Priveleged

Of all the daily routines of marriage, one of them has to be the war against selfishness. After leaving our child-birth classes this past weekend, the battle commenced.

Let me start this story by saying that Lance grew-up eating every meal out as a child, Monday-Friday. This has created a monster. There is nothing more he finds pleasure in than eating out and I’m not joking. So as we are walking out of the hospital, it’s about lunchtime and he says the typical words, “Where do you want to go eat?’” To which I replied, “We just spent 200 at the grocery, lets just eat at home.” Now I’m not sure if it was him being tired, hungry, or just feeling an intense love for restaurants but it rubbed him the wrong way. To make it worse, I asked if he could run one errand with me first before going home to eat. He said, “I don’t want to run your errand if you don’t want to go out to eat. I don’t care if that’s selfish. I don’t see how you can get to do what you want to do and I can’t.”

He was right. It was selfish. I told him that I am so tired during the weeks and I do all the errands solely by myself and if he could go with me, it’d be one less thing for me to do and I wouldn’t have to do it alone. It’s not like I enjoy running errands more than he does and sometimes, it’s nice to have his help. Especially since I’m pregnant.

He drove me to my errand, begrudgingly. It wasn’t even that bad of an errand because we were picking something up for our baby which I think is fun. After that, I took the stance of apathy and went out to eat with him. We were quiet and angry up until we made it to the restaurant and we never talked about it again.

This morning was Sunday morning and it was Lance’s Sunday to preach. The neat thing about being a pastor’s wife is that your husband will tell stories about you and you’re in the front so everyone stares at you when he shares stuff to see your reaction. Luckily, nothing is personal to me. Luckily, he doesn’t have his own blog because I share on a much bigger stage than our church =0)

Usually I know what Lance is preaching about. He’ll come and bounce things off of me and sometimes he has me help him think of stories to share for application during his sermons.  This  Sunday, I didn’t know.

Fast forward to the middle of the sermon and he was talking about how it’s a privilege to serve Jesus.  It’s something we GET to do, not something we have to do.  He talked about a modern-day missionary by the name of Bernard who has spent most of life on the far edges of the earth away from the convenience of the states, from the comfort of home and utilities, from many of his loved ones.  When asked about his life and all he’s given up he says, “I never made one sacrifice.”  That’s because there is a big mindset difference between someone who looks at something as an obligation and someone who looks at something as a privilege. 

Then Lance began, “This leads me to a confession.”  Unbeknownst to me he started sharing the story about how he had acted the day before after leaving our child-birth classes.  Of course people started to look at me to see how I was going to react to whatever it was he was about to say. 

There I sat in the quiet stillness of the church with all eyes on me and there he stood in the vulnerability of exposing himself to the church from the stage.  Then they stopped looking at me.  They looked at him.  

His face turned red as finished telling how he acted the day before and his eyes welled up with tears and he began to cry with tears trickling down his face.  His voice quivered and he said, ” I remember when we first fell in love.  I didn’t HAVE to do anything.  I loved picking her up from work.  I loved running errands with her.  It was a privilege to be with the girl I loved and sometimes, after all these years, I find myself in selfishness and I forget that.  I GET to be with her.  I GET to love her.”

I could hear sniffles from around the church.  I couldn’t take my eyes off of him and I cried.  It was an intimate apology.  It was a reminder. It was my husband revealing the sincerest of love letters and regrets to me humbly in front of a crowd.  It was my husband standing before a whole church confessing that he had failed me and that he had forgotten.  Lance and I began dating almost 9 years ago.  Love changes over time into a deeper form of the date night butterflies.  But sometimes, in moments like that, it’s that glimpse into the face of who we started as that got us here to a man crying on the stage remembering the way it was to fall in love with your wife.  It is a blessing to fight for your marriage.  It’s a blessing to fail at it everyday and have the grace to remember how we should love each other.  Failing at loving each other and getting to love anew all over again is more romantic than a love unhindered.  Helping your spouse with dinner, folding his boxers, running in Walmart for groceries…on a Saturday, being a helper to your mate, supporting your spouse, taking care of them round-the-clock when they are sick, pulling weeds, turning off a basketball game at the good part or listening to your spouse read you parts from his favorite books time and time again. 

Oh the things we get to do.