I don’t like it when Stephen travels. Over the past 9 years, when we have to be apart, it’s usually because I am on the road traveling to speak somewhere. Generally, these trips are short and spread out, and when I am the one traveling, my mind is focused on the job at hand. By the time I get out the door and on my way, I blink a couple of times and it seems I’m pulling back into my driveway.
This season has been unusual in that Stephen has been the one on the road. It has also been unusually busy in our lives, both as a family (we are downsizing from house life to apartment life) and in ministry (my organization is hosting a major conference soon and Stephen is continuing his education – hence all the travel). We’ve felt like two ships passing in the night.
I am grateful this is a season in our life, and not our way of life. We all go through tough and challenging seasons. Seasons like this can be really hard on a marriage–especially if you’re married to someone like me.
It has been a life-long struggle for me to trust others–especially those I allow to be close to me. I tend to be self-sufficient and self-dependent. Although I’ve grown in this area so much over the years, Stephen is the one who bears the brunt of this still broken part of my heart. As he was on the road, and I was dealing with preparing our house for realtors to show, meeting with my team for conference prep, and parenting our two children still at home, I was also rebuilding the force field around my heart. (What feels like a shield is really a wall.)
Stephen arrived home after a few days away–his final trip of this long season–to a less than enthusiastic wife. Granted, I’ve been exhausted and overworked, but the truth is, I had reconstructed the wall and he could tell. To Stephen, this feels like rejection and even abandonment. To me, this feels like strength and protection. Vulnerability is so risky!
Thankfully, we’ve walked this path now together for long enough that he was aware of what was going on, and because he has proven faithful and safe for me enough times over the years, we were able to address what was going on and nip it in the bud. I’ll never forget the first time we dealt with this. We had been dating for a few months and he had to go out of town. He said, “I’ll try to call as often as I can, but I’m not sure when that will be.” I didn’t want to appear clingy or needy, so I responded (without much emotion), “It’s okay. I’ll just see you when you get back.” To which he wisely replied, “You don’t have to pretend to be strong. It’s okay to say you’ll miss me, too.”
Risk comes before reward. It is still really hard for me to be vulnerable. Like most of you, life has wounded me and I tend to forget that although my greatest wounds have come through relationship, so does my greatest healing. With our spouses, especially, it is vital that we take this risk of (what feels like) self-protection so that we can experience the reward of TRUE connection.
In what way can you risk self-protection so that you (and your spouse) can experience the reward of true connection?
