Do you know what my favorite sound is in the morning?”
“What?” I responded as Stephanie, my wife, sat up in bed and grabbed the coffee from the nightstand.
Smiling, she says, “the ‘clink clink’ sound the coffee cup makes when you set it down on the nightstand.”
It’s become a ritual in our house over the past 8 to 10 months. Since our Max was born in November, Stephanie has taken the night shift and I have taken the morning shift. Like many others, one of our other morning rituals is drinking coffee. Not just any coffee, but coffee-shop-quality coffee.
One of my hobbies is coffee (though some might call it an obsession). As with most hobbies, I fully devote my time and energy to honing my craft. Coffee is no exception. I roast my own beans and brew the coffee in a machine that produces fantastic americano’s, cappuccinos, and latte’s. I love an americano; Stephanie loves a latte.
This morning as I was making our coffee, I reflected on the dialogue I shared above. When I started the ritual of bringing her a latte in bed, I didn’t think that it would become what it’s become. I thought she’d like to drink her cup of coffee in silence before being bombarded by the kids and the rush of the day ahead. As I was steaming the milk this morning, I realized at some point over the past decade together I took to heart some requests and plea’s for help that she was asking for.
Over the course of the first two-thirds of our marriage, we functioned in very traditional gender roles. She was the stay-at-home wife and mom in charge of the kids, house and other ‘housewife duties,’ while I spent the majority of my time away from home ‘bringing home the bacon.’ I felt somewhat entitled to getting off work and relaxing from chores or responsibilities. There were times I couldn’t understand why Stephanie staying at home was like work for her. I assumed that her role at home ought to give her plenty of time to take care of everything. However, as we began our family, so began the need for me to take on more responsibility at home.
After a couple of kids entered our lives, our fights would look like this:
Stephanie would voice her need for me to be proactive and help more around the house.
I can’t do it alone,” she’d say.
I would hear this as an attack and would defend my actions by saying something to the effect of
What more do you want from me? Just give me examples of where I am not helping, or doing what you want from me,” I’d say.
It was a merry-go-round of endless debates. She would ask for big picture help, I would ask for minute details and descriptions. She would say I’m not listening and I would tell her I’m a great listener and that she doesn’t know what she’s got in me as a husband. The context constantly changed but the content of our conflicts were the same—She wanted more of me; I felt like I didn’t have enough.
This morning as I finished pouring her latte, I smiled. This coffee was a symbol of redemption. As I walked to the bedroom with her coffee I was reminded that it doesn’t take much to show someone that we see them. Early on in marriage I fought so hard to convince Stephanie that I saw and heard her, but didn’t actually do what it was that convinced her that I saw.
Seeing without doing is cheap, easy and immature. It’s not really seeing. One of my favorite lines from any movie comes from Avatar. Jake and Neytiri fall in love, and they named their love for each other by saying,
I see you.”
I see you means that we look beyond the physical and peer inside to what makes the other person who they are. Ultimately, what makes us lovable is our bumps, bruises and oddities. If we were perfect, we’d have no need for someone else to be apart of our lives. You love your spouse because there is something deficient in them that creates a space for you, and vice versa.
Taking Stephanie a latte in the morning is a way to let her know I see. I see her hard work as a stay at home mom and wife. It would be very easy (as a guy, very natural) for me to go into the bedroom, turn on the lights and, without compassion, tell her it’s time to get up. Walking into the room with something she enjoys, setting it on the table and giving her the space to wake up is what tells her she’s important to me. It says, “I see you.”
You and your spouse need to be seen and shown value as well. What is it in the other person that you need to open your eyes to—and truly see?
