Your husband wants to be seen, too.

The kids were playing, their happy voices echoing off walls bathed in sun on a spring afternoon.

I used their distraction as an opportunity to wander around our downstairs, picking up abandoned shoes and socks that dotted the floor before heading back to our bedroom,

I grumbled as I made a mental checklist of everything that needed doing, and that whatever efforts I put in would probably seem undone by the week’s end.

I made my way to our walk-in closet with an armload of clothes. The cream colored walls looked like amber in the afternoon sun, but I didn’t notice as I rammed an armload of sweaters into the bowels of my closet. 

I remembered how excited we were when we bought our house. My husband and I  went from sharing one normal sized closet to us each having our own, complete with a small dressing area and full length mirror. It certainly isn’t Sunset Boulevard grand, but it is several steps up from what we had grown accustomed to.

I pride myself on how my closet is barely full because darn the incessant belief that every woman only dreams of a giant closet for just their shoes.

My husband’s closet? His is brimming with stuff.

Everything from his military dress blues tucked in the very back recesses to guitar cases leaning against each other on the floor. Combat boots and rugged Doc Martins mingle on the top shelf. Business suits, ties and belts, hats and keepsakes. You name it, it’s probably in there. Pieces of his entire life.

I noted all the cellophane wrappers and green tags on the floor and growled out a sigh. I’d given him a small waste basket for all the paper shirt tags and wrapping his shirts come home with from the dry cleaners. Why doesn’t he ever seem to use it?

Lately, my husband has moved through each day almost like a specter. He’s there, but he isn’t really.

He’s been bogged down with life. We have a new home that needs cracks repaired, rooms refinished or painted, and a bathtub that likes to backup like clockwork once a month – always at 10 o’clock at night after we have sank down on the sofa after the kids are in bed, because of course it does.

He has kids who are still small and need endless attention. He just finished another semester for his master’s program. He works full-time each week.

And he sometimes wakes up early each day feeling defeated before his feet hit the floor.

Up until that day, I had been so frustrated with him. Why couldn’t he try to make the best out of his days the same way I have tried to?? It wasn’t like homeschooling small children and cleaning soggy food out of a kitchen sink strainer was the answer I eagerly filled in on all those high school career surveys.

This life isn’t always the best version I could have conjured up when I was looking at college brochures.

I didn’t think adulthood would be having the cup holders in my car full of sticky rocks and coins, and how my house would constantly feel more like a dumpster behind a Toys R Us with four walls than home.

I did not think it would be chocked full of grief and anxiety while trying to be a responsible parent. I didn’t think being a grownup would be so astoundingly hard.

I also never considered the isolation and anonymity of parenting and marriage. How you spend your days wanting to build the perfect home, but then those four walls can surreptitiously swallow your identity from having to work so hard to safeguard everything.

They can even hide you from your spouse.

“This is so far from what we pictured most days” we both silently think as we convince ourselves the other one just wouldn’t understand how we feel.

I snatched up each clear wrapper on the floor, wrapping them around my forearm as I began to hunt furiously for the black plastic waste basket I’d given him to contain his mess. I noticed one side of his closet was shut, and yanked on the handle. The bi-fold door sounded like an old book spine as it creaked open and I ran my eyes down the long line of hanging dress shirts, and the smell of leather and cotton filtered out.

I found it. 

The waste basket. Full to the absolute brim with paper tags. Then I noticed the rest of the tags. They looked almost like snow on top of his leather bag that lay on the floor. There were tags everywhere.

I slowly sank to my knees.

I reached in and picked up a handful of those tags, passed them through my fingertips like I was skimming them delicately across the surface of water. I let them fall, heard them rustle to the floor. And I started to weep.

Here was his waste basket. Full. So full there was simply no more room. I looked up at his closet and saw the stark division between him and “him.” On one side are dress shirts and suit jackets. A tie rack divides the closet, and on the other side? Polo shirts, the suit he got married in and his military dress blues. Button down shirts he has owned since before we were even dating, and the uniforms he wore every day when he was in the service.

I saw the guitar cases that haven’t been touched in months. His Doc Martin boots he doesn’t get to wear often on casual days out because he’s hardly out of the house. A tote full of keepsakes and letters, probably from me when he was deployed to the middle east.

I saw clearly his life, divided into two quadrants. The parts of him that are hardly ever touched because he lives the rest of his life for us. And the weight of just how much he forgoes for himself out of duty to his family. I saw him again fully for just a moment. The square-cut jawed man I married, tan and impossibly youthful, as he told me of all he wanted to do with his life, and I decided to myself what is life if not an adventure. And what is an adventure without your best friend? I saw him contrasted to the person he is now, beholden to responsibility, willing to set so much aside for the people he loves.

I know that we mothers struggle with finding ourselves again after children arrive and wreck shop. The ocean we are in is so staggeringly beautiful that we don’t even realize it sometimes when we are drowning.

We think nobody could ever feel as lonely as we do.

I think we are wrong, ladies.

The closet was bathed in golden sunlight. I saw it then, as I cried and dust motes hung in the air and our ceiling fan spun silently and cars raced past. Time stopped for just a moment as God let the scales fall from my eyes.

How often have I prayed for and craved deeper intimacy with my husband. I thought that meant heartfelt conversations at 1 a.m. and love notes and sonnets. Instead, it looked like a river of paper tags on a closet floor and my eyes bursting open when I finally saw where my husband is.

I didn’t realize as I hunted down that trash can I was actually hunting for him and for some truth, no matter how imperceptible, about where he is. Where he’s gone. About what is laying hard on his heart.

It was right there, behind two bi-fold doors, buried on his closet floor. The neglect that defines his life right now. Both my own and his. I had neglected to see the divine partnership my husband and I share. And how much he has neglected himself for the sake of his family.

He was doing his best, each morning. Each morning after sitting at the table with a plate of breakfast after a quick shower. Tossing tags into his closet as he tightened his tie, threw on his suit jacket and left his family for one more day at the haste of the daily grind.

I emptied his trash can. I slipped it back into his closet and closed those doors. Not before I poured out a prayer to God from our closet floor.

Women. That moment changed me. It affirmed to me what I should have known a long time ago. Me and my husband? We are so very much in this together. I am not alone. 

And he shouldn’t be either.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You are not responsible for your husband’s happiness.

I am going to lay out what may be a difficult or hard but (hopefully) freeing word for us as wives.

 

You are not responsible for your husband’s happiness.

 

You are not his keeper.

You are not his babysitter.

You are not his surrogate mother.

You are not meant to be the single source of his contentment, hope, effectiveness and peace, just as he is not meant to be yours.

 

What you really are is so much more than these things.

 

It is time for us wives to find freedom from a burden that we have been saddled with for far too long. We have permission to not be everything to our husbands, women. We have permission to be as complex and flawed and in need of grace as they are.

We wives were built, in part, to be helpers to our spouses. But that is not our only purpose and gifting. We are meant to magnify the Lord preeminently in all we do, even if we happen to take a husband at some point.

And yes, our God’s greatness will shine through us in how we love and treat our spouse.

However, as an occasionally misguided extension of that reality, we are hardwired to be fixers even when a situation may not require it of us. Many of us want nothing more than to see our husbands succeed and find fulfillment – even at a disservice to ourselves. 

And Lord knows, we wives will spin plates and walk an exhausting tight rope trying to make that happen – by whatever means we think is necessary. Whether those means are nagging, compensating for your spouse where they fall short, lowering expectations or raising them, striving for constant perfection in an effort to keep them continuously happy, keeping quiet to keep the peace or NOT keeping quiet.

 

And it is to our own detriment when we take these efforts of our husband’s fulfillment, success and even sanctification completely upon ourselves. 

It is simply not our job to complete or constantly cater to our husband. 

This is does not mean that their happiness and joy is unimportant to is. It simply means that we surrender feeling like we have failed at some divine task when we see our husband struggle. And instead, we take up the mantle of championing them and seeing them through difficult seasons in life as their wife and spiritual companion.

 

Our job is to be a conduit of God’s grace to our husbands. Which means forgiveness when he gets it wrong. It means encouraging him when he is discouraged. It means helping him, and being attuned to him in ways no one else can be. 

It means cherishing him above all else and anyone else in this world.

It means grieving when something wounds him as you would for yourself – because the two of you are one flesh.

It means being honest. It means speaking truth – in boldness. And it always means being faithful to the Lord first, and above all things. 

And, it also means allowing yourself to be the flawed, finite human being that you are as you both walk this road together.

It also means there are times where you can and should be asking for his support, prayer and respect because grace is reciprocal. 

But we are not ever ultimately responsible for making them feel complete. It isn’t even in our jurisdiction. And it was never meant to be. 

The onus is not on us to always concede ground in a disagreement. The onus is not always on us to be sure they feel happy or fulfilled. The onus is not on us to be all things at all times.

We are responsible for making sure that we are not adding to their burdens in their every day life, and for being a blessing to them.

We are responsible for being a safe place for them to land when they need it most.

We are responsible for praying for and seeking out ways to foster their continued growth in the Lord within our marriage and relationship as best as we can.

We are responsible for caring deeply about their needs, and esteeming them above ourselves, just as they are responsible for caring for our needs and esteeming us above themselves.

We are responsible for showing respect to them, and for giving them the room to be complicated, flawed and imperfect entities. Much like we are! 

We are responsible for sharing our own hurts and successes and joys with our husbands in an effort to build intimacy and humility.

 

This doesn’t mean that there won’t be seasons where this is more work on our part than theirs. And conversely, there will be seasons where they will put forth more effort than us because life and redemption and growth are not linear, and because we will be tested.

The hope we should pray is to ask God to help us be the wife that our husband needs in whatever season you both find yourselves in.

 

And that our husbands would remember that God is the only God he needs – in every season.

The one thing you should do for your husband

Don’t you just love date night?

Holding hands. Conversation without interruption. Being out and about together. Taking your time for everything – especially that glass of wine. Acting as if you normally dress like this and have makeup on and are showered (yea, right? That would be something huh, moms?)

How easy our married lives would be if we could always live in the glow of date nights. If laundry and work and cutting the grass and toddlers and making sandwiches and paying the bills didn’t remind us that we have actual responsibilities. 

It’s hard to maintain the afterglow of date nights when life happens. I always resolve myself at the end an evening out that I am going to keep these carefree feelings alive and show my husband how much I care for and love him EVERYDAY. Not just once a month, when we sneak out for an evening together.

Then my dreams face plant into reality.

In my usual frame of thinking, I am much too busy to put myself out there with my husband because the kids need a bath and their teeth brushed and to be put into bed. I have to clean the dishes. I have to feed the baby. I am much too busy to be expected to give anyone else anymore of myself.

Then by the time the kids are in bed, and there is any sliver of a chance of connecting with my husband, I am much too tired. It becomes one more chore on a checklist of things that require something of me. Doesn’t that just sound so romantic? 

I struggle with being needed. And because the children sometimes scream like banshees and are relatively hard to ignore, I go out of my way to meet their needs (because I want the voices to stop.) That means I’m less inclined to make myself available for my husband, because his needs, theoretically, can wait. Because I’m exhausted.

Day to-day life, especially with children involved, is hectic and certainly not always romantic. And you’ll swear that your children are purposefully blocking any and every attempt at romance that you and the husband can muster. 

I’m not talking about being a door mat for our husbands. I’m not talking about always putting them above ourselves. I’m speaking practically about the ways that we can love them, and put effort into our marriage, which is always a good thing. I’m talking about encouraging the romance and affection that you need, too, ladies.

It’s probably pretty difficult to get your mind into a “romantic” setting after you’ve cleaned up from a massive diaper blowout and you haven’t caught a shower. For me, sometimes the one thing I’d like most, connection with my husband, just doesn’t seem possible after a long day.

I need a slow build to get my mind in the right settings for romance. But, ladies, we need that connection with our husbands. And, to be frank, we need intimacy with one another. So often, we relegate it to the back burner when it should be a priority.

So, how do we live our married lives like we are in a state of perpetual “bliss”? How do we choose romance?

Show your husband that you care.

Simple as that. Right?

Not always.

Here are a few ways to pursue your husband:

1.) Be glad to see him when he gets home. 

I’m not talking about being June Cleaver. I’m not talking about the house being pristine and having a hot dinner on the table, which is already set. I’m not even talking about having real pants on, and not the sweats you live in for three days at a time.

I’m talking about stopping what you’re doing for two minutes, and welcoming your husband home. Ask him how his day was. Look him in the eye. Give him a peck on the cheek and a hug. Get close enough that he can smell your perfume (or your staleness, if it’s been a long few days since a shower.)

Don’t look at your husband like he is just an extra set of hands when he walks in the door, though I have been guilty of this on plenty of occasions. Look at him like he is your husband. Acknowledge that is there, acknowledge that you missed him. Then smack that booty.

Let him know you care. 

2.) Do that thing that he wants you to do

Get your minds out of the gutter. 

My husband loves it when I wake up early and keep him company while he gets ready for work. That sounds painful, doesn’t it? Parting with an extra 45 minutes of sleep is an effort for me. I don’t always succeed.

I’m not saying it’s this exact thing for the two of you, but there is probably something your husband would be bawled over if you did for him or with him. 

Watch the game with him. Play chess with him. Keep him company while he washes the car. Make him his favorite dinner. Watch the t.v. shows he wants to watch. The possibilities are endless.

Don’t know where to start? Ask him.

3.) Be romantic with him. 

Now your minds can be in the gutter. 

Ready?

Initiate. Initiate the romance. Don’t wait. Don’t wait for him to guess what you’re thinking. Don’t send subtle signals. Put the kids in bed, then wait a bit (probably more like an hour to be sure they’re really asleep, if you live in my house.) Then pounce. Or meander over. Or, you know, wink at him. 

Game on. 

4.) Give him a break. 

I know what you’re thinking. 

You’ve been cooped up with the kids all.week., mostly inside because it’s been raining or someone had a cold. And YOU want a break from children. 

Guess what?

Your husband just spend 50 hours at work this week, doing the same things over and over. He just had his bosses come over and tell him to do that report he spent two days on all over again. He just answered a telephone call from a less than pleased customer. 

Newsflash: your husband does stuff, too, while he is out of the house all day. 

So, sometimes, he wants to get out of the house and feel like a human being that isn’t running the endless rat race of the 9-5 (or shift work) work-force. Sometimes, he wants the house to himself for an hour so he can watch wrestling and wear the sleeveless shirts he doesn’t want anybody else to know that he has. 

Sometimes, he wants to be Al Bundy, sit with his hand in his pants on the couch, drinking a cold one, watching the television. 

He’s a peacock, you gotta let him fly. 

5. ) Treat him like a person

Don’t nag him. Cus he’s grown. 

Ask. Request. Suggest. Encourage. Talk to him like an adult.

Don’t nag him like he’s an extra child. Don’t harp on him. Don’t expect him to do things the EXACT way that you would do them.

Especially when it comes to how he interacts with the kids.

Let him learn to navigate the art of fatherhood all on his own. The kids may be wearing mismatched clothing and still be awake at 10:14 when you get home from a night out with the girls. He may not have touched the dishes you asked him to do. He may forget to take out the trash.

Whatever it is. Calm down.

Don’t treat him like a paycheck. Don’t act like your staying home with your children is a favor you’re doing for him. Don’t act like he owes you for everything (except for when you clean up profuse amounts of dog poop or puke.) Don’t act like he couldn’t get by without you. 

Just be grateful when he’s there. The way you want someone to be grateful that you’re there, catching vomit at 1 a.m. or cleaning the goldfish crumbs out of the back of the van when it’s 90 degrees out. 

Forgo the martyr act, and treat him like a flesh and blood person.  

 

There you have it, ladies. Go and have some fun with your man…just Maybe shower first, if you can? It’s funner for both of you that way.