When Your Love Languages Differ

Love languages are something I am constantly learning. Living with my parents taught me to look for differences in love languages and cater accordingly. Marriage is providing a new learning arena, teaching me that love languages differ not only in type, but also in expression. Admittedly, my husband and I have distinct differences in our preferred love language. Quality time is right near the top for both of us, however. I thought this would make sharing love easier. Nope! While we both value quality time, what quality time means looks different for each of us.

For my husband, as with many men, quality time means side-by-side. That means that eating meals together, watching shows, sitting at our computers is quality time. These types of activities don't make me feel loved, however. When I want quality time, I want connection, engagement, processing. I want to be able to share my heart and have my husband respond in part. But do I tell him that? No. I badger, nag, try to force him to engage in quality time the way I prefer. I continually and repeatedly tell him that I need time. He gets befuddled, saying we've had time.  It's a vicious cycle. 

I listened to a podcast recently about sticking together when the world falls apart. If the world we're living in isn't falling apart, I don't know what is. And my husband and I have committed to staying together through it. So we have to figure out this love language issue. The speakers in that podcast talked about meeting their spouses where they were, serving their spouses according to the spouse's needs, not their own. That is hard for me. When I am low, when I feel empty, quality time without interaction is one of the hardest things for me to give. I can serve. I can give gifts. I can encourage. But I struggle to sit. To be. To give presence. But what if that is what my husband needs? Do I love him enough to give it?

The speakers in that podcast also talked about the power of the check-in, of coming to their spouse with a stated need, and the other person making time to process that need. A simple concept, but hard to carry out. Something I am guilty of failing at, both in the asking and the receiving.

I've written about love languages before, but here I am again. Why? Because I am still learning. And perhaps you are, too. My husband and I have mismatched expressions of our love language, but we love each other. So we're communicating. Realizing that our love languages and our expressions of love differ. Practicing speaking each other's love languages, even if we don't get them right. Isn't that the key to language learning? Practice doesn't make perfect, but it does make better. And better is what we're after. Better. Together. Forever.

Born to Shine: Book Review

What do you do when you lose what matters most to you in this life? Do you wallow in darkness, or courageously struggle your way out into the light and shine? Ashley LeMieux has done the latter. After losing her two children to a contested adoption, Ashley worked her way through the trauma to become not only a better person, but a leader who encourages others. Born to Shine is her story, a story not only of recovery, but of hope, for if she can suffer as she did and rise, others can, too.

Born to Shine is not your typical story of redemption. Ashley's story doesn't have the happy ending she or anyone else would hope for. She and her husband became permanent guardians of two precious children early in their marriage, and after years of being a family, they decided to adopt them. It was at that point that they became “foster” parents and entered into a tremendously long court battle that ended in the children being taken away with a day's notice, and a day Ashley was away on a work trip to boot. Ashley writes about the pain of that day, but also the pain of wanting her children to eventually contact her, and that, too, having a painful ending. But through it all, Ashley has chosen to shine.

Born to Shine is part memoir, part self-help. Regardless of genre, it was hard to put down. Ashley's words were convicting, but also encouraging. The questions she asks of readers are thought-provoking. The story she weaves is spellbinding. Ashley writes with energy, even in the midst of pain, and the joy she shares is utterly contagious.

When I told my husband I cried while reading this book, he asked what it was about. “It's about a family who lost their children,” I said.

“Why would anyone want to read that?” He asked.

“Because it's a story of redemption,” I replied.

I, as a believer in Christ for salvation, see Christ as the ultimate source of hope. Ashley doesn't quite get there. Rather, she credits an undefined God with being part of the reason for her recovery. Still, I cannot help but wholeheartedly recommend this book. Maybe, just maybe, and hopefully, Ashley will write future books sharing more about her journey.

Ashley and Mike LeMieux lost their children. They lost two little ones they raised and in whom they invested their lives. The LeMieux's did not lose their lives, however. They did not lose their humanity. They have emerged from their darkness humbler, stronger, and more full of light than ever before. Their story is proof of the goodness of humanity and the resilience of the human soul, even in the midst of the darkest night.

*Note: I received an advance copy of Born to Shine as part of the book launch team, but received no compensation for my blog posts or opinions.

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Want to read? The book releases in paperback form October 8th, and you can pre-order now on Amazon.

And if you want to hear more of Ashley's story, I recommend her Sounds Good podcast episode.

If you want to hear more after that, consider the book launch tour coming to a city near you!

To support Ashley and her work, consider shopping The Shine Project or Ashley's personal fashion selection. (I personally ordered a dress from the later and very much like it!)