I forgot to tell you guys about a little incident that happened last week when I was getting ready to ride my bike…
My bike is on my husband’s side of the bed, tucked into a bay window. Before I became the workout-queen you see before you, my bike served as his very convenient clothes-horse. Pants draped over the back…shoes arrayed around the bottom… Cammies hanging from the handlebars. Now since I started working out, he has mostly stopped with the clothes. I think I’ve had to move them once. But the shoes…the shoes have stayed and brought friends. They don’t block the pedals, so technically they’re not in the way. But I like –space–around me. Every time I came to ride my bike, I moved his shoes. I figured he would get the message and start putting them somewhere else. (if you’re married, you already know the likelihood of that) On this particular day, I had had it. Loafers, cowboy boots… I picked em up and hurled them across the room! And in my mind I began composing the calm and reasonable lecture discussion I would inflict on him have with him when he got home. You’re not being very considerate or supportive blocking my bike like that. I would think you would want to encourage me - not hinder me. I mean really, don’t you want me to… It was right about at that point that I actually got on my bike. And then I saw it. A tiny little hot pink post-it note with four little words scrawled on it. I’m proud of you! Gulp. Sob.
He can put his shoes wherever he wants.
The story could stop there. But there is an epilogue that I think I need to share with you. As you might expect, I was absolutely delighted with those words of praise from my husband. He is not a “words” kinda guy. He almost never praises or compliments me. And he almost never leaves me little notes, which are WAY up there on my list of favorite things. (he’s a great husband - don’t get me wrong) So this note meant the world to me in more ways than one. But then a little voice started to say strange things to me. Something like You know…he never says he proud of me. He’s never been proud of my singing, or my jewelry making, or my blogging - not even when I won a BOB award last year. He’s only praising me now because I’m losing weight… oh yeah. That’s all that matters. Losing weight. I knew he would love me more if I were thin. What a jerk. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you from whence that voice came. (I smell sulfur, do you?) And God was merciful to me, because I started to laugh. And I told Satan that I wasn’t going to listen.
And I had a thought I’ve never really had before. I thought that, when you get down to it, there’s really not much for my husband to be proud of in my singing and stuff. I mean, that stuff just flows out of me. I don’t have to work at it. (I’m not aiming for cocky here - just being honest) I love artsy craftsy activities. I don’t work at them - I play at them. This weight-loss thing…with all this working out and eating right - this is work! There is much more to be proud of as I go against my nature and aim for change.
Then I asked myself this: Wouldn’t you be really proud and excited if Danny started doing something artistic - like wood-working, or trying to play an instrument? Where exercise and physical activity come naturally to him - the arts most certainly don’t. Yeah, I’d be thrilled. So I have no reason to be surprised that he is excited about my doing something that falls more within his area of interest.
Anyway, don’t know if that’s useful or not… But I thought you might be interested! And I’m going to frame that note!
Ahhhh, what a neat story. I, too, would have had that little voice pipe up from the recesses. You are so smart to smack it and listen to the “how to make a happy marriage” voice. I truly think this is the voice of reason!
Comment by Christine — August 22, 2006 @ 4:04 pm
Oh, I got a tear in me eye. Awesome=)
Comment by lady laura — August 22, 2006 @ 5:27 pm
Great story! And great lesson. It’s the things that we have to “work” at that really mean the most - and where we can see God at work the most (and what satan really tries to break down the most often). Thanks for sharing!
Comment by Anita — August 22, 2006 @ 6:22 pm
awww!! that is a neat story!!
Comment by Maria — August 22, 2006 @ 6:49 pm
Oh that’s awesome Blest! I love it! I knew where you were going at the end before you got there….was thinking that myself during the whole “sulfurous speach” lol.
Loved this, glad you shared it!
Comment by blair — August 22, 2006 @ 7:21 pm
That’s cool.
Comment by stephanie — August 22, 2006 @ 8:31 pm
This is just more evidence of the “Men are like waffles…women are like spaghetti” stuff. I read this aloud to a girl at work and we were cracking up. I too have gotten so upset with my husband (usually over a minor thing) only to feel like a big marook because he did something incredibly sweet. Thanks for being transparent with us…
Comment by Mandi — August 22, 2006 @ 10:07 pm
How sweet, what a good man!
Comment by Angie — August 23, 2006 @ 7:26 am