I've been thinking a lot about love in the past few months. I'm not sure why, exactly, and my thoughts have taken a number of different directions (with an almost equal number of minor epiphanies). For now, though, I'll just share yesterday's.
A few nights ago Isaac and I were joking about some little thing he'd done wrong or in a way that irritated me or some other such nonsense -- really, it was so insignificant that I can't remember what it was, and we were laughing at the time, so I promise I'm not awkwardly alluding to some big marital spat -- and he shook his head and said, "I must be so difficult to live with!"
"Oh, everyone is difficult to live with," I responded.
"Not you, honey. You're great!" was the answer. He was sincere in his own masculine way, of course, but let's be honest: I have enough self-awareness to know that I am, in fact, extremely difficult to live with sometimes. (And I do think that most people must be, because we're human.)
Anyway, fast-forward a day or two, and I have this incredibly bizarre dream in which I'm telling my grown daughter (who is having a big marital spat) that since her husband is not beating her or having an affair, she has no cause to leave him. Assuming that he is also not leaving, she can either make it hard for him to love her (by nagging, and being resentful, and all of the other emotionally manipulative things women are prone to), or she can make it easy for him to love her (by not doing those things, and serving him joyfully instead).
How weirdly wise is that?
I'm jumping to the end here, but I can't remember all of the fast-flying thoughts that led me to a conclusion. It went something like this: Isaac has made a covenant to love me until we die. I trust him, so I believe that he is going to continue loving me no matter how awful I might be acting at any given moment. So I can make it easy for him to love me and keep his covenant, or I can make it hard for him to love me, and thus require him to make sacrifices (of peace, of feeling respected by his wife, things like that) in order to keep his covenant.
I can't say I've ever thought about it before, but I'm guessing that if pressed to give an answer to "what sacrificial love is," I would have said things like, "I give up my sleep and my free time for my children." "I followed my husband to Baltimore even though I was happy in Cincinnati." "I put beans in our chili even though I hate them, because that's how Isaac likes it." Etc.
Notice the common thread? Those are all things I have had to sacrifice. I hate to admit this, but it seriously never occurred to me that other people might have to make sacrifices in order to love me. Because I am eminently lovable, right? Uhm, wrong. I'm difficult to live with. We already covered that. But my bizarre dream-self was right: I can choose to make it easier on people.
I have a not-so-sneaking suspicion that I am discovering a whole new layer of "how not to be selfish." Did I put it into practice this evening when I was tired and hungry and Owen had been crying for an hour? Absolutely not. My eyes have been opened a little wider to the people around me, though, and I'll pray that my little epiphany pops into my head at just the right moment in the future!
A few nights ago Isaac and I were joking about some little thing he'd done wrong or in a way that irritated me or some other such nonsense -- really, it was so insignificant that I can't remember what it was, and we were laughing at the time, so I promise I'm not awkwardly alluding to some big marital spat -- and he shook his head and said, "I must be so difficult to live with!"
"Oh, everyone is difficult to live with," I responded.
"Not you, honey. You're great!" was the answer. He was sincere in his own masculine way, of course, but let's be honest: I have enough self-awareness to know that I am, in fact, extremely difficult to live with sometimes. (And I do think that most people must be, because we're human.)
Anyway, fast-forward a day or two, and I have this incredibly bizarre dream in which I'm telling my grown daughter (who is having a big marital spat) that since her husband is not beating her or having an affair, she has no cause to leave him. Assuming that he is also not leaving, she can either make it hard for him to love her (by nagging, and being resentful, and all of the other emotionally manipulative things women are prone to), or she can make it easy for him to love her (by not doing those things, and serving him joyfully instead).
How weirdly wise is that?
I'm jumping to the end here, but I can't remember all of the fast-flying thoughts that led me to a conclusion. It went something like this: Isaac has made a covenant to love me until we die. I trust him, so I believe that he is going to continue loving me no matter how awful I might be acting at any given moment. So I can make it easy for him to love me and keep his covenant, or I can make it hard for him to love me, and thus require him to make sacrifices (of peace, of feeling respected by his wife, things like that) in order to keep his covenant.
I can't say I've ever thought about it before, but I'm guessing that if pressed to give an answer to "what sacrificial love is," I would have said things like, "I give up my sleep and my free time for my children." "I followed my husband to Baltimore even though I was happy in Cincinnati." "I put beans in our chili even though I hate them, because that's how Isaac likes it." Etc.
Notice the common thread? Those are all things I have had to sacrifice. I hate to admit this, but it seriously never occurred to me that other people might have to make sacrifices in order to love me. Because I am eminently lovable, right? Uhm, wrong. I'm difficult to live with. We already covered that. But my bizarre dream-self was right: I can choose to make it easier on people.
The beginning of the great sacrifice (that is, living with difficult me).
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