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No More Hide and Seek

I'm a pretty even-keeled person, but once in a while, something will happen that will trigger and then override my usually polite self.

My husband says I let things build up and then one silly little thing will set me off. The proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. For instance, when I feel peopled-out (meaning it's been several days since I've had any time to myself) and my daughter, or an acquaintance, or my mom asks me to do something for them, I explode. Okay, so it's more like I implode. I don't kick and scream.  I shut down. I cry. I lock myself away and refuse to see anyone. 
Through my husband pointing this out to me, the Lord has been teaching me to be aware of my emotions, and more importantly to submit my emotions to Him. It's been a lesson in trusting the Lord with my most vulnerable self. He is teaching me to run to Him even when I don't feel like it. And that is very hard to do for this "I'll figure it out myself" person…
Recent posts

Becoming Me

A few years ago, I came to the realization that I was a Christian, a writer, a worshipper, and an outdoor lover long before I was a wife. And while my role of wife is an important one, it's not my only identity. I had at first been so caught up in attending to all my husband's needs and following his dreams, that I had neglected my own. I was burned out and bitter. It was mentors and writers, like Sheila Wray Gregoire, who inspired me to balance my identity as "Sarah: the writer, the Jesus follower, and the outdoor lover" with "Sarah: the wife." This blog is just one result of that balance.

I am super excited to now be partnering with Sheila and her team! She's the author of the book, The Good Girl's Guide to Great Sex. (Check out my affiliate link below.) Her articles have both challenged and encouraged me. She has more to say on the topic of being a "perfect Christian wife" in her article:

I Am Not Just a Christian Wife, I Am a Christian

Brave

Oak paneling. Leather chairs. Sweet pipe smoke intermingled with the richness of men's cologne. The sound of raspy voices sharing stories and the occasional deep-voiced laugh. Somewhere in my mind, there is a memory of a place like this. A place my dad used to go when I was a child and I used to love to follow. A place whose very walls could tell stories of danger, and romance, and heroism. It's a place where you could breathe in the very essence of masculinity and camaraderie. I felt small (in a good way). I felt safe. I felt brave.

When we were courting, I used to feel that same way with my husband. Everything he did was amazing, and there was nothing he couldn't do. But too often I've allowed life to suck the wonder out of our relationship. What happened? Where did the danger, and romance, and heroism go?

It is still there, but I have failed to see it. I have forgotten how to see the knight in shining armor, and only see the knight who leaves his armor on the floor an…

Through New Eyes

Over the last few years, we have had many new friends over to our house for dinner or games. It always pleasantly surprises me when they comment on something that has all but become invisible to me. They ask me about where that picture was taken, or who painted that piece, or where did we get that desk, and as I tell them the funny or sweet story behind each object I realize what a rich and wonderful marriage we have had. 
My husband and I have moved so many times in our short marriage, that we have had to leave behind anything that isn't useful or sentimental. And we've had days when we could barely buy a gallon of milk, much less buy a new piece of furniture. So our home has become a fun, albeit eclectic collection of curbside finds and going-away gifts. Even as I sit in my dining room writing this, I can see easily see a dozen things that have been given to us or made by us. They are a constant reminder of how much we are loved and how many memories we've made together. 

Unloved

About 2 years ago I wrote a post about my struggles with not feeling loved by my husband. During this time, the Lord led me to a group of mentors that helped me get my footing again in my marriage. Some of these mentors were people I met in real life, and others, like Jolene Engle, were people whose stories, books, and teachings I listened to online. Jolene's words were hard to hear at first, because I was so deep in my own self-pity, but as the Lord softened my heart, her words became life-giving. She really tackles the hard, heart issues in marriage and I am the better for it. The link to her article is below:

10 Reasons Why a Husband Isn’t Loving His Wife with Christ-Like Love


Alone

I love my alone time.

I love time to write and color and think and read and talk to the Lord. 

I love stepping on a trail, swimming, and taking baths because it's all things I can do utterly and deliciously alone. 

It's funny that at one point in my life I thought that when I got married I wouldn't need alone time because I'd be able to share everything with my soulmate. But the truth is quite the opposite. Unless I am alone for a time, unless I have the freedom to be myself and with the Lord, I am no good to be with others. Especially not my husband. 

I have to be alone, because if I'm not, I look to my husband to fill all my expectations. I look to him to give me attention all the time, to listen to everything I have to say, to be everything that I, unrealistically, want him to be. I start to get disappointed when he doesn't get home early, or if he goes to bed before I do, or if he simply leaves his dirty socks on the floor. 

I have to be alone so that I can be t…

Tall, Dark, and Handsome

Me: "What's your type?"

Him: "Whad'ya mean 'type'?"

Me: "You know...type. Everyone has one. Do you prefer a blonde, a brunette, a ginger? Athletic? Short or tall? Quiet or talkative? Artistic or nerdy?"

This was the conversation my husband and I had on a long car ride once. A lot of laughter ensued, as well as a few new realizations.

I discovered, much to my relief and amazement, that I was indeed my husband's "type"--dark eyes, olive skin, and, ahem...curves. And to his surprise and amazement, he found that physically, he's not my "type" at all. Not to say I don't find my husband physically attractive--I think he's a total hottie!--but it's just that his build and features were not what I would have looked for when I was dating. 

Him: "So what is your type, then?"

Me: "Honestly? Um...ok, I got it. Think Hugh Jackman in the Wolverine movies. Dark, broad-shouldered, mysterious."

Him: &quo…