A charge to marriage

Husband,

One dozen years as Mr. and Mrs. Crozier! Remember our special day? How it poured down rain the entire day? (But why wouldn’t it? It was the middle of March, after all).

Remember how you beamed at me, when you turned around saw me for the very first time? If that wasn’t the look of deep smit, then I don’t know what is. 

We were kids, Graham, weren’t we? Kids dressing up all fancy-like and playing adult. Just look at how young we are!

Remember how one of my coworkers (who you had not yet met) was in the sanctuary helping with the flower arrangements before the ceremony? And she wondered who the kid was, beating out his nervous energy on the drum set. That “kid” was you, my love. 

When I think back to our special day, one thing that stands out to me is how I never second guessed. As a generally-anxious person, this is striking. You were the one for me and I had zero doubts about it.

I often try to find the words to describe our life together and always come up lacking. We have weathered some painful hardships. Like waves of a storm, our challenges have threatened to crush us as they crash against the side of our boat. We’ve rocked and thrashed around in the mess, some years wilder than others. We've blown a few holes and our vessel has undergone some damage. But do you know what makes me so, so proud? What causes me to fall more madly and deeply in love with you with each passing day? Instead of pretending the squall isn’t there, blasting through life as if nothing is wrong, we’ve acknowledged our storm and called for help. 

Could two people possibly be more different?

It's not every guy who can live with a sometimes-anal-retentive neat freak who thrives in extremely orderly environments, plans everything ahead, and who has no taste for the unknown. But you do. Your go-with-the-flow attitude remains (mostly) unperturbed by my complicated ways. You loosen me up and help me live outside the box. Life is so much more fun with you.

And not every girl could live with a guy who regularly loses things, lives wholly in the moment, and can’t keep track of time. But I do. My knack for organization provides stability and structure that helps you keep track of your belongings and gets you where you need to be on time. Life isn’t so chaotic having me around. 

There have been times where I’ve wondered how a girl with anxiety and OCD tendencies lands herself with a guy with ADHD (and vice versa). How do we not drive each other absolutely insane? In truth, we do, sometimes. Like the time a few years ago when I left for a few hours to take a much needed “sanity break” from the kids. I needed some quiet to relax and gather my thoughts. You and your dad were in “project mode,” gearing up to install board and batten in our entryway in my absence. Imagine my surprise when I came home to find construction dust everywhere, the hall only partially finished, and a new gaping hole in the wall of family room. I will never know what exactly went down that day, but partway through the board and batten project, you lost interest and decided to spontaneously remove the brick fireplace that you loathed instead, an endeavor we had neither discussed nor budgeted for. Needless to say, all the restorative relaxation that had occurred while I was away that afternoon vanished instantaneously.

Then there was the time when two of our towering arborvitae bushes that border the neighbor’s house began falling over, their roots unable to hold themselves vertically any longer in the swamp-like conditions that was our backyard. Again, I was out of the house “relaxing” and returned to find that not only had you removed the 2 plants that were leaning, you’d also assisted in felling the remaining 5 bushes that made up the only privacy barrier between our yard and the neighbor’s. Now we had a prime view of his gnarly mess of overgrown blackberries and unkempt backyard. Oy vey! Those were some rougher days that at least I can look back at and laugh about now.

You were in for a lot of surprises too. Being married to me must’ve felt at times like you were standing 8 feet from the end of a fire hose, tasked with the impossible job of collecting every last drop of liquid blasting toward you at full force. But the substance rushing out of the hose wasn’t just water, it was tears. Every time something in my life didn’t go according to plan, I struggled. Some of the time my upset was directed toward you. Some of the time it was directed toward someone or something else. But all of the time, you found it bewildering. I possessed So. Much. Emotion. And what was most baffling to you was that my level of emotion never seemed to fit the “crime.” It was hard for you to fathom how your arriving home late and neglecting to tell me or forgetting to take out the trash like you said you would should land you with a sobbing wife. 

From my end, these little “missed” interactions began to have a cumulative effect. It was really hard for me not to take these behaviors personally. I couldn’t reconcile how things were playing out. If I asked for something from you and you agreed to it, and then neglected to follow through, what did this mean? The only way I knew to categorize these confusing exchanges was to determine that you must not love me or you must not care. I couldn’t figure out why else this would keep happening. It was extremely painful.

From your end, you were trying so hard. There were so many expectations for you to keep up with and it overwhelmed you. You were not ignoring my requests intentionally. You adored me and so desperately wanted to please me. But it felt like an uphill battle. Keeping track of things was always something you struggled with. If there wasn't a reminder right in front of you, you would forget. You grew tired of being told you failed again and you withdrew. Who wouldn’t, when told perpetually the ways they don’t measure up? 

I didn't always want to have to remind you. It felt like it didn't "count." I wanted you to show forethought, that you were thinking of me and my needs. This became our vicious, awful cycle - you feeling overwhelmed and like you could never be good enough, me feeling unloved and unseen and confused as to why you couldn’t just remember to do the things we’d agreed upon. 

Oh my gosh did things ever get messy. There was so much hurt, so much confusion, so much defeat and sadness for both of us before we realized what was happening. It took us nearly a decade of marriage before we finally recognized and accepted the dynamics that were operating between us. Our brains are wired differently and we have a couple legitimate third parties operating in our marriage relationship. Symptoms of ADHD and OCD/anxiety constantly threaten to sabotage the bond that we’ve built. But now that we know to call out these symptoms and behaviors and name them for what they are? Oh the relief! We can get on the same team and fight against the symptoms, and no longer against each other.

The work that we've done in our marriage has been such a long process, one that we are far from being perfect at. But we're getting better, quicker at recognizing when we have fallen into our "cycle." It has taken two committed participants, each willing to step into the mess, flip over the rocks and expose the nasty critters hiding in the darkness beneath. We've fought a lot, cried a lot, and clung to each other even more. We drive each other mad sometimes but oh how desperately we need each other, to round out our sharp edges and find a middle ground.  

I am so, so proud of us. But we remain afloat. We have ridden our waves, clinging to the promise of hope for new mercies again in the morning. There is no one I’d rather have in this raft other than you, Graham. Happy 12 years!

Eleven years

Eleven years ago, I married the man for me. Looking back now, I remember very little about our first few years together, aside from a handful of struggles that no newlywed would ever forget. There are times where I wonder, what was it that we wrestled with in the day-to-day, during that season when life seemed simpler?

It appears the size of our challenges grow as each year passes, doesn’t it? We have more responsibility now, more influence, more resources, more offspring who have joined the party. Suddenly more humans are impacted by each choice we make. For us, it’s these three adorable people that he and I created.

But it isn’t just the struggles that have increased in size. Our hearts have grown too. Hindsight reveals just how little we knew each other when we were first wed. We were just babies in love, with hardly a care in the world when we said, “I do.” Now we’ve covered more ground. We’ve seen more sides to each other. We’ve peaked at the dark nooks and the crannies and have tasted the things we’d once kept hidden. Years together will do that to you, revealing the inevitable that can only be kept concealed in the short term. The more surface area exposed, the more space there is to love and embrace one another for all that each of us are. As our struggles grow and change, so does our love for each other.

I’ve spoken into his life and helped certain areas thrive and he’s done the same for me. Pieces of us have shrunk and others have expanded. We’ve changed shape as a unit. It’s this dance that we do, an extra give here and then some take there. Sometimes we are coordinated and sway in rhythm, but oft times, even with years of experience under our belts, we are clumsy and step on each other’s toes.  

When I first envisioned marriage, I thought there would be a lot more uninterrupted, leisurely conversations and a lot less bickering over half-finished projects, who cleaned the toilets last, and whether it makes logical sense to put an area rug under our dining room table. (What, to sop up the milk spills? I’ll let you take a wild guess who stands where on that one). I pictured a lot more walks on the beach together, more romance, and that we would have the energy to pursue each other well without planning three weeks in advance. I assumed our relationship would deepen without effort, that we would grow closer naturally and not further away. I anticipated weekly date nights over weekly evenings spent in therapy. 

No, this place we find ourselves, it doesn’t look the way we imagined. It never does. But do you know what else I never foresaw? The beauty and affirmation that arrives wrapped within the embrace that follows a moment of raw vulnerability. Or the joy the stems from having a built-in best friend. Or the privilege of being my person’s number one cheerleader. The pride that comes along with having an automatic front row seat as I applaud him in his accomplishments. The immeasurable connection experienced when there is physical intimacy. Or the glow I feel, knowing I am absolutely adored. And finally, the security of commitment, of choosing to love one another, faults, shortcomings, failures and all, every single day.

These are the rich, rich gifts I never knew I would receive in marriage. 

Happy 11 years, Graham. To God be the glory! 

May our love grow evermore. 

A tribute to their Dad

Happiest of Father's Days to the guy on the left, my kids' amazing Dad. 

When we took the plunge into to parenthood, I had no idea what it would look like for my husband to step into his new role as "Dad." 

But let me tell you, he is ROCKING it. The photo above was taken mere moments after he became a father. Just look at his sweet grin as he gazes at our eldest! He is so proud of her and it shows. What has surprised me most about his fatherhood journey has been how naturally everything comes to him. Prior to starting a family, I never really saw Graham around kids, let alone babies, but it wasn't long before I began referring to him as the "baby whisperer." The ease with which he has taken each of our children (and others' children) into his arms leaves me in awe every time.

He is calm and fearless and very little fazes him. These are awesome qualities to have in a father. He approaches life with ease; my how fiercely he loves his brood! When our second born was terrifyingly ill and re-hospitalized as a newborn, he was both a rock and a safe place, tenderly loving and deeply bonded with his sick infant daughter. It was a moving moment for a mother to witness. Graham isn't afraid to show emotion and I am proud that our kids will get to learn from him how experience and show emotion with confidence. What a gift!

I told Graham many-a-times in those first few years of raising girls that he was made to be a daddy to daughters. But now I know he's absolutely made for parenting a boy as well. Just look at the way he is beaming (above) when he held our newborn son for the very first time (above). I can't even. He's smitten.

Graham is the best partner to have at my side. During the infant years, he was always the more patient one when it came to getting a baby to sleep. When I had done and had it, he would step in and send me to bed, replacing my frustrated exhaustion with a fresh willingness to rock and bounce and rock some more. Whether it was sleep-training or binky-eliminating or some other insanity-inducing parenting tactic we were taking on, Graham always formed his stance confidently. Still to this day, he stands unaffected by what those around us our doing; he does what he believes is best for our family of five. 

If you were to ask the kids some of their favorite things about their dad, I'm sure the following would make the list:

-how he tells amazing stories about "Long John Sliver"

-how he plays the "Speckled Frogs" song on the piano while they jump of the living room furniture, er, I mean lilypads

-how he snuggles them

-how he writes songs about tractors and combines that now the whole family knows

-how he takes them on zoo adventures

-how he makes them "flat pancakes" and lets them eat Nutella with reckless abandon

-how he helps them with the hard math problems on their homework

-how he takes them swimming and stand-up paddleboarding

There are days where it feels as though he and I are just plain missing each other on the parenting front. Our desired approaches can be so different that at times it is hard to imagine it's the same thing we want. In our exhaustion, we can cut and tear down the ways of the other. We can argue and disagree and debate over how to train and raise up and parent these souls who have been entrusted to our care. It is easy to get lost in the fog of busyness or get sink ourselves in the harmful trench of the "It's my way or the highway" kind of attitude. 

Yet when I pause and step back, I am always reminded it is the very best for our kids that we are both after. The picture of "very best" that I have formulated in my mind might look different than the one he sees. But it is this same goal we are after. WE ARE ON THE SAME TEAM! We are fighting together against disconnection and disorder and hurt and pain, and fighting together for connection and order and joy and love. This, my friends is a very, very good thing. And there is no other man I would want raising my beautiful brood of three.

I've heard it said before, "The greatest gift a father can give his children is to love their mother."

I absolutely could not agree more. And Graham nails it with this one.

In front of our children, he compliments me, woos me, touches me, prioritizes me, dates me and affirms me. It is one of the most beautiful things in the world to be loved by a man and have your kids stand witness to it. In a culture that prioritizes parenting over marriage, kids activities over date night, it's no wonder we struggle with disconnection and a lack of intimacy.

So to all you dads out there, I leave you with this, your Father's Day charge: Love your wife. Tell her not just that you love her but also that you cherish her, that you adore her. Pay attention to details, to the intricacies of her day-to-day. Date her, prioritize her and see her. This is your challenge.

And to all you mama readers out there, you get a Father's Day charge as well: Honor your husband and sing his praises. Set the housework aside for a moment and focus on him. You may feel tired and exhausted and so totally done, but dig deep for a minute or two to hold him and tell him all the reasons you think he is an amazing dad. Remember that he is on your team. Notice the ways he is supporting you. 

Happy Father's Day to all you amazing Dads out there. You play such a special, formative role in equipping the next generation and so many little eyes are watching you and following your lead.

And a special shout out and HAPPY FATHER'S DAY goes to my main man and the love of my life! THANK YOU for being on my team. I would have it no other way. 

The vine and the branches - part 2

(...continued from part 1 here - if you are just now joining, click on the link and read the preceding post.) 

Our prayer for 2017 is for health for our entire family - body, soul and mind. We are working toward healing in some areas where there has been much hurt. This is involving a myriad of interventions - lots of conversations, medication trials and counseling. And prayer. Loads and loads of prayer from the amazing people that have been walking alongside us. 

In thinking about healing, this process of becoming healthy, I couldn't help but note that healing unarguably first requires seeing. And this word "seeing," at first blush, sounds so very passive. For example, we see when our eyes scan a room upon entering, taking in the sights. We see when we glance up from our work to determine what the movement was that we caught out of the corner of our eye. We stare at our phone screens in front of us and we see. 

But how often do we really, truly see? 

As my pastor recently described it, we truly see when we become aware of the potential in someone or something and then we notice the gap between where that person or thing could be and where they actually are. It is when we notice this discrepancy that we really, truly see. When we see in this way, it is natural that we mourn. It hurts to stand witness to what could be yet is not. In our fallen world, real seeing is cause for pain. Every earthly thing will always fall short. And so we mourn. 

But Matthew 5:4 says "Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted." 

I never really understood why those who mourned could possibly be called blessed. It sounded like a downright depressing place to be but maybe that was because I didn't have the full picture. First we see. And that seeing leads to mourning. And then mourning leads to comfort. And the cycle continues. 

When I broke down earlier this week, it was the result of one of these moments where I was able to truly see. I had caught a glimpse of what could be for us and yet the reality of my circumstances clearly illustrated how far we still had to go. And so I mourned. I saw the treacherous nature of the path before me and I didn't want to walk it. Here I thought we'd scaled the major peak, only to get to the top and discover it was merely the first hill in the vast Alps around me. I wanted to plop down right there and call it quits. I was done, so totally tapped out. With each step of forward progress it seemed we were making, there were another five taking us backwards. I was discouraged beyond words. 

I was trying to get ready for the day and, as if on autopilot, my hands fumbled mindlessly after that gold branch necklace.  

"I can't do this," I cried, pouring my heart out to God as I gripped the jewelry and let the tears flow. 

I looked down to see the necklace in my palm. I hadn't been thinking clearly. It was as if my subconscious had landed it there. Why was I choosing to wear this piece, this piece that had been gifted to me as a representation of each member of our family? I peered closely at the gold representation of a tree branch in my hand, thick and strong at it's base, with 5 little offshoots splaying outward from the source. The words of John 15:5 began running through my mind:

"I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me, and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing."

"Apart from me, you can do nothing." The words ran through my mind again. I was right. I couldn't carry the load of all I was facing on my own. No one could. And so "Where is God in this?" is the question we find ourselves asking. Often we don't get to know all the details. But scripture tells us that He is there, even when we feel raw and alone. Even in these moments of seeing and mourning, I was reminded that he is our source, our very lifeblood. All of our existence is fully dependent on him. 

I love this new and deepened meaning that my necklace took on for this week. I know now that it was no accident that it ended up in my hand and later around my neck. From here on forward, the branch will not just represent each member of my precious family, but it will also serve as a reminder to me of where our strength comes from. Christ is the source for me, my husband and my kids. The health and well-being of my family is not dependent on me.

I see and because I see, I mourn. The hurt remains but my load has been lightened. I know I am being held fast in Christ and, in that, there is great comfort. So what's in all this for you, dear reader? My prayer is that somewhere in this mess of words, your soul would be touched. That you would be moved to have eyes that truly see. That you would mourn each time you recognize the gap between what could be but isn't. And then that you would find comfort, deeply rooted in Him, the vine and our sustenance. In seeing this way, I pray that you would draw closer to the very heart of God, knowing that he longs for what could be exponentially more so than we could ever imagine. It is in these moments of complete brokenness that we catch glimpses of the depth of his never-ending love for us.

The vine and the branches - part 1

Ever since having kids, jewelry has increased in meaning for me. I remember when I was about 10 years old, trailing along behind my dad as he strode through the mall with sights set on Ben Bridge. My siblings and I were all with him the day he selected the special piece that featured all our birthstones. We came home that afternoon with a small, velvety box, giggly and suspicious as we did our best to keep the "big secret" hidden. We were proud and confident that Mom was receiving The Best Mother's Day Present Ever that year.

As I became a mother myself, it seemed like a natural rite of passage that I begin dreaming of my own piece of jewelry to feature my kids' birthstones. I was thrilled when BOTH my girls were born in the month of August. How perfect for Graham!? He could buy me a pair of green peridot earrings and call it good - two for the price of one! But then baby number three came along in October, month of the opal, and all plans were spoiled. Suddenly the idea of combining gemstones no longer seemed quite as appealing. A pearly opaque opal paired with sparkling lime green? A quick Google image search confirms this idea to be ill-advised.

So I switched gears and got on a stacking ring kick. My kids' names are each only four letters long so would easily fit engraved across a set of textured stacking bands. I envisioned something delicate and stylish, truly one of a kind. I sent Graham links periodically leading up to Mother's Day, subtly hinting at the idea. He didn't bite. The man doesn't like to be told what to do and let's just say planning ahead far enough in advance to arrange for personalized jewelry isn't his spiritual gift.

Instead, in his very Graham way, he came up with his own idea and presented me with the beautiful gold branch necklace pictured above.

"It has 5 limbs," he told me, "one representing each member of our family."

He said he hoped to get our names engraved on each branch someday. 

"I guess this means we're sticking to three kids then," I joked.  

It was no set of stacking rings but I loved it anyway. What made it special was that it was his idea and it meant a lot that each of us were also represented. Plus, the more I think about it, birthstone jewelry really isn't my style.  

Over the years, my jewelry collection has expanded. Most of the pieces hanging in my closet have a deep meaning behind them which really speaks to me. Many of them are stunning creations made by the amazing Rebekah Gough at Rebekah Gough Jewelry (though the branch necklace actually is not one of them). Sometimes I swear between my husband and girlfriends, we keep her business running! A few years back, Graham gave me her "Mama Bear" necklace to represent the fierce dedication with which he tells me that I mother. Then a generous friend at my Bible study spoiled our entire table the "Free Indeed" necklace that I talked about here. It has since become my theme piece for the year. In August, I received the "Circle of Hope" necklace, a most thoughtful birthday gift from some of my closest girlfriends who have been walking alongside me in the midst of this really hard season.

It is really only in the last half decade or so that I have begun wearing necklaces with any degree of regularity on the average day. I do it less so as an accessory and more so as a symbol. What I choose to wear around my neck is selected with great intentionality and serves as a reminder of the truths I want to live into on that particular day. So when you see my neck adorned in that delicate gold circle, chances are I awoke that morning needing to remember that I have hope. When it's the little bear with the word "mama" engraved across it, you'd better believe I'm feeling discouraged in my parenting and desire to dig deep and give my all to my littles.

Earlier this week, feeling weighted down from a tumultuous weekend, it was the gold branch necklace that I reached for. I had just stepped from the shower where the floodgates had come loose. Tears and suds mixed and swirled together down the drain as I sobbed and cried out to God. 

The Mr. and I are doing a lot of hard work in our relationship as a couple (which I wrote about in a prior post), and as individuals, and that leaves us feeling at times very tender. We are both carrying heavy loads. I wish I could share all the details for this to make more sense but we just aren't there yet. So I'm gonna divulge what little I can using broad brush strokes and pray that God makes sense of these words and uses them somehow. 

(to be continued....) 

Me and my best friend

I've been venturing into this new year slowly. I always love the idea of having a fresh start, a new number on the calendar on which to make our mark and begin compiling memories.

Honestly, it isn't hard to bid goodbye to 2016 for either my husband or I. I can only speak for myself but it was by far my most painful year to date. The Lord decided it was time to do some deep soul-work in my life, in my marriage and in my family. We've been slowly, painfully, peeling back the layers, one at a time, digging for the roots. There were countless occasions when I was sure I'd finally reached rock bottom and then I'd drop down one more notch. We dusted off some conversations that had long since been tabled. We began wading through unchartered territory, exploring new areas never before discussed. We have been learning, exposing, accepting, healing. This is the journey of marriage and relationship, is it not?

In so many ways, I have felt laid bare, embarrassed, ashamed. I have had many-a-moment when I was sure there was something undeniably wrong with me. I was confident I was the sole reason for our challenges. My anxiety, my baggage, my inner wirings resulted in any and all dysfunction in our relationship - emotional, physical and everything in between.

The beginning of our unveiling happened back in March of 2016. We found ourselves sitting in our parked car, outside a restaurant. It was supposed to be date night. It was date night and here we both were, crying. Moments of deep connection had grown rare in the hustle of life. So much so that, when they did happen, they were often accompanied by tears. Without fail, these tearful conversations took place when we were out and supposed to be "having fun." Our running joke was that it wasn't really a date night unless one of us cried. That sounds so cynical but I know so many of you can relate. Amidst the pulls of parenting, the frequency of interactions where we truly see one another on a heart level grow increasingly rare.

And so here we were, crying in the parking lot and unsure of where to go next. Little did I know at the time that the feelings I had just shared would send us both on a trajectory toward healing. First total unraveling and later, strengthening, slow repairing.

I'd finally spoken pure, unadulterated truth. I'd uttered words that I'd previously danced around, mentioned vaguely and wrapped up in all sorts of different packages in effort to cushion the inevitable blow I knew they would cause. As I wrote about in a previous post here, love, as I perceived it, was dependent upon my performance. If my performance or my person was unappealing in any way, I feared the love I would receive would lessen. If I confessed what really, truly ailed me, I feared I would lose the love of the one I cared for most. The words I shared there in the parking lot that night reflected, not anything that I'd done per se, but rather completely exposed my inner workings, the struggles that plagued me, things that I wanted desperately to change but couldn't. I knew the words would be crushing to him but something (some might call it the grace of God?) pushed me to say them.

Looking back I recognize this as a pivotal moment in my journey toward realizing that:

Healing cannot happen until the depth of the injury is fully understood.

That evening was so painful. Eventually we did go inside the restaurant where we hurriedly choked our way through dinner. We'd gone to the trouble of hiring a babysitter after all. We attempted to hide our puffy red eyes from the waitress in the dim lighting. We kept all remaining conversation at surface level to avoid further tears. I don't think either of us slept very well that night.

But can I tell you something? That evening, the honesty and then the pain that we both experienced became our catalyst for change. They marked my initial baby step toward experiencing real, true freedom in the sense that I believe God intends. It was because of that hard conversation that we decided to finally take action. We'd encountered some deep, deep hurts that were beyond our level of expertise to address. So we found ourselves a therapist - one who specializes in our area of struggle and one who loves Jesus and one who loves us. Like really, truly loves us. She is for us as individuals and as a couple like no human I've ever known. In many ways, she is for us more than we are even for ourselves. She has very much been the hands and feet and eyes of Jesus to us this past year and there is no doubt in my mind that God placed her in our lives.

I have refrained from sharing this tidbit of information - this fact that WE have been undergoing marital counseling - from the world for nine long months. Part of this was out of respect for my husband. I couldn't share until he was ready because it was both of our journey after all. But mostly I was afraid of what people might think. I knew firsthand of the cultural tendency to cast judgment when we hear about someone getting "help."

I recall the first time a couple in my life went to see a marriage counselor. I was just a kid, their babysitter, actually. I was very perceptive and not much was lost on me. I knew something was awry as they were no longer living together. I gladly watched their kids for pennies; they couldn't afford to pay me any more than that and my parents and I had established this could be a way I could help someone in need. Sometimes after putting the kids to bed, I would do her dishes or fold the laundry. She begged me not to but the state of affairs in her house spoke to her overwhelmedness. I couldn't help myself. My parents had raised me right and I'd been trained to always leave things cleaner than upon my arrival. She would come home and immediately spy the wet spot at the waistline of my t-shirt and exclaim how I'd disregarded her words and washed the dishes anyway. She seemed relieved and at the same time embarrassed. As a mom now myself, I know she was both.

I was still a child, maybe technically a "tween." I didn't know what it meant that this couple was separated. No one really explained it to me. Their circumstances felt foreign and confusing and scary. All I knew was that everyone seemed to use hushed tones whenever this couple's "situation" was mentioned. They went to our church, which didn't help matters any. It was almost as if there was this belief that somehow by loving the Lord and attending church, one magically became (or should become) immune to relational challenges. As I understood it, the mere fact that this couple needed counseling indicated that their marriage was on the rocks, that hope for them was all but gone. It wasn't perceived as a positive step for them - more like the nail in the coffin of a relationship everyone assumed was dissolving.

So naturally, when later in my adulthood, my first married friend was honest enough to share with me that she and her husband were struggling and had begun seeing a counselor, I gulped. I feared the worst. I'm ashamed to confess that I judged her inwardly, wondering how she could possibly let things get so bad.

Now I can barely even read those words in that last sentence, the sting of them is so great. I was utterly naive; I had no right. I hate that my first thought was "Certainly they won't last." I assumed they had done something and that things must be REALLY terrible in order for them to seek help. This was how the world worked, was it not? The naysaying voices from legalistic Christianity taught me no different.

Looking back, I wish so desperately that I would have high-fived this friend instead. I wish I would have told her what a brave and honorable and strong endeavor she was undertaking to seek help. Instead, I did what my culture had taught me - I feared the worst, judged, and assumed divorce was inevitable. Oh how I wish I could have a re-do! Hindsight is often 20/20.

This year we have spent in counseling is by far one of the best hardest things we've ever done. We have looked closely at our insecurities, our upbringings, our belief systems, our shortcomings and our strengths. We aren't going because we aren't sure we want to be married anymore. Nothing could be further from the truth!! We started going because we were both hurting desperately and we knew God had more for us, that the pain we were experiencing was never his intent for marriage. We are going because we are two very different people with different needs and struggles and inner wirings who are trying to become one.

At many points it has felt so uncomfortable and uncertain - much like how I imagine it would feel to look straight down the barrel of a gun. In order to begin the process of healing, seeing ourselves and each other the way Jesus sees us, we've had to sit in these really hard places. The truths we've discovered have been invaluable. We've connected in ways we never have before. We are both learning that we can say hard things to each other and be OK. I've realized that his love does not waver based on the things I say and do; speaking truth and voicing my own desires and needs does not lessen it. This realization is freeing beyond belief. In the past year, I have seen the depth of Graham's love for me in ways I never could before. The man adores me. This I know beyond a shadow of a doubt and it's an amazing feeling.

We are two people who give and receive love in very different ways. But even more than that, we are two people who care about each other so deeply that we refuse to stay the same. We recognize that having a thriving marriage takes a lot of work. We realize we came into it with so many misconceptions. We have discovered that some of things we thought would come naturally, instead take a lot of painful effort. Hand in hand, we are walking this journey together.

We want to raise our kids knowing that, in this season, Monday nights are for counseling in the same way that Saturday mornings are for working out. We don't ever want them to feel ashamed to ask when they need help. We want them to grow up knowing we invest our money and time into the things we are most passionate about and one of those things for us is our marriage. When they belt out in the middle of Starbucks "Is tomorrow when we go to counseling?" (which has happened, by the way), we don't want them to experience even the slightest twinge of embarrassment.

We have so much work ahead of us still. We always will. It's the nature of two becoming one on this broken earth. Challenges in marriage are absolutely inevitable. Having a 3rd party (who has both of our best interests at heart) has helped us tremendously as we've waded through some very vulnerable places this year. So, I would like to re-frame the idea of marriage counseling for any who might feel terrified by the idea, much like I once was. What if instead of trying to correlate a couple's need for counseling with the health of their marriage, we simply applaud it as a commitment of two people who are unwilling to stay the same and who desire change? What if we celebrate a willingness to seek counsel as a sign of a partnership where truth is spoken and hard stuff is addressed rather than swept under the rug? What if instead of shaming people for getting help, we encourage them and support them and cheer them on in it? This is the world I dream of living in someday.

Though I would never want to walk through the dark places that we did in 2016, I recognize their necessity and celebrate the growth that is coming out of them. We are saying the hard things, expressing our fears without concern that they will alter the depth of our love for each other. We are working on intimacy. We are becoming healthier. We are connecting.

Healing cannot happen until the depth of the injury is fully understood.

This is truth. And we are slowly getting there - to the depth of the injury. We are beginning to understand why we respond in the ways that we do. We grieve for all the pain we have experienced yet we celebrate the fact that we love each other now more than ever. We are acquiring new lenses - God's lenses - through which to view our marriage. And I am experiencing new freedom to be truly and wholly me, even in the context of my own marriage. This March we will hit a major milestone - our 10 year anniversary - and you better believe we'll be celebrating our socks off!! God is still writing our story and we don't know what 2017 holds for us but we trust the words of Philippians 1:6 that "He who began a good work in you will carry it on until completion until the day of Christ Jesus."

Amen? Amen!

Mountains and Molehills, a marital tale

We had a marital breakthrough this weekend. Please adjust your expectations if you are anticipating something huge. For us however, it was monumental.

Last year for Christmas, I was gifted the most amazing handmade giant cork board for my kids' art. My brother-in-law modeled it after this one created by some of my favorite home designers at Young House Love. The cork board resided un-hung and propped up against the wall in our bonus room for approximately 343 days, not that anyone was keeping track or anything. Eventually, after it capsized upon and literally took out a toddling one year old neighbor boy (who was over for the first time ever and who's mother I was hoping to befriend!!!), I resorted to storing the thing behind our large bookshelf lest it fall upon any further children.

Over the course of the year, I made quite a few casual remarks to my husband in hopes he would read my mind and mount the darn thing.

"Hey, it'd be nice if we got that cork board hung."

"I wonder if we could get that thing up on the wall this weekend?"

"Yeah, we had a good day today. Oh, except for when the cork board fell over on Henry during our play date. That part wasn't so great. We should really do something about that."

Secretly or maybe not so, I hoped he'd take the bid in my passing comments and take it upon himself to dig out the level and screw the board onto the wall. Certainly, I could do it myself. But I didn't really want to. For some reason the task filled me with massive amounts of dread and I just wanted him to take care of it and in doing so, take care of me.

Did I ever voice this wish? Not in so many words. I have a really hard time stating my needs. Often this is because I struggle to even identify what it is that I need in the first place. It's hard to ask for something you yourself do not know. But even when I do finally figure out what my needs are, actually communicating them to anybody gives me pause. I don't want to be a bother. I want to be independent. I feel undeserving of the kindness of others. I want to look like I'm "all good" and I have it all together. I feel very small; why would my needs matter?

This has been a long-time challenge of mine; it's how I have operated for as long as I can remember. I want those around me to just know what I need and then to step in and meet those needs. Somehow if I ask it of them, it robs the act of some of it's sincerity and meaning. They must not really care if they can't see the need and then fill it for themselves. I'm learning I have wasted a whole lot of time wishing and hoping those in my life would "figure it out," all the while, growing more resentful and bitter as each day passes that they don't.

How has this approach worked out for me? It hasn't. Bitterness and resentment are tough beasts to tackle and I'm sorry to confess that both have reared their ugly heads in the story of my marriage. The results have been messy and it's taken a lot of hard and painful work this year but what I'm learning, and yes maybe even now finally accepting, is that when it comes to my marriage, I need to voice my needs! Revolutionary? Probably not for everyone. But if you're one who struggles with your needs, it's a game changer. I have learned that not only do I need voice my needs but I also need to be exact and very, very specific. I cannot expect my husband to meet my needs if I don't first make them known to him. In all areas. Also, and arguably just as importantly, I need to give him the opportunity to meet my ask with a resounding "yes!" AND I also need to learn to be OK with matters in the inevitable times when his answer is no. That is really tough work, y'all.

So back to the cork board. This past weekend I decided it was high time that the thing got hung. We are hosting a family Christmas party in a couple of weeks and the whole propped-behind-the-bookshelf vibe the cork board's been sending was cramping the bonus room's style. I don't know why it took me nearly a year to straight up ask my husband to please hang the board, but it did. Maybe it was by the grace of God that it took so long. Lord knows had I asked him earlier in the year, I would have done so in bitterness and the whole thing would have blown up into a fight. Maybe that thing spent 343 days propped up on the floor because that's how long it took me to finally learn the lesson I needed to learn in all this. Whatever the case, flash back to Saturday morning when, on a whim, I decided to implement some need-voicing techniques I've been learning. We were just finishing up breakfast when I threw my request out there:

"Hey Babe. I would love to get the cork board hung this weekend. I want it done right so it will involve going to Home Depot to purchase dry wall screws. Is this something you are willing to take on?"

There. I'd done it! I'd done my part and stated my need. I could tell immediately the hubs was not a fan of my goal for the weekend. If it is possible for one to groan silently, that's most certainly what he did. The ship was sailing south so I added an addendum:

"You don't have to do it. You are allowed to say no. I'm just putting it out there because I need to know your answer so I will know where to go from here."

And believe it or not, I actually meant every last word of what I said for once. I wasn't being manipulative. I was truly going to be OK if his answer was "no." I was hopeful for a "yes" of course, but I wasn't going to let this turn into a fight if this wasn't a task he wanted to take on. He had a right to say no; the cork board belonged to me. I'm a tough cookie and I've wielded a drill before. I could certainly do it again. I just needed to hear from him whether he would do it for me or if I should proceed with establishing a plan B.

He sat there at the kitchen table with my request for a couple of minutes. I excused myself to begin clearing the dirty breakfast dishes while he considered. Suddenly, he stood and bolted for the garage, returning moments later with the drill in hand.

"I will hang the cork board for you," he announced. His tone had changed and the look of dread had disappeared from his face. He continued, "Can you please be in charge of getting new lampshades for our lamps?"

My back was turned, hands deep in the suds of the kitchen sink. I couldn't hide my grin. Nothing sounded more appealing to me in that moment than acquiring new shades for our sorry-looking lamps. The task was long overdue; our lampshades had been in a cracked and sorry state for years. It was a job Graham had attempted unsuccessfully a few times and he was ready to pass it off to someone with fresh energy for it.

"I'd be happy to," I replied.

And truly I was. Though the hunt for lampshades would arguably take hours longer, it didn't feel burdensome in the same way that the hanging of the cork board did to me. I was giddy as I went about with the rest of my morning. It worked! We did it! We had each stated our needs and were prepared to accept any outcome - either a "yes" answer or a "no." In the end we got the best of both worlds - two yeses and with them, freedom from the tasks that had been weighing on us most.

I wonder how many times have we landed ourselves in fights that could have been avoided had we just voiced our needs from the get-go? It sounds so ridiculously simple but all you married folks know how marital discoveries are a lot of times like that - so basic it's almost laughable that you've missed it all this time. And I'm finding this need-stating business to be just as vital in the physical and emotional aspects of our marriages as it is in the dividing and conquering of daily household tasks and chores.

A few months back, my husband was leaving for work in his typical fashion. Usually this includes a quick kiss goodbye and a "Have a good day!" as he runs out the door. But on this cold, fall morning, I was feeling particularly tender. We'd had an emotional conversation the night before and I was still working through it in my head. Any time we have a disagreement or a tense discussion, my default is typically to jump straight to the extremes. Lies like "He probably is going to quit loving me" or "He's realizing it take so much work to be married to me and pretty soon he's gonna decide it just isn't worth it" jump to the forefront of my mind. I know in my deepest core that these extreme thoughts couldn't be further from the truth, but knowing this does not prevent the thoughts from welling all the same. So I am working on having a stern dialogue with these voices when they begin their mental diatribe.

On this particular Thursday morning, I was hovering in one of those tender, lie-filled places. I couldn't stop the voices and I needed my husband's reassurance that we were OK. I needed us to repair. I needed to know that I was loved, wholly and truly, high levels of emotion and all. So when he came to me that morning, sitting alone in the living room, and pecked me quickly before running for the door, my heart sank. The kiss felt like an obligation and I needed to know I was a priority.

I could have sat there on the couch and sulked gloomily all day, feeling sorry for myself, upset that he didn't see me in my moment of need, that he didn't walk over to me and tell the lies off. But in a rare moment of clarity, I didn't just sit there quietly. My head must have been screwed on straight that morning because my mind jumped to doing something that was most unnatural for me.

Tell him what you need, I thought.

It sounded so straightforward and silly and frankly flat out obvious. But clearly stating my needs in the moment had not been my default mode of operation thus far in our relationship so the idea felt like a "light bulb moment" for me. I knew I needed more than a passing kiss and I knew that I needed to be explicit about it. So explicit that I felt a little ridiculous even. Enough with the guessing games.

Tell him what you really want. To the very last detail. 

"Graham!" I called. "Wait! Come back here please."

He was already halfway out the door but he stopped and turned to look at me.

Tears were welling in my eyes as I told him "I need you to come over here and look me in the eye and then cup my face in your hands and kiss me for 10 seconds."

I wish I had a picture of his face, a face that all morning had been one of serious focus, a man running late and on a mission to get out the door. At first he was taken aback, my request so specific and unusual and so very out of the blue. I don't blame him for wondering if I was entirely serious. But one look at my eyes brimming with tears told him all he needed to know: I was absolutely serious. His face warmed, first into a cute little smirk and then progressed quickly into the most adorable "Aww shucks" sort of full-blown smile. His thoughts of work and being late had vanished and I had his full attention. I'd made my bid and now the ball was in his court. The expression on his face read like a book: Now THAT is something I can most certainly do! And he did. He shut the door firmly and gently approached me and executed each step of my request to a tee.

I couldn't put a price tag on the worth of that moment of re-connection if I tried.

Did I wish he would have thought to look me in the eye and kiss me slowly all on his own? Well, sure. That certainly would have been nice. But a dose of maturity and 10 years of experience in the marriage business has taught me that he can't read my mind and it is unfair of me to expect him to. He knew I was down that morning. And he also knew he couldn't do anything to remove the problem completely. But what he didn't realize was that I wasn't asking him to. I simply needed him to show me he was still WITH me in the storm. His slowed-down kiss and focused attention communicated just that to me but I never would have received it had I not stopped to ask.

This happens so often in marriage - little mole hills of disappointments, unmet desires and unstated needs begin to accumulate. Soon enough time passes that the pile of "dirt" is no longer just a little mound on the surface of the earth. It has grown in size and strength and it isn't until all the individual instances are lumped together that one realizes that they have expanded into a full blown mountain of resentment, a precarious barrier between us.

What is the end result when we operate this way? Well, I can tell you. Disconnection. Hurt. Pain. We don't speak our needs and then we feel ignored and abandoned and he is left spinning his wheels and taking stabs in the dark. He grows calloused to trying because past experience has taught him that it won't fix the root problem anyway. Opportunities to fulfill even the smallest of bids are bypassed because we know we will never be able to satisfy the grand ones. We fear rejection and so we neglect even to make bids, to put it out there and say what we are longing for and what we need. We give up before we even start.

At no point was it our intent for this to happen. It never is. We didn't plan to withhold our needs. We weren't consciously keeping them a secret. Maybe we didn't speak them because we were so buried in our own web of insecurity that we didn't even know we were allowed to voice them. We didn't realize they mattered. Maybe we didn't say anything because we felt guilty for having needs in the first place. The household already had enough of them - who were we to add any more to the mix? Maybe unknowingly, we'd surrendered to the idea that our needs were automatically trumped by those around us when we added the title of "mother" to our name. Or maybe we refrained from stating our needs because we were so overwhelmed by daily life that we couldn't spare the time to stop and sort through the chaos long enough to even identify them.

I have been in all of these places. And I can tell you, dear exhausted and weary wife, your needs do matter. I'm willing to bet you married a gem of a man, just like I did. I imagine he adores you and cares for you more deeply than you will ever fathom, mess and all. This is a hard concept to wrap our minds around when we feel as though we spend our days stumbling through motherhood like walking balls of chaos. But these men, these dear sweet husbands of ours, they don't see us that way. We are every bit as worth it to them today as we were on the day they asked for our hands. And maybe even more so. 

I can't help but think of the ever-changing tides of our emotions as women, particularly in the wake of the early parenting years, these years most of us spend flailing wildly in attempts to right the ship that has shipwrecked us into this thing called motherhood. I know I for one, have not journeyed this course gracefully and I can't imagine it has been an easy thing to watch. I wonder how often our husbands feel helpless as they stand witness to our wrestling, wanting so desperately to make us happy. When we are hurting, I wonder at all the times they long to make the pain go away, but their efforts get lost in translation, washed away and unseen by us in the currents of life. I imagine how overwhelming it must feel for them, this innate desire they have to "fix" it all, how that must just feel impossible.

So speak your needs to him. He needs to know. And he needs you to be gosh dang specific. Surrender to the fact that he's not going to anticipate them on his own, at least most of the time. He's just not. I took the hard road in this area of my marriage for far too long and didn't go so well for me. I urge you to spare yourself the hurt and clearly lay it all out for him. Don't allow the molehills to become mountains.

If you, like me, have never been much of a need-voicer, this is going to be uncomfortable territory at first. But I can tell you the work is worth it. And if you don't know what it is that you need right now, it's OK. I've been there too and I know it's a very anxiety-producing place to be. Give yourself some grace and time to ponder it. Work to identify the things that make you come alive and also the things that drain you. Make them into lists and then come back together with your husband and have conversations about them.

So whether you need a cork board or a kiss or something much, much bigger, it matters. Name it.

I See You

I heard her approaching on the stairs. I was alone, reading in bed - a truly divine rarity! It was early but not that early. For some strange reason, my children hadn't yet barged into my room to greet me for the day by informing me that they had no clean underwear or that we'd run out of postage stamps. My husband had already vacated the bedroom, readying himself for work. I felt a little like I was in hiding, savoring the moment, unsure of just how long the peace would last. I could hear him clunking around in the kitchen. Cupboard doors opened, the fridge door slammed, and then the shrill sound of the coffee grinder. Interesting. He doesn't use that coffee grinder for his coffee. I broke into a silent grin. This is sounding good. 

Stairs creaked. Footsteps. And then this:

My eldest rounded the corner carefully balancing a hot cup of joe, my life blood, and one of my favorite parts of the morning right now. She held the mug out towards me and said something that melted me entirely:

"Daddy says to tell you that he sees you."

With that, she handed me the coffee and exited the room, simply the messenger, completely unaware of the depth in her message.

I couldn't stop the tears. My husband, he sees me.

I sat in bed for a good long while, savoring the moment, letting the happy tears fall. We've been working hard on this lately, he and I. We've been exploring what it means to really, truly see the other.

I thought they said year 7 of marriage was supposed to be hard but it's definitely been year 9 for us. And I think with good reason! We've been living a crazy life. First with dual income, condo-living and lots of travel. Next came baby-making and grad school (his first day was when Isla was 4 weeks old!!) And then more baby-making and grad school and working full time. And then, as if running on repeat, we went on another round of the baby-making/working and grad school cycle. Then we threw in a new job followed shortly by the sale of our condo, an excruciating house hunt and finally a new house which we subsequently tore apart and partially remodeled.

We've been living in the middle of a whirlwind for most of our married life and, up until this year, didn't really feel we had the option to stop and breathe. Now we are in this weird-to-us space of being parents and spouses without the added stress of the pursuit of a master's degree or a home. Now that there is the potential for us to actually have free time, we are a little lost. I imagine it is similar in some ways to the empty nesting phenomena. So much energy is focused elsewhere and then, wham! You look and each other and think "Where have you been all my life?" 

So here we are, wondering what the heck just happened over these past 9 years. In a sense, we are letting the dust settle and spending time working to reconnect. We aren't the same people we once were when we were young and childless. Some of our passions have changed. What speaks to our souls is different now. The bottom line for me is that I have a longing to be seen, for him to know the inner-workings of my day, for him to anticipate my needs.

My counselor is helping me weed through what that means exactly for him "to see" me. It is easy to make vague generalizations of what I want but I've really had to spend some focused time chewing on this idea so I could offer up some specific how-to's to Graham. I've had to catch myself when I find myself unfairly wanting him "to just know."

Girls, our men need specifics. They just do. So let's stop with the ambiguity and give it to them straight. It may sound silly but one of these tangible ways I've discovered that makes me feel seen by my husband involves coffee. It isn't in Graham's nature to think to bring me coffee. But I love coffee. And I drink it every day. And so it speaks VOLUMES to me when he makes it for me. I think he thought I was kidding when I told him he could see me by bringing me coffee. And so I brought it up approximately 5 or 20 times or so in a variety of ways.

"You know, you could bring me coffee sometime."

"Hey it would mean a lot to me if you brought me coffee."

"I know this might sound random but I keep fantasizing about you bringing me coffee."

"I LOVE COFFEE!!"

Ok, you get the point. And he did too. And just like that, I feel amazingly, fabulously seen. With something as simple as having him make me coffee. Could it really be that easy? Well no, probably not. But it's laying the foundation. And you know what else? My husband has been paying attention. I've been working a lot lately and *ahem* our home life is suffering to say the least. I've mentioned (ever so casually of course) how I was about ready TO LOSE MY EVER-LOVING MIND if our pantry looked liked this for another second.

And then one day I came home from work to find the shelves baron, thanks to my husband. During another one of my work shifts, he tackled the garage that we were no longer able to maneuver due to the amassing of bicycles and remodeling supplies. Need to access something in that there freezer in the background? Aww, yes. Hold on a minute. No biggie. It just involves backing out 5, no wait, 6 (!!!) bicycles, a lawn mower and two strollers. Then after you trip over the garden tools, you should have free and clear access, no problem-o! I had a literal partial heart attack every time I went out there (which was approximately 17 times a day). It's a miracle I'm still alive, really. But I digress.

So yes, as of Saturday afternoon, we can now park not one but TWO cars in our garage and I'm hoping to keep it that way!!!

These are some very real and tangible examples of what it means to me for my husband to see me - coffee and cleaning. The two big C's for keeping the crazy out of Kelsie. We've been married 9 years but the learning curve is constant. We are two ever-changing, very different people doing our darndest to love on each other in a way that resonates with the other. He adores me and I him. This marriage journey tho! It be hard stuff. And it takes a whole lot of really hard, really awesome work.

Have you thought much about what makes you feel seen? Rather than pouring our energy into tracking all the ways our spouses or friends aren't seeing us (guilty here for sure!), what if we paid attention to how they are seeing us? Or what if we spent a few minutes identifying some tangible, specific ways they could see us and then offer them up? Novel idea, eh? It sure was for me.

What does it look like "to see" you?