Husband vs God

In eight years of marriage, this is a first. When we were first married, we both worked third shift. One of us would occasionally take the last hour off work, head to the house, and prepare a surprise breakfast for the other to be welcomes home to. But always having lived with other people and now having kids. . . tonight's agenda seemed like a stretch. But by jove, if everyone else in the world can have the occasional quiet, romantic night in, why can't we?

I started by finding someone outside of the house to keep our kids. Overnight. On a school night. Check.

I swung into Wal-Mart and picked up some of our favorite snacks and beverages-- including the fancy-feeling sparking grape juice. I smile just thinking about sipping our plastic wine glasses with their bubbly purple contents-- pinky up :)

If you don't already know, we own our house with my husband's brother and his wife. They also have two kids. So to try having a quiet night, we would need to "gate" off our side of the house, and lock ourselves in our basement.

Anyway, once Rodney was done with lunch and back to work and the kids were down for their naps, I scurried around finding candles, a good picnic blanket, bowls to float my candles, a cup to fill my bowls (since my sink is too tiny). I gathered the snacks and wine glasses. I hauled down the TV and XBox with all the appropriate cables . . On and on I went. Running up the stairs and down the stairs.

Finally, everything was as ready as it could be. I cut out arrows to clearly direct my ADD husband as I waited for the kids to wake up so I could whisk them off to the babysitter's house. When they were finally awake, I discovered that Rodney had my only set of car keys on him.

*sigh*

No biggie. The babysitter was able to drive out and pick the kids up, and Rocky Rococo's (Rodney's favorite pizza joint) delivers. Crisis averted. EXCEPT that he happened to be working at our company's warehouse at the time, which is right next door. He didn't see the kids get carted off, but he did catch me with the pizza delivery boy (so scandalous!).

I knew I had been spotted, so I rushed back down to our room, lit the remaining candles, set up the meal, put on soft music, threw on my best black dress, poured our "wine," and prepared for his arrival. I grew so anxious waiting, that I decided to pass the time journaling my excitement.

As I wrote, I could hear the distinct "fizz" of candles burning themselves out. But I was so excited that I didn't even care :) I just journaled away, writing about the movies we'd watch, the conversation we'd have, the thrill of trying to be sneaky about everything. I felt like I was a fifth grader again, writing about how dreamy Patrick Kenny was (and yes, I've been journaling since I was 10. There's some pretty lame stuff in there).

I finally heard the front door open and footsteps cross my paper arrows. Not just one set though. No, he had brought two employees over to the house. I heard one of them say something about "romantic night," to which Rodney replied, "No. No romance. The little ones are here." I just smiled at his ignorance, thinking about how pleasantly surprised he would be to come downstairs and find just a wife waiting for him.

The employees did leave, and he did come downstairs. He walked past me, sat on the bed, and, in reference to the warehouse, he asked, "Do you know what's going on over there?"

I could feel this was bad. "No."

He went on to explain to me about an extremely time-sensitive, several-thousand dollar item that he still needed to finish before he could be home from work.

I was stunned. All the giddy excitement rushed from my chest as I grasped for words that wouldn't be hurtful or destroy all I had worked to achieve. But instead of words came hot tears.

I told him I understood and that he could go. I could tell how miserable he felt about the whole thing. He was torn. He compared himself to a bad, CEO husband on a TV show who abandons his wife for petty work. And while I understood his inner struggle, and I sincerely didn't feel like he was being a "bad husband," I felt tremendous disappointment.

He left, and I sat alone in the candlelight sobbing. To the point where I didn't even understand why I was still crying. But the tears kept coming, and I let them. It's no good to hold things in at a time like that. There's no room in our relationship for me to harbor or to grow bitterness.

It was then that I was reminded of something I had read earlier in the week and had been trying to put into effect since. And that is that God isn't human (how's that for an epiphany?).

People, in general, desire to be fulfilled by other people-- especially in the case of our spouses. Whether we admit it or not, we have certain expectations. I expect to feel loved, appreciated, protected, valued, and so on. Men typically have the expectation to feel respected, cherished, honored, etc. When those things aren't met, we feel any variety of emotions: disappointment, sadness, anger.

What I read was encouraging me to think more along the lines of how unconditional God is. He always loves me. He appreciates that I keep the budget, because I'm taking care of what He's given me. He appreciates my making dinner every night, because I'm caring for the people He's put in my life.

When my husband is late, God isn't. When my husband unknowingly makes me feel abandoned or unloved, God doesn't. When my husband overlooks something I've gone out of my way to do, God sees it.

When I remembered all of this, I began to smile through my tears :) I decided to go back upstairs to snag my laptop while I wait, and share this with all of you. I hope in some way, it helps you in your daily walk with other faulted humans. They will fail. All of them. But God can't.