Stumbling Around in The Light

Learning To Defer (Marital-Fitness 7)

So I’m getting ready for bed.  Mad.

Praying -  y’know, like every good wife does, when there’s been a marital conflict:
Lord help me…
Help me get thru to this thick-headed man!
God, change him!  And give me patience!
Break down his walls, Lord, and open his stinkin' ears...

Somewhere between facewashing and teethbrusing, God breaks through my thick-headedness.

I stop; head hanging down, elbows on the sunflower-glazed tile of my bathroom countertop. 
Quiet, finally.  Still.  Listening.

And He whispers it softly:
Defer.

An image flashes into my mind – in the car, Kevin driving confidently; me beside, at peace, easily deferring to his leadership, to his naturally-strong sense of direction.
This is where you do it right.

And a half-moment later, I see in my mind's-eye, the morning conversation with Kevin, in his office.  Him seeking affirmation & respect from his wife, while I raise an impatient eyebrow with frustrated disdain.
This is where you need to repent.

Before I can even get the toothbrush back into it's holder, everything falls into place. 

"Wives, submit to your husbands...
Husbands, love your wives..."

'Cause I know that I know that I know, I'm supposed to submit to my husband.  But knowing & doing are two different things.  And honestly?  Submit feels like a four-letter-word.

"Submit" conjures up images of a cowering, silent, homely woman in a drab, colorless, bag-dress.  And I just can't make that jive with the image of the passionate, strong, collaborative woman Kevin loves in me.  Yet, then again, I know he also longs for my respect; my submission to his leadership. 

Almost two decades of marriage, and I still don't know how to put submission into practice, in a practical way.

Sometimes Truth comes softly.  When I finally hush-up all my yammering and complaining and prayer-jabber...God speaks, with one simplistic, earth-shatteringly-enormous word of Truth:

Defer.

Defer one to another.

For 19 years, I've read, "Wives, submit to your husbands." 
For 19 years, my wounded-flesh and my willing-heart have been caught in a tug-of-war, control vs. submission, tautly pulling dangerously-thin the lifeline of God's blessing for marriage.

I climb into bed and tell Kevin the truth-word, whispered to me within the butter-yellow walls of our bathroom: 

Defer.

I tell him of how I've done it right.  That he's a directionally-gifted-superman, and since the first year or two of our marriage, I've peacefully & gratefully deferred to his leadership there. 

Then I tell him of how God showed me I've done it all wrong.  That I'm not in the thick of his business-workings, and who am I to think I know best?  That I finally understand what it means to submit; and it doesn't mean I can't have an opinion or input...it means, when it's time to sign on the dotted-line, I can peacefully & gratefully defer to his leadership there.

I can see in his eyes, he's really hearing me.  Iceman begins to thaw.  The icicles blocking his ears melt right out, and the cold-glazed eyes warm to something in the realm of appreciation.  So he actually hears it when I launch into this:

I know you love me. But really, like Christ-loves-the-church? What does that even mean? 'Cause you don't have to go nail yourself to the cross for me or anything...y'know?  But maybe - maybe it means - you could love me enough to defer to me in my little areas of specialty.  'Cause play-doh sometimes feels like a big deal, and the stewardship of tahini can seem like faith, and loving me in the kitchen is as intimate to my soul as sex is to yours.

Defer one to another.

We were smack-in-the-middle of a big-fat-ugly, almost-ready-to-throw-down-dishes play-doh war...and God spoke. 
And we got it.

I laid there next to Kevin, up on my elbow, and literally cried in utter amazement & joy:
We did it, Honey!  Conflict resolution! We actually did it right!  Not just conflict sweep-it-under-the-rug.  Or conflict endurance.  Or conflict maybe-I'll-forget-about-it-in-the-morning.  We actually resolved the conflict!

And he smiled, and agreed...and leaned to kiss me.  And I kissed him right back.  Which led to other things, that I won't mention...tho you can be sure, what followed was another beautiful part of the ol' conflict resolution thing.  No doubt.

It may not always go so well.  But I'm grateful to trade in the tough-to-swallow, four-letter-word "submit" - for the tenderly bestowed, gently-palatable word "defer."

And we're learning.
Learning to defer.

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So be honest, has the word "submit" been a hard one for you too?  Where do you struggle with it the most?  Could the idea to 'defer' make a difference there?

The Play-doh War (Marital-Fitness 6)

Warning: this post contains emotional nudity, which may be inappropriate for young children, or adults with perfect marriages.

It was late. 
We were both overstimulated & overtired. 
Bed was calling, but there was still much to be done. 
Laundry. Lunches. Clean-up.
It started something like this...

Me: "oh, honey, don't forget to use the gluten-free bread for Nekoda..."
Hubby: (silence)
Me: "don't use jelly, 'kay? I've been using just a bit of Agave instead...plenty sweet enough..."
Hubby: (silence)
Me: "oh! do the boys really like the Tahini or something?" (with mild annoyance)
Hubby: "I use it on their sandwiches, 'cause no one else uses it!" (not-so-mild annoyance)
Me: "well, good grief! I get it for making hummus! And it's really expensive! Could you please not use it just for sandwiches?" (outright annoyance, poorly disguised with a smile & sarcastic humor)
Hubby: "do you have to question me like that?!?  You might think this is being collaborative...but I think it feels like you're nit-picking how I make sandwiches! I'm plenty capable of making the kid's lunches!"
Me: "Sorrrreee!  Sheesh, you just obviously didn't realize what I use the Tahini for!"

Tiptoeing and icy interaction for another 15 minutes. 
Then...the actual Play-doh War commenced.
It went down like this:

Me: "gosh, Kevin, don't worry about the play-doh; I'll clean it up." (joining him with the play-doh clean-up)
Hubby: (silence - while tossing play-doh toys into their tub)
Me: "wow, Serene left a ton of it out all afternoon...eww, it's all dried up..."
Hubby: (silence - while packing mostly-dried-up play-doh into containers)
Me: "seriously, honey, let me finish cleaning it up; I need to just throw away the dried-up stuff."
Hubby: (silence - continuing to scoop dried-up play-doh together)
Me: "Kevin? Can we puh-leeeze just throw the dried-up stuff away?" (mild annoyance)
Hubby: "She'll still play with it!" (not-so-mild annoyance)
Me: "She won't play with it! It just gets more dried up! It'll ruin the softer pieces! We need to throw it away!" (total frustration, poorly disguised with a smile & sarcastic humor)
Hubby: "Can I just clean up the play-doh? It's late, and I'm tired, and I just want to clean up the freaking play-doh!" (completely & utterly pissed off)
Me: "I know play-doh! Okay?!? I'm like the play-doh Princess! I've cleaned it up maybe a thousand times in the past 16 years of motherhood, and we need to THROW AWAY THE DRIED UP PLAY-DOH!!!!"  (furious, without any attempt at disguising it)

I'm not absolutely clear about what all was said next...but suffice it to say, the play-doh incident was about WAY more than play-doh, and led to an all-out war-of-words. 
"I feel like you don't respect me!"
"well, you don't respect me!"
"I feel like you don't listen to me!"
"well, you don't listen to me!"
"I feel like you don't care about my input!"
"well, I feel like your input makes me irrelevant!"

To paint a truly accurate picture, I have to include this context:
Earlier in the day, we had some big conversations about Kevin's business.
Where I was just maybe, a teeny-tiny bit not-so-encouraging about certain less-than-speedy time-lines.  Where he was kinda-sorta asking for my input, but actually seeking something-akin-to-affirmation, rather than honest opinion.  And I missed it. That subtle difference, y'know?  The difference between saying what-I-really-think, and saying what-I-think-you-want-me-to-say-I-think. 

Anyway.  Maybe, just maybe...Kevin's significance was a little beat down. And since he responded less-than-lovingly to my honest-opinion-cause-that's-what-I-thought-you-wanted slip-up...my security was a little beat down.

Here's a nugget of truth I've discovered in the Miller house:
When a man is craving significance, and a woman is craving security, the battle for control is on.

But I'm sure nothing like this has ever, ever happened in your house. Right?
Yeah, sure.
Maybe the words come out a little different...but seriously isn't that what we do when we go to battle? 
Don't we vie for control, over our respective areas? 

This war actually has a better-than-truce ending.  Seriously, close to epic.  So stay tuned....

(click here for part two!)

Do you find yourself vying for control in your house?  Even a teeny bit?  On a bad day?  C'mon...share a little something, just so I don't feel so alone???  Thanks...

Launching The New Year

Yeah, I know, we're already halfway thru January...

but this week felt like the launching of the new year.

Monday was our first day back into all the busyness of home school lessons, cottage school, youth group, extracurricular classes. 

Early mornings tend to be just a teeny bit cranky around here, especially for certain teenagers who spent the last two weeks enjoying late nights watching 'Lord of The Rings' and sleeping-in till 10am.  Hiking to the high school for 1st & 2nd period part-time classes at 7:15am, uphill-both-ways-in-the-snow (you think I'm kidding??) is, ummm...welllll, let's just say the toddlers in the house aren't the only ones with a whining issue.

Oh - you thought I was talking about the teenagers?  Well, maybe them too - but seriously, Kevin & I are the ones whining.  So much pleading & persuasion for a ride to class.  So much driving.  So much busyness. The hurried rush to get breakfast, make sack-lunches, prepare backpacks, get some out the door, then turn around and face home school lessons with others.  The days feel so crowded; I can't see my way.  Where is the peace we used to enjoy with home schooling?  This straddling-the-fence, half-cross-ways between home schooling and cottage school and part-time classes and extracurricular activities...is just. not. working. 
(okay, be honest, aren't ya rolling your eyes at all my whining???)

So - we're recalibrating.  The pace of last semester was NOT sustainable.  Over the last few months, Kevin & I have learned a valuable lesson:

If it's not sustainable, it's not gonna work.

Even more harsh, and true?

If it's not sustainable, it leads to sin.

Trying to sustain a pace of pleasing all seven of my children, my friends, family, husband...adhering to cultural expectations at every-other turn...and striving for 'perfect'...is not sustainable.  And - duh! - you know as well as I do -
all that self-reliant striving & perfectionism & people-pleasing leads to the worst kind of looks-good, deliciously-insidious sin. 

pride
impatience
judgement
frustration
criticism
discontent
anger
just to name a few...

That is a stinking, rotten-on-the-vine kinda way to live.
Not exactly the fruit I wanna cultivate in my life, and in my home.

So here we go, launching the new for this year.
With new hopes;
new plans,
new relinquishing,
new intentions,
new deferring,
new dreams,
new peace,
just to name a few...

We're dropping some of the cottage school classes, rearranging the pick-up schedules.  Taking an afternoon for some 'Come Away With Me' time, to read, write, pray, think.  Adding a worship dance class, just for my soul.

Rejoicing in the promise:
Even as I struggle in my people-pleasing,
He gives more grace.

Yeah, I've had a bit of a slow start...
And now I'm ready to launch. 

So what are you launching this year?  Anything you need to let go of?

 

He Gives More Grace

If a life is lived, but not remembered or recorded, is it truly lived?

If a life is lived, but without impact or imprint upon the surrounding world, is it truly lived?

Mere existence...going thru the motions, of duty & response, perhaps even obedient & loving service...is this truly living?

The imprisonment of busyness steals my very life away.

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I do not write because I do not have time.  And I do not have time because I fear the judgement and consequential shame of imperfection.  Handicapped by the heavy chains of this busyness-prison, I live day-upon-mundane-day of mere existence. 

What am I so busy with?

Volumes of good intentions lay before me.  Yet I turn page after empty page of unwritten story.  There are margins & outlines & schedules, and even the occasional burst of truncated narrative.

Gaping blank spaces reflect the forgetable dailyness of dutiful loving, living, & serving; chapters absent of adventure or storyline.  The chains of busyness keep me writing and rewriting - preface, introduction, preliminary chapters.  When does the enthralling tale begin?  Where is the epic adventure?

I think I will...
We ought to...
I should...
Maybe we can...

So much good to be done, yet I am afraid to commit, afraid of the high cost and hard work and ever-looming risk of failure.  I dwell in these empty pages, paralyzed in this busyness-prison, chained to self-inflicted perfectionism.

"Therefore, to him who knows to do good, and does not do it, to him it is sin."  -James 4:17

And yet...
is this life, filled with practical, vital, mothering duties...
is this not the very 'good' I am called to do?

Or
is it -
as a striving to please and pacify and perfect -
mere existence?

For what is my life?

"It is even a vapor that appears for a little time, and then vanishes away."  - James 4:14

I think, perhaps, the attempt at concise answers for the new year is little more than drivel;
superfluous words of vacuous fiction,
self-gratifying attempts to fill the empty life-pages with ephemeral meaning.

And then again -
Perhaps the grappling for God's will, in itself, IS the epic.

"Instead you ought to say, 'If the Lord wills, we shall live, and do this or that.'"  - James 4:15

So then, if the Lord wills,
we will live,
and we will do...
and strive to do the good He calls me to.

But how?  For all the empty pages, and the unkept intentions?

"And He gives more grace."  - James 4:6

For all I've left undone,
For all the doing that has been mere existence,
bound in the chains of busyness-prison,

He gives more grace.

For the longing and the hope,
For the fear of failure,
For the grappling, with no easy answers,
For breaking the chains of perfectionism
and fleeing these busy-prison walls,

He gives more grace.

linking up with Lisa-Jo at The Gypsy Mama

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Thanks for 'listening,' friends.  This post came almost word-for-word out of my midnight-hour journal entry on the 2nd day of the new year.  As I've pondered & digested the final chapters of the book of James...I've been hit with the shallowness of so many life-pursuits, and the overwhelming depth of God's calling.  How to live in this world, and yet remain unspotted? 
How to pursue intentionality, yet release my grip on the treasures of this culture? 
How is it that simplifying our lives...makes things so complicated...? 

There are no easy answers.  And so I trust in the giving of His grace.

What are you grappling with, as we embark on a new year?