Top Ten of 2022

I guess my top nine Instagram posts and top ten blog posts (primarily read on Facebook) have really started to diverge. My top nine was all about yoga, something I've done less of, but engaged more with on social media this year:

And the majority of my top ten blog posts had to do with marriage:

Real Life Marriage: Doing Love Wrong...Again!

Three R's for Rekindling Romance

100 Books

It Shouldn't Be This Way

Watching and Waiting with Expectancy

Couple Crafting

Real Life Marriage: Doing it Together

I'm Having a Reckoning.

What to Do? What to Do?

Marathon Marathon 2022 10K Recap

I don't know if people are just interested in my marriage, or if what I write resonates. Either way, I hope readers benefit.

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Until 2023...

Happy New Year!

Resolutions for This Time

I wrote these resolutions back in 2020, during my first bout with the COVID-19 virus. I based them on the John Piper book (2011), Don't Waste Your Cancer, and Jonathan Edwards' 65 resolutions. I have kept them posted on my bulletin board to remind myself to keep perspective when things do not go my way, particularly during illness. As my household, and many others, I gather, have faced illness again this Christmas, it seems appropriate to share these resolutions here:

Resolutions For This Time

1. Recognize my need (for The Savior).

2. Repent of known sins. (Resolve to avoid additional sins.)

3. Read the Bible daily. (Study some.)

4. Fulfill responsibilities (marriage, work, house, home, etc.)

5. Slow down/spend time (Reduce injury; build relationship).

6. Worship instead of worry. (Give thanks.)

7. Eat good food. (In general, just eat).

8. Keep to sleep. (Go to bed on time.)

9. Grieve (recognizing that any losses are temporal and not eternal).

10. Have fun (yoga, games, movies etc.).

If you are healthy, may you stay well.

If you are ill, may you rest.

May you heal.

May you make the most of this time,

because sick or not,

it is time we won't get back.

References:

Edwards, J. (2006). The resolutions of Jonathan Edwards. Desiring God. https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/the-resolutions-of-jonathan-edwards

Piper, J. (2011). Don't waste your cancer. Crossway.

Things That Steal My Joy

We bought a new refrigerator last week. It was not really a choice. Rather, it was a necessity because our old one quit working, like completely quit working. Our food was either frozen in our newly acquired chest freezer, or in coolers with ice packs on the cold outdoor porch. Not really a way to live, at least not in the 21st century.

My husband did a lot of research on fridges. He found budget, and not so budget options. Alone, I probably would have bought the cheapest, ugliest thing and lived with it. That's really not the best option, but that's probably what I would have done. My husband, however, knows value and quality. He encourages us, where we can, to buy things with functionality. I always benefit when we do.

So back to the refrigerator, we decided to spend a little more than bottom dollar and get a nicer fridge with more features. Granted, we could not afford the fridge we really wanted, but we could afford one from the scratched and dented store that would take a little work. It took a lot of work just to acquire the fridge, and then to haul it upstairs into our condo. I felt an immediate wave of relief when we did. But then the foreboding joy started. 

After all this work, we would not want to ever move this fridge out of our condo. We had put a lot of money into it, and would put more. We would spend more time and money programming it to meet our needs. And then someday leave it? Instead of celebrating, I started prematurely grieving. Alternately, I questioned. I questioned if we really needed this fridge. I questioned if we should have gotten a cheaper one. I had a mild case of buyer's remorse, all of which stole my joy.

What I needed was to be thankful. What I needed was to be grateful. What I needed was to live in the moment, to savor the relief, to savor having a way to refrigerate food again. To celebrate modern conveniences. To rejoice over the wonderful ways God provided. To congratulate my husband on his frugal find. To dream about possibilities. It was a struggle.

Maybe it's my personality. Maybe it's life. I don't know. What I do know is that I want joy, and that I allow a lot of things to take it from me. Feelings are feelings, but I choose what to do with them. As I notice and name my joy stealers, I hope I get better at stealing the joy back. There is enough of it in this life. God has given us that. We just have to take it.

Fair Doesn't Mean Equal: A Reprise

We are currently in the midst of a home renovation project. Am I doing a whole lot to help? Nope, not really. Is my husband doing the bulk of the labor? Yes, yes he is. I blogged about fairness and equality way back at the beginning of our marriage, and now the lesson comes again: Fair doesn't mean equal. 

I take care of quite a few everyday things around the house. I plan meals, do the majority of the grocery shopping, handle laundry, etc. I like doing these things, and I think it's part of my job as a supportive wife. My husband could do more of these things, and probably would, if I asked him, and if he had time. Generally, though, these are my tasks.

I sometimes get frustrated about all the things that I do around the house. It's not right. It's not godly. It's not admirable, but it's true. And then times like these come. My husband has worked most of every day, for days on end, at this project. I try to help in areas that I can, but those areas are very few. The work is far from equal or fair: He pulled out all of the flooring by himself. What did I do? I asked my mom to help me walk the removed flooring to the garbage. My husband put in the new flooring all by himself. What did I do? I moved a few things to try to make it easier. He has the knowledge and expertise for this project (know how to tap off a new water line for an ice maker anyone?), and I don't. He also has the strength. (How many trips did it take my mom and I to carry flooring to the garbage? Probably double or triple what it would have taken him. And I am incapable of moving or carrying appliances.) So I've been resting, encouraging, asking where I can help, and trying to stay out of the way. Although this is a project for us as a couple, it is mostly his project to do. In the moment, it is neither equal or fair.

Fair doesn't mean equal. Relationships have seasons. The weight of tasks come and go. This is one of many reasons commitment matters. Over time, things generally even out. If I take all the little things I do and stack them up against the hours my husband spends on big projects like this one, maybe, just maybe, things are fair or equal. In the moment, though, things can seem anything but fair, and that takes some working through. I am seeing that right now, and I hope I remember this lesson for the future, too.

Underneath the Couch

We had to move our couches this weekend. Pushing them to the side exposed big, nasty piles of dust and debris, along with a few "lost" items. Quite frankly, I felt embarrassed. I pride myself on keeping a clean house (which might be part of the problem), and this made me feel like a failure. Indeed, yes, if a perfectly clean house is the goal, I had failed. Failure left me feeling icky.

As I reasoned with myself, though, I reasoned that it is unwise to move the couches every week to clean under them. It is unwise for physical reasons, and for time reasons. I am not really strong enough to move couches, so I could get injured, and it doesn't make sense to spend the time it would take every week. Not moving the couches, though, leaves me needing to reckon with the mess.

I reckon that the mess reminds me that I am not perfect. The mess reminds me that something good enough has to be good enough. The mess reminds me that everyone has stuff they cover up. Sometimes it's good to look under the couch. Sometimes it's not.

Looking under the couch might look like getting real and vulnerable with friends or family about struggles. That happened in conjunction with the couch moving. I was at a near breaking point and had to talk to my mom about it. When she and my dad came down to help, she also saw the mess under the couches. Life is like that sometimes. It exposes our stuff. 

There are times are not good to look under a couch, too. Times I need to run out the door. Times when moments are limited. Times I need to invest in friends and family rather than navel-gazing. Times when my ego-strength is not strong enough to endure more introspection. Times that just aren't "right."

In my home and in my life, there were always be stuff "under the couch." It takes wisdom to know when to look and when not to look. It takes trust in God's sovereignty to deal with the stuff that emerges when I am not looking. May God grant both, as I am sure I will have many more opportunities in this life to see what's "underneath the couch."

All the Lights

I have a thing for Christmas lights. Growing up, my dad often drove us around different neighborhoods to see lights. In my teens, the city filled a park with lights and dubbed it the Valley of Lights. We would go every year...multiple times. Now as an adult, I still look for any and every chance I can to see Christmas lights. This year might take the cake.

The day after Thanksgiving, we went to the Mesa Christmas tree lighting.

Then we went to Lights at the Farm, a walk-through, synchronized light show.

Next, we went and saw the Mesa Temple Christmas lights.

Then we went to the drive through Rockin' Christmas synchronized light show.

And to the Fantasy of Lights boat parade.

Are we done yet? I don't know. We might have gone overboard on seeing lights this year, but it's sure been fun!

Real Life Marriage: The Christmas Tree

I like Christmas. Really, I do! But I also find Christmas very, very overwhelming. Like the Christmas boxes, the Christmas decorations, the Christmas tree! When I was on my own, I had a little mini tree from Walmart, and a strand of lights. That was it. Now we have a big, beautiful six-footer with lights, ornaments, and a tree skirt in our living room! I spent all of about half on hour on the tree, though. My husband did the rest. That was one of his gifts to me in this Christmas season.

Eve Rodsky (2021), in her book Fair Play writes about the mental load of household tasks. I am a person who really feels that. Just keeping food in the refrigerator, meals on the table, and the laundry sometimes seems daunting. While I like Christmas and its decorations, they are just one more thing to do, and I do not do them well. This year, I just didn't. I let my husband do them.

A crucial component of the fair play system that Rodsky (2019) writes about is that each partner takes a task and handles all of it. That means that each person conceives, plans, and executes (Gregoire, 2020). I thought of that as I let my husband decorate. He decided he would do it. He is is good at it. I was going to let him do it!

Choosing to let my husband decorate did come with some costs, though. He organizes differently than I do. He unpacks differently than me. The unpacking process does not bother him like it does me. If I was letting him do the task, though, I shouldn't come behind and reorganize. Or clean up. He had a system, and I needed to leave it.

As it stands, we have a beautiful tree in our living room, lovely decorations on various mantles, and an office that eventually got emptied of Christmas boxes. The only overwhelm I faced was those boxes, and for a limited time. The mental load was next to nil. While I did tidy the boxes in the office some so I could move around while they were there, otherwise, I let things be. My husband took the task. He was in charge of it. I am benefiting, and focusing on that beautiful Christmas tree, I don't have to see much else. Maybe there is something to letting people take a task, the whole task if they are willing, and just enjoying life in the meantime.

References:

Gregoire, S.W. (2020, June 2).Bare marriage. https://baremarriage.com/2020/06/the-fair-play-system-conception-planning-execution/

Rodsky, E. (2019). Fair play: A game-changing solution for when you have too much to do (and more life to live). G.P. Putnam's Sons.

When the Same Words Mean Different Things

We have been having a discussion about words in our house. I ask my husband how I can care for him. He states that he doesn't want to be cared for. He wants to be supported. I want to be cared for. He doesn't always know how to do that for me. We're speaking the same language, but we're speaking differently.

My husband wants my support. He wants me behind him. He appreciates it when I do things for him. Care to him, though, means that he is inadequate, that he is somehow unable to take care of himself. When I use that word, it offends him, demeans him. It is not my intent, but that is the message my care delivers.

I, on the other hand, can get offended when my husband says he doesn't want to be cared for. I feel that it demeans my service and love. When he says he does not want to be cared for, I feel like he is saying he doesn't want me to do what I think a godly wife should do. That makes me feel inadequate. That's not what he's saying. Our words just mean different things.

To further complicate the matter, we need different things. I want to be cared for and supported. I wanted to be valued, treasured, and doted on as well as supported. I don't want to be treated as am imbecile, but the reality is that I am "the weaker partner" (New International Version, 2011, 1 Peter 3:7). I need care and support because I really can't do life on my own. It's just the way God made me. God, in his grace, gave me a husband who can do these things, but communicating it is a whole different struggle.

Support and care are both important in a marriage. What they mean, though, can differ by spouse, and by relationship. We are figuring out what they mean in our marriage. We are discovering that the same word can mean different things. Maybe eventually we will get on the same page, but for now, we are trying to learn how to honor our differences so that we can love well, and love better. To God be the glory.

Sometimes You Have to be Cold for Jesus.

My grandfather baptized me in the creek near our home when I was somewhere between the ages of eight and ten. I remember wading out into the chilly water, shivering while he gave his brief talk. Somewhere in there, he said, "Sometimes you have to be cold for Jesus." I am not really sure why he said that, and looking back, I am not sure where he was in his own relationship with Jesus at the time. Still, those words stuck with me.

I thought of those words they day I found myself shivering at the graveside of a college friend's grandmother. I had driven my friend and I there in a borrowed car. It was rather outrageous thing to do, but I believed that God wanted me to do it. So I did. Sometimes you have to be cold for Jesus.

I have been in relationships and relational settings where people were cold. When called to be there, though, faith compelled me to stay. Sometimes you have to be cold for Jesus.

Two of our elders at church recently preached from Hebrews 5:8, about how Jesus learned obedience through suffering. Jesus, perfect though he was, had to gain the experiencing of earthly suffering in order to be a perfect substitute for our sins. He probably got cold in his 33 years of life on earth, and her certainly experienced frigid responses from people.

Being cold in a temperature sense, or even in a relational sense, is small suffering compared to what Jesus suffered on the cross. It is "light" in comparison with the persecution believers endure around the world. Still, it is a struggle, and one that reminds me that following Jesus is a choice. My baptism was my confession of my choice, and to this day, those words, "Sometimes you have to be cold for Jesus" remind me of it.