.
I expected to feel more satisfaction. Instead I just felt worse. Where in the scriptures did it say, do unto your husband as he hath done unto you? My words are sharp, piercing skin, ripping into flesh and I can read it on his face. Was this the resolve, the healing I had proclaimed I wanted? Or was this just plain and simple revenge?
There was no love, no grace, no Jesus in this shootout. And who just sits like a target when bullets fly? Return fire. Why do we chose to mame? The only outcome is that we both walk away wounded.
I feel conviction. Like a kid that stole a piece of candy from the dollar store, I know my actions were erroneous. But I take it out anyway, unwrap it, chew and swallow the bitter taste of my pride. Guilty. How many times have I treated God the way I feel mistreated by my husband? Am I shamed? Lashed unmercifully by the sharpness of the tongue. Never. So why do I do this to the one whom I love most?
The smoke clears. We both have a decision to make. Either we continue in this unproductive feud, or we ceasefire, raise the white flag...and offer peace. Neither of us are deserving, but that is the beauty of grace. A hug. An open communication without condemnation or judgement. Hearts willing to listen, defenses lowered. How many days have we wasted on trivial pursuits. How many nights did we elude rest chasing after selfish ambitions. Why do we so often forget we are the same side, he is not my enemy, I am not his adversary.
Twelve years of marriage and we still struggle with this. We forget. We fail. God whispers into our souls and we remember. We succeed.
Day Nineteen we healed. We are not cured. But the more times we experience this maybe the sooner we can amend our ways. Maybe this particular scar will serve as a reminder that even our marriage is not our own, it's not meant to be operated by the selfish wills of our flawed human nature. Rather it is God's establishment, and to function efficiently we need less of us...more of Him.
It is kind of beautiful when you let go. Release the anger, distrust, the resentment you grasp so tightly to. When you allow God to be in charge of the softening of your spouses heart, when you get out of His way so that He can work more tenderly on the core.
The family felt fractured. The kids feeding off the tension and turmoil. When they arrived home from school today it was like the weight of the world was off their shoulders. We never intend to involve them in our drama, but I think often times they are involuntarily inserted into the discord. Subconsciously they choose sides. Kids are more intuitive than we give them credit for. When they see both of their parents in harmony it surely is an alleviation of burden. Even when you don't have blatant fights in front of your children, they are intelligent enough to notice disunity. I personally can appreciate that they are bearing witness to the conflict, because we have always found resolution. That is real life. And today I got to see the weight lift.
We buried our precious Poppy today. As a family. And with her we buried the hatchet that had punctured our solidarity for this past few days...and then we broke bread. (That is more of a figurative term, don't worry I avoided carbohydrates 😀)
I expected to feel more satisfaction. Instead I just felt worse. Where in the scriptures did it say, do unto your husband as he hath done unto you? My words are sharp, piercing skin, ripping into flesh and I can read it on his face. Was this the resolve, the healing I had proclaimed I wanted? Or was this just plain and simple revenge?
There was no love, no grace, no Jesus in this shootout. And who just sits like a target when bullets fly? Return fire. Why do we chose to mame? The only outcome is that we both walk away wounded.
I feel conviction. Like a kid that stole a piece of candy from the dollar store, I know my actions were erroneous. But I take it out anyway, unwrap it, chew and swallow the bitter taste of my pride. Guilty. How many times have I treated God the way I feel mistreated by my husband? Am I shamed? Lashed unmercifully by the sharpness of the tongue. Never. So why do I do this to the one whom I love most?
The smoke clears. We both have a decision to make. Either we continue in this unproductive feud, or we ceasefire, raise the white flag...and offer peace. Neither of us are deserving, but that is the beauty of grace. A hug. An open communication without condemnation or judgement. Hearts willing to listen, defenses lowered. How many days have we wasted on trivial pursuits. How many nights did we elude rest chasing after selfish ambitions. Why do we so often forget we are the same side, he is not my enemy, I am not his adversary.
Twelve years of marriage and we still struggle with this. We forget. We fail. God whispers into our souls and we remember. We succeed.
Day Nineteen we healed. We are not cured. But the more times we experience this maybe the sooner we can amend our ways. Maybe this particular scar will serve as a reminder that even our marriage is not our own, it's not meant to be operated by the selfish wills of our flawed human nature. Rather it is God's establishment, and to function efficiently we need less of us...more of Him.
It is kind of beautiful when you let go. Release the anger, distrust, the resentment you grasp so tightly to. When you allow God to be in charge of the softening of your spouses heart, when you get out of His way so that He can work more tenderly on the core.
The family felt fractured. The kids feeding off the tension and turmoil. When they arrived home from school today it was like the weight of the world was off their shoulders. We never intend to involve them in our drama, but I think often times they are involuntarily inserted into the discord. Subconsciously they choose sides. Kids are more intuitive than we give them credit for. When they see both of their parents in harmony it surely is an alleviation of burden. Even when you don't have blatant fights in front of your children, they are intelligent enough to notice disunity. I personally can appreciate that they are bearing witness to the conflict, because we have always found resolution. That is real life. And today I got to see the weight lift.
We buried our precious Poppy today. As a family. And with her we buried the hatchet that had punctured our solidarity for this past few days...and then we broke bread. (That is more of a figurative term, don't worry I avoided carbohydrates 😀)
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