a little different
We sat around the tv with a group of friends; some old, some new. We were waiting in great anticipation for what we hoped was going to be the Broncos' second amazing win over the course of eight days. We are true residents of Tebow Country, this group.
Chips and queso, green chili, pizza, bite-size candy bars...a recipe for great food for a great evening. The game began and only two minutes in, we knew we weren't going to get what we hoped for. Little boys were trying to humor the little girls, and the little girls were playing with iPads and remote control cars. The men were making jokes about all of the news headlines that displayed this game, and the women made jokes about the week at work, and how you get to be a real shouter only after you've had a couple kids.
Alex sat behind me, partially excited, partially preoccupied. I sat quietly realizing my eyelids were pulling shut with each passing minute. And we just weren't us. We are sports people. Last year, I bought him tickets to basketball for Valentine's Day and tickets to baseball for his birthday. And I did neither of these selflessly. I enjoy all sports and especially the ones with roaring crowds and animated scoreboards. I love the camaraderie we share as Colorado residents for our Broncos and Rockies and Nuggets. And I bought those tickets knowing we'd create some awesome memories.
But tonight, we just weren't there. I don't usually shout and cheer, but there was absolutely no hooraying out of this girl. And Alex is usually most frustrated at a game. He's very relaxed everywhere else, but a missed pass or a free-throw short of the basket will throw that guy into a tantrum. And I was disappointed. Disappointed that we weren't enjoying this thing everyone else was so looking forward to. I was disappointed that we just weren't the same couple.
And it wasn't until the next morning that I realized we can't be, we won't ever be. The entire reason for this stormy season was to change the people we were and to change what our walk with God looks like. If we had gone through all of this, fought our way out of that entire thing for no reason, no change at all, what would be the point? If we hadn't found ourselves in completely different skins, wouldn't I be more disappointed that it was all for nothing?
I drove to work this morning dreading my work day. And this is just nearly unfathomable because this job was my entire everything about a month ago. But I wanted to be at home, with my husband, laughing and talking and laying around for the day.
And I hope he knows that it wasn't him who helped me be in love with him again. I hope he knows it wasn't the daily foot rubs (much appreciated, however), it wasn't the kindness and patience he displayed, and it wasn't even the fact that he stayed. All of these things are what remind me of his goodness, and how wonderful he really is. He had no reason to stay with me, none at all. And my gratitude for that is overwhelming. But it wasn’t any of these things that changed my heart and made me brand new.
I hope he knows that I appreciate those things, and I love those things, and I realize I don't deserve those things. But I hope he knows that he wasn't and never will be responsible for changing my heart. Because, then, he would have this enormous pressure his entire life. Pressure to keep my heart healthy and happy, pressure to make my life great. Instead, I want him to know that God has it handled, the pressure is off.
I want him to know that God does great work and that He'll continue doing that in me. I want him to know that his patience and kindness is all it takes-especially in my worst of worst, horribly moody days-and God will do the rest. I want him to know that I'm in this, regardless of how different we are and regardless of where God decides we will go. I'm in this for the sports cheering days and for the napping during touchdown days.
Chips and queso, green chili, pizza, bite-size candy bars...a recipe for great food for a great evening. The game began and only two minutes in, we knew we weren't going to get what we hoped for. Little boys were trying to humor the little girls, and the little girls were playing with iPads and remote control cars. The men were making jokes about all of the news headlines that displayed this game, and the women made jokes about the week at work, and how you get to be a real shouter only after you've had a couple kids.
Alex sat behind me, partially excited, partially preoccupied. I sat quietly realizing my eyelids were pulling shut with each passing minute. And we just weren't us. We are sports people. Last year, I bought him tickets to basketball for Valentine's Day and tickets to baseball for his birthday. And I did neither of these selflessly. I enjoy all sports and especially the ones with roaring crowds and animated scoreboards. I love the camaraderie we share as Colorado residents for our Broncos and Rockies and Nuggets. And I bought those tickets knowing we'd create some awesome memories.
But tonight, we just weren't there. I don't usually shout and cheer, but there was absolutely no hooraying out of this girl. And Alex is usually most frustrated at a game. He's very relaxed everywhere else, but a missed pass or a free-throw short of the basket will throw that guy into a tantrum. And I was disappointed. Disappointed that we weren't enjoying this thing everyone else was so looking forward to. I was disappointed that we just weren't the same couple.
And it wasn't until the next morning that I realized we can't be, we won't ever be. The entire reason for this stormy season was to change the people we were and to change what our walk with God looks like. If we had gone through all of this, fought our way out of that entire thing for no reason, no change at all, what would be the point? If we hadn't found ourselves in completely different skins, wouldn't I be more disappointed that it was all for nothing?
I drove to work this morning dreading my work day. And this is just nearly unfathomable because this job was my entire everything about a month ago. But I wanted to be at home, with my husband, laughing and talking and laying around for the day.
And I hope he knows that it wasn't him who helped me be in love with him again. I hope he knows it wasn't the daily foot rubs (much appreciated, however), it wasn't the kindness and patience he displayed, and it wasn't even the fact that he stayed. All of these things are what remind me of his goodness, and how wonderful he really is. He had no reason to stay with me, none at all. And my gratitude for that is overwhelming. But it wasn’t any of these things that changed my heart and made me brand new.
I hope he knows that I appreciate those things, and I love those things, and I realize I don't deserve those things. But I hope he knows that he wasn't and never will be responsible for changing my heart. Because, then, he would have this enormous pressure his entire life. Pressure to keep my heart healthy and happy, pressure to make my life great. Instead, I want him to know that God has it handled, the pressure is off.
I want him to know that God does great work and that He'll continue doing that in me. I want him to know that his patience and kindness is all it takes-especially in my worst of worst, horribly moody days-and God will do the rest. I want him to know that I'm in this, regardless of how different we are and regardless of where God decides we will go. I'm in this for the sports cheering days and for the napping during touchdown days.
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