To Love, Honour, and … Whoa!! … ‘say what??’ (A glimpse into our marriage, on our anniversary)

January 23, 2015January 23, 2015Splsh4Ripls7 Comments

Twenty-one years ago, today, I walked down the aisle of Countryside Mennonite Fellowship, alone, toward my ‘soon to be husband’. In our culture the father didn’t walk the bride down the aisle, back then.

I was on the verge of the most amazing years of my life, and making promises, most sincerely, with no concept of their experiential meaning. How could I? It was all new, uncharted territory. But I understood the words, and I meant every one. And I still do.

My expectation of marriage was simple: love and be loved. I had longed my whole life to feel safe, loved and valued, and that’s what ‘love and be loved’ meant to me. In this way, I entered marriage most practically, and that worked out well because my husband is a practical man. For Christmas, weeks before our wedding, he gave me an apron. He gave me some other gifts too, but it’s the apron I remember most. And I still laugh about it, just like I did then. It’s in my kitchen, having lasted all these years because I’m just not an ‘apron kind of girl’. My kids wear it, now end then, and always it makes me smile. Only recently I told them the story for the first time and one of my teens laughed at the idea of their daddy giving me an apron. “And it was free!” I added, drawing another burst of laughter. Tim had won that apron at a curling bonspiel. What else was he to do with it? The dusty rose colour, with quilted pattern, really wasn’t his colour.

We’ve never been the kind of couple to indulge in the constant spilling of endearing terms. We tried it. And we still do, on occasion, but it’s not really us. The most likely to come from me is ‘My Love’, and it warms my heart if it does nothing for his, just to say it, because he is my one true love. I’m crazy about this man I married. And sometimes I’m just crazy in a whole different way, and he still loves me. He calls me ‘Precious’ and ‘Beautiful’. But not often, and that’s okay. When he does my heart dances in a little flip-flop, all out of rhythm and off-beat, because I know he’s practical and there’s nothing practical about that language.

My favourite thing is when he squeezes my toes when he walks by our bed… or when he sees me coming, and positions himself with arms open, just because he knows how much I love hugs. Simply being held can make my very upside down world flip upright pretty fast, when he has his arms around me. And he knows it. When I’m sad, and he holds me like that and kisses my forehead, I know I’ll get through it. In these little ways he calms storms in my heart and my spirit, and offers security. Or when he randomly starts praying for me, and I don’t even realize at first that it is a prayer, and I’m about to ask, “What was that?” and then it registers, he’s praying… talking to God about me. When things are really hard and he’s praying, and says to God “Your daughter is tired”, or some such thing, I remember Whose I am, first and foremost. And I wonder if it makes God smile, just a little, to have Tim hold me up that way, as if reminding Him I belong to Him. Or maybe it’s Tim’s way of saying, “God, this one is over my head… You take it from here.” Either way, my heart feels safest in those moments.

Every day isn’t like that. Some days we are busy and forget these things. Some days we’re struggling through our own things, or in our relationship, and we overlook each other or take our love for granted. Sometimes we’re even cross with each other. Those days we have to work a lot harder at seeing all the wonderful and beautiful things God has blessed us with.

And then there’s the days when we flirt with each other all day long, in little ways… or maybe sneak in just one moment… Like last night. Tim looked at the wishbone on the window sill and commented on no one having made a wish. I liked the wishbone when I was a kid. We siblings tried to sneak it away to dry, because it breaks so much better, and I always loved that mom kept it. So I keep it too, most of the time.

“Let’s do it!” I said, picking up the wishbone and offering Tim one side. I made sure our grip was fair, and then we pulled. He won. That was my wish, that he would win. But I didn’t tell him that. I always make dumb wishes because I don’t believe in it anyway, and it’s more fun in my head. He smiled, a secret “I had a cool wish’ kind of smile.

“So, what was your wish?” I asked.

“I can’t tell! Then it won’t come true!” he said.

“That’s for birthday cake wishes,” I said. “It works differently with wishbones.” He looked skeptical and I tried to look as convincing as I could, to no avail. I kept asking, making flirtatious eyes at him…. I tried the sassy wiggle… But he just grinned and defended his position. And then I saw the twinkle in his eyes and I knew…

“Ha!” I said, “I know what you wished for!” I had been away for the weekend, and felt unwell upon return, and then was busy for a few days…. and each night we hit our pillows… “I know exactly what you wished for!”

“I’ll never tell,” he said, and kept grinning.

“You don’t have to! …but… I bet I can make your wish come true!” I said. It ended there, until much later, and we moved on to other things, to the normal busyness of life, as is necessary with a family. And I wouldn’t have it any other way, because we love these five people God has brought into our home. But sneaking in these moments of playfulness and secret flirting is a healthy part of marriage, and keeping our love alive and young.

Back to all those promises, made many years ago… I’ve had no difficulty loving Tim, most of the time. I’ve been more of a challenge, with all my broken pieces to heal, though Tim never let on how hard it was, loving me. He just kept on loving. And when it got difficult for either of us, even when it would have been easier to quit, we battled through the hard times together. We have no regrets for pushing through and learning to tread water when we felt like we were drowning! Those hard times only made our love stronger.

The honour thing has also been easy for me, but not because I am some saint. It’s been easy because Tim has made it easy. In twenty-one years of marriage he has made mistakes, just as I have, but he has been a leader like I’ve never known in my life. His gentle, patient love and acceptance have showed me the heart of God, my Father… my Papa… in a way not one other human has. And there are others who have done well. But not as well as he has…. as a husband, and as a daddy to our children. So I honour him easily.

In practical reality, I have a policy to never confront or correct him in public, or speak in a way that belittles him, or is critical. It’s a decision I made a few weeks after our wedding when I heard a woman challenge her husband when he exaggerated in his story telling, and I saw the look in that man’s eyes. I vowed then I would respectfully ask Tim about it in private, if I felt he misrepresented facts or needed correcting. Even in this way, the ‘honouring’ has been about as easy as the loving, because Tim is not a man to inflate a story, for the sake of his ego. His weaknesses are in other areas, but they are my little secrets.

The third part of the vows, the ‘obeying’ part has always bewildered me a bit, in all honesty. I get it about honour, respect and love, but slip in that word ‘obey’, and it all gets a bit murky for me. And it’s not because Tim is a ‘lord it over people’ kind of man. He’s not. He’s a servant at heart, and what’s in his heart comes out in day-to-day living. Even the word ‘reverence’… yeah, that one I can understand, especially with a husband who is so kind. A long time ago–when I learned that in one culture, in Egypt I believe it was, a woman greets her husband at the door, kneeling before him while he places his hands on her head in blessing–I asked Tim if I could do that. To meet him at the door every day, and kneel before him, and have his hands on my head so he could bless me sounded like a wonderful thing! He grinned and, in an almost exasperated tone, said I wasn’t allowed to do any such thing. I still think about it sometimes, but I’m kind of glad now, because my knees aren’t very good and he blesses me just fine standing up. Anyway, I get the reverence thing.

Letting Tim lead makes sense. Sharing the responsibility of parenting and each of us having a unique role… For sure! I’m not too threatened by our gender differences. Not agreeing all the time, and ‘submitting to one another’ is about partnership, and it’s biblical, so we try to live that way. And, believe it or not, giving him a lead role and ‘submitting’ to that leadership… even that doesn’t frighten me. He is easy to submit to, because he lives a life of surrender and Christ-like servant-hood, and always takes my heart into account when he makes decisions. He listens closely to my desires, my dreams and my fears, and he looks to me for input, so when he makes a decision it is balanced with all of those things. It hasn’t always been, but most of the time it has, and is. So his ‘authority’ and my ‘submission’ means nothing to me in the way of being degraded or demoralized, as some view ‘submission’ and authority. Rather, it means there is someone watching over me, offering me protection, care and support. And I like that! It means that when he blesses what I do, I do it with personal passion and his blessing. Bonus! And when he says ‘no’ or ‘wait’, I trust he is doing it for my best interest.

So, regardless of the wording we choose, and whatever is or is not lost in translation when we say ‘obey’, I am blessed to have a husband whom I love and honour, and under whose authority and leadership I willingly place myself. I am blessed that he never takes advantage of me, or abuses my trust or his leadership. Rather, it is to him that I owe my thanks, for using his place in my life to empower me, launch me, and bless me. I have accomplished more because he is in my life, than I would ever have done on my own!

If I had to make the decision again, to walk down that aisle alone, as I did 21 years ago, I would! And if I was to say vows again, understanding their experiential significance, I would still promise to love and honour Tim, and accept him as my leader, to be protected and empowered by his authority.

Thank you My Love. Happy Anniversary!

Love,

~ T ~

© Trudy Metzger

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Pre-Mother’s Day Rant: Femininity & Over-Sexualized Culture

May 10, 2013Splsh4Ripls

The Thursday night pre-Mother’s-Day “Girls Night Out” sale at Marks Work Wear House proved to be a worthwhile, but crazy experience.

I headed out at noon, with plans to shop early, and get it over with. I don’t love shopping so much these days. It’s a necessity, not therapy, or pleasure or addiction. It’s what must be done. That ‘mission to be accomplished’ feeling makes crowds in stores more stressful, and shopping less fun. I would avoid that, going early.

I arrived at the store and, sure enough, it was busy, but not insane. That was great until I discovered the ‘additional 20%’ discount doesn’t start until evening. There I was, with a few summer tops and scarves. Twenty percent is a big deal, so I decided I’d return later. But before I left, I tended to one little matter….

There was one sweater on sale, in white, but not available in my size. I knew I’d get a lot of use out of–presuming it doesn’t get a stain… I avoid white unless it’s bleachable–so I had the kind cashier call the other stores to see if they had one my size.

She directed me to another store in Kitchener, where they would hold one with my name on it. I made my way to the store, about ten minutes away…

At the store, the cashier looked confused. There was no sweater on hold. I explained where I had come from, that the other store had called and confirmed, and it should be there. One cashier remembered the call, but said he told them there is none. Still, they checked again. I waited.

The cashier returned. Still no sweater. She would call all the other stores, she said, and find out who it was that had one. They called. Again I waited.

Apologetically she explained that there were no sweaters locally. Far away there might be one, but not close by. Sorry, she said, looking quite worried.

It’s okay, I told her. These things happen. It’s life.

She looked relieved, giggled and sighed, “Wow! I thought you’d be more angry. You’re not even upset. I thought you’d be mad.” She handed me a card. An additional 20% off of any purchases, store wide.

I thanked her, and left. An additional 20%, meant 40% off my purchases, some of which were already marked down by 30%. That’s 70%. I slipped it into my wallet and returned home.

At 8:00pm I slipped back to the store where my items were on hold. I asked the gentleman for my ‘Hold’ items, then joined the long line up. Very, very long line up. People inched forward. Slowly. I waited, patiently, quietly.

A woman up ahead, with a table set up, and prizes to give away, caught my eye. She smiled. I recognized her, and waved.

When I was near enough to her, we chatted. Chatting makes time move faster and the line seems to move less slowly. We talked about stuff like shopping, and work.

Speaking of work, I started a part-time job a while ago–just over a month now, actually–so I told her about that. I am a server, at the Drayton Chop House, a few nights a week. It’s a lot of fun, I said. The best is when it’s busy, and we’re run off our feet.

I have fun with it, I told her, and it helps customers relax. And when customers like you, and they tip well, it makes you feel good, like you really earned your wage. Even when you make mistakes, if you own it, and take it in stride, it doesn’t make them upset, or when you say things and stick your foot in your mouth, and you laugh at yourself, they like it. Live entertainment, why not? Then the tips get even better, I told her playfully.

She leaned in close then, and whispered something, with a giggle. I missed what she said and asked her to repeat it.

“Do you have a good push up bra?” she whispered a bit louder. I could feel my eyebrows furrow, not connecting the dots. I stared blankly at her for a moment. She giggled again, and continued, out loud this time, “You’ll make better tips.”

“I’m not stooping to that!” I said, then continued, enthusiastically, “I’m happy with my tips!!”

A woman, presumably in her sixties, stopped shopping to stare at me, as if I had said something terrible, and it was at that moment I realized…

“I didn’t say that,” I said out loud. “And I’m still not stooping to doing things for tips,” I added. “That’s messed up.”

“It’s the way it is,” she said.

The line moved past the stand. I had filled out my ballot, dropped it in. But my mind was on our conversation, and the little tip on tips she had given.

I understand that we are sexual creatures. I understand that men are visual, at least that is how we’ve stereotyped them, and women are curvy and appealing. And, yes, I even believe in dressing to compliment the body God gave me. (A body that has changed noticeably over the years…)

But to use my body, to try to get better money… I find every part of that offensive and degrading.

Why would I want to prostitute myself that way?

When I go out for dinner, if a server–male or female–is polite, kind and helpful, even if he or she makes mistakes, I tip generously. I know what it is like to make mistakes. We’re all human. And as long as the server takes responsibility–say for the lipstick on the glass, when I am not wearing any, or any such thing–it doesn’t influence my generosity. But neither does their gender, their age, or their looks. Not in any way.

I want to be treated with respect, and that is the respect I try to give. And that is my rant about that…

Our world is over-sexualized, and I’m committed to not playing the game. Feminine beauty is a thing of the heart, not the body. We are sexual creatures, but we don’t need to let ourselves be sexualized by culture and society, or become sexualized within our own minds.

I am more ‘matronly’ today than I was 45 pounds ago, before I gave birth to five children and survived a massive heart attack. But my heart has become more beautiful as the Spirit of God has healed, defined and delivered me.

Not long ago, Tim and I stood in the kitchen, and it struck me how much we’ve both changed, physically. I put my arms around him, giggled and said, “Isn’t it great to be middle-aged, chubby, and in love?”

And, yes, almost twenty years into marriage, we are crazier about each other than we were back when our bodies seemed near perfect, in size and in function. Now, here we are, with creaky knees, and various other malfunctions, in a deeply committed love relationship, enjoying our marriage more than ever, in every way. There’s more to life than this body…

Today I celebrate the beauty of femininity–curves and rolls and all, with or without push up bras–and thank God for our purpose and design; made in His image, to reflect His heart to the world.

Embrace who you are–the woman God created you to be–and celebrate the unique wonder of you, fearfully and wonderfully created.

Happy Mother’s Day!

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Rejection & Misconceptions Regarding Gender-based Differences in Lobido

September 26, 2012October 12, 2012Splsh4Ripls4 Comments

Without a deeper purpose, I would be the last one to stand in line, to hang all my dirty laundry out for the world to see. Especially if the laundry is all on the line, and I feel I’m left hiding behind semi-transparent sheets. It’s a vulnerable feeling. But the private messages from you, my readers, and general response the past two days reassured me again that it is the right thing to do. There is a purpose.

I received a negative response from one individual–and it wasn’t particularly up-building, so it landed in file 13, and it is only the third negative response I have received since starting my blog. All in all, I would say the topic material is received in a positive light, and helpful for many. Thank you for sharing with me. You have no idea how much that encourages me when I’m going places, publicly, where I have rarely ventured even with counsellors or friends. Many of you understand both my battle, and how I feel, as you express your own fear of commenting publicly, because of that vulnerability.

Thank you for being sensitive, not only because I have overcome abuse and violence, but also as a writer, when I put my heart out there. I am convinced I have the most amazing audience in the world!

Everyone experiences rejection, on some level, in marriage, whether real, or perceived. With abuse victims there is often an increased sensitivity to rejection, and this sensitivity also means more perceived rejections.

What fascinates me is how much we hear about men being the ones with the high libido, and therefore the ones who are often rejected by women. I’ve heard it in pretty much every marriage event I’ve attended. When I invite them to conferences, I’ve had women say, “If I hear one word about men and their high libido, I will up and walk out. I am so tired of no one addressing the other side of that”, and similar comments.

Meeting with women, and working through marriage issues with them, I can count on two hands the amount of times I’ve heard the complaint that ‘all he ever wants is sex’. Or ‘I wish he would just keep his hands off of me!’ And the few times I’ve heard it, it has usually been accompanied by, “I wish he would pay attention to me other times too. Then I would love his advances in bed”, or things of that nature. The exception is in the case where husbands ‘grab and grope’ but otherwise put no effort into relationship building or healthy non-sexual physical touch. This is a source of deep frustration for women. Most of them feel disrespected, and neglected on many levels.

I am convinced that, a high percentage of the time, women do not have a lower libido than men. We crave relational attention, communication, affection and non-sexual cuddling apart from the bedroom scene. If we feel loved, valued and accepted, the odds are… Never mind, gentlemen…. Do your math…

What I do hear, constantly, are women who feel neglected both in bed and out of bed. Not only do these women tell me that the relational and communication aspect is lacking, but their husbands don’t initiate intimacy, and reject them when they initiate it. The topic of sexual intimacy is not up for discussion, leaving these marriages vulnerable and shaky, with literally months, if not years, without sexual intimacy.

The women who tell me their husbands are not interested in sex, are not an indication that women generally have a higher libido, or that we’ve been misled by statistics. It simply indicates that more men shut down sexually in marriage, whether due to sexual sin, childhood sexual abuse, addictions or other reasons, than most of us are led to believe.

This needs to be addressed because the women, who feel rejected, battle shame and inferiority. They are hesitant to open their hearts and talk openly about their struggle, not wanting to admit that their husbands don’t find them attractive. (Just like every girl in high school wishes she was the prettiest, every wife wants to be attractive and the apple of her husband’s eye. To admit to another woman that she is sexually rejected and relationally neglected is a very difficult and humiliating thing.)

Each one worries that either she is not beautiful, or maybe her husband is having an affair, or into pornography or masturbation. Some know that is the case, but feel lost and dis-empowered. Not knowing how to impact the marriage for good, they suffer in silence. Others walk out on marriages, without a backward glance.

Yet other women admit to turning to pornography, emotional affairs and masturbation, as a source of fulfilment, while continuing in cold, distant cohabitation. They are afraid or unwilling to broach the subject of their struggles with husbands, who, in some cases, are into the same thing. When I hear these ‘confessions’ it’s usually accompanied by, “I’ve never told anyone that before. Please don’t tell anyone.”

This rejection of each other, and ultimately God’s plan, along with the silence and secrecy, is detrimental to marriage, to the family unit and God’s kingdom. Every woman wants to be pursued first outside of the bedroom, at a heart level, and then celebrate that connection through intimacy in bed. I think that every man, based on those we have talked to and read about, wants his wife to think he is an amazing lover, but he also longs to be built up, believed in, and encouraged in day to day life.

Somehow the vicious cycle of rejection starts in the little things we overlook, because of a lack of communication and generally misunderstanding each other. It snowballs, because of our pain and selfishness and leaves many a marriage shipwrecked unnecessarily.

The key is to get help sooner than later. To ignore it will build up walls of self-protection until eventually, the relationship is all but severed. Wise counsel and a listening ear from someone who understands is crucial in order to end the cycle.

In the past few days many of you have contacted me, asking for connections to counsellors, or looking for guidance. If I have not yet responded, I will. And if you have not had the courage to email, but would like help finding a counsellor, mentor or resource, please don’t hesitate. (Visit the Contact Trudy page, and fill out the form. It is private and will only show in my email inbox, not on the website.) We were not created to do this alone, and if I have connections in your area, I will do my best to connect you to someone.

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