When I don’t sleep with my husband, I get angry. God’s design for intimacy in marriage.

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i have an awesome husband.  but we have had many moments in our marriage that i thought were worth quitting over.

and the thing is, when rich and i don’t get those quiet moments in the evenings after the kids go to bed and before the sun (or josephine our 8-month-old) wakes us…if we don’t get those quiet moments together, something happens.

i get angry.

my mind has no filter, so it catapults through the past.  and all of the hurts. and all of the pain.  and all of the frustrations.

my heart says forgive.  my god says forgive.  my mind says, “remember…”

and then i get angry.

i remember so many reasons why he has made me angry over the years.

and i remember all of the pain that we have endured.

and i remember that i was mad.  and i willingly choose to relive them.

THIS is not as god intended.

god is very clear about being still.  he is very clear about knowing that HE is god.  he is very clear about taking time to fast and pray.  he is very clear about resting.

and yet—sometimes in our marriages we forget that our marriages should be a reflection of the love that god has for us in our lives.

one of intimacy.  of knowing him.  of spending time with him.  of grace.  mercy.  acceptance.  forgiveness.

the list goes on.

and yet, in my marriage, we sometimes forget to take those moments to be still.  to spend time together.  to talk.  to touch.  to extend grace.  mercy.  and forgiveness.

did you know that there are days when rich and i fall asleep on the couches downstairs with josephine in her rocking cradle?  and the three of us sleep in the living room.  separately.

it’s not that we didn’t get rest.  we slept.

it’s that rich and i did not get rest together.

we were separate.  we were not together.  we were not in close intimacy where we could extend a hand or the touch of a foot and know that the other was right there.

when rich travels (and he did a lot this past year), the intimacy was kept alive in the desire for him to return home.  in the thoughts of his embrace.  in the excitement that he would soon be near.

but after returning home and settling into the exciting mundane of what it is we call life, we see that exhaustion pulls us apart as easily as thousands of miles or continents.

but it’s worse.  because we are so close.

and so arguing ensues.  and squabbling ensues.  and lack of self control with our words ensues.

and misery ensues.

i told my husband, it’s enough.

i need him every day to sleep with me.

and nearly every day we find the time—that one peaceful moment in time—to read our bibles together.  and pray together.

and we hold our hands.  and we close our eyes.  and we pray.

it’s better than any television show.  it’s better than any facebook post.  it’s better than any youtube sensation.

because it’s intimate.  with my husband.  before our god.  together.

during those times is when my heart is reminded that i can overcome the past and move forward into our beautiful future.

together.  with my beautiful husband by my side.

at the start of this article, did i say quitting?

i meant, our marriage, it’s worth fighting for.

but not as two…as one.

“So they are no longer two, but one.”

Matthew 19:6

 

Get off me, Richard. It’s not Father’s Day!

So I awoke early in the morning.  I am a nursing mom, you know.  Hence my early morning alarm clock, also known as Josephine, letting me know that she has done me a favor and slept all night.  Now it’s my turn to return the favor and feed her.

I nudge my husband awake…he slowly starts to move and then gets out of bed, grabs Josephine, and changes her diaper.

It’s not crack of dawn, mind you, but it feels like it, even though the sun is streaming through our blinds.

During the weekdays, it’s easy—-er to pop out of bed because the luxury of sleeping longer is not afforded.  But when it’s the weekend, for some reason, the sunlight does not mean get up.  The sunlight is an intruder to your “off” time.  Therefore making it harder to get up.  And it also makes it harder to feed your hungry infant (smile and wink).

But feed her I did.  And, like a good little girl, she went back down after eating.

Problem.  My husband figured since I was awake and all 3 children were in bed AND it was the weekend-which meant not the normal flurry of early morning get up and go activities-it would be a GREAT time to cozy up and, you know…

Um, perhaps he forgot one thing about the day—and the title of the day is:  Mother’s Day.  My one day of R-E-S-T.  Rest!

And so I did what any exhausted mom would do on her special day as my husband is trying to pursue a make-out session.  I gently reminded him with those “I am sleepy” karate chopping shoves and kicks that even though he is all hubba-hubba hot stuff, today, of all days, was my day.   Mother’s Day.  Not Father’s Day.

The difference you might ask.

Sleep for Moms.

Play for Dads.

If it wasn’t for all of the play—I wouldn’t be celebrating Mother’s Day.

Now it’s time for rest.

 

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