The Wrong Side of the Sink
our ongoing feud in the kitchen
I recorded this voiceover when I wrote the initial draft of this article. But since that time, I added a few stories to this piece, so you won’t find the entire piece in the voiceover. However, it does share the essence of this message, so enjoy!
Here’s an quote from several years ago: "We can create a calm climate in our homes by the way we respond to those around us, even if they are not acting as they should. Soft, gentle words minister grace, strength, and encouragement."
-Nancy Leigh DeMoss
True?
I appreciated
’s response: “I might not be able to choose my circumstances but I can choose how to respond to them. I don’t always do this perfectly, of course! But being aware of it I make better choices more often.”
LOVE IN A ZIPLOC
Early this morning as I sat by the fire spending a bit of quiet time with my dog, my husband emerged from the bedroom with a blanket. He gently covered my bare legs with his blanket as I sat in my recliner writing. After I heard him rustling about in the kitchen, he brought me a ziploc baggie filled with an assortment of saltine crackers, celery, havarti and cheddar cheeses, and I smiled at his “love in a ziploc.”
Breakfast by the fire. Then he brought me my favorite drink: a can of Organic Lemon and Ginger Juice Seltzer Water from Trader Joe’s. As I watch the sunrise outside our bay windows, I marvel at the small graces that create bonds of love in marriage.
It’s not lavish Valentine’s Day gifts or the way he celebrates holidays, because in truth my husband doesn’t think holidays should be special at all. He’s partial to daily gestures of kindness and grace instead. I’ll admit to feeling let down that first Christmas or birthday when he insisted we not fall into the trap of commercialism. But this morning, I smiled as he so sweetly demonstrated his love with a little morning picnic.
On this cold, crisp Oregon February morning, despite my dog breaking the morning stillness with his sharp staccato barks piercing my ears, I feel reflective and incredibly blessed. My husband just called the dog down the hall to his office, where he’ll soon begin his work day. He serves five hospitals and a gaggle of medical clinics from his desk chair at home. A gift left over from the pandemic days…no harried commute, no leaving the house for work.
Now, as Jerry hugs the dog, telling him not to be “over-reactionary” and the two of them walk to the kitchen to get a Charlie Bear treat for him to have once he settles down and obeys, I smile.
Instead of a sappy Valentines Day post, I thought I’d share something from the trenches this week instead…because as many of you know, the realities of marriage aren’t neatly packaged in a red box of chocolates.
THE BEAUTIFUL STRUGGLE
I wrote the article linked below on our ninth anniversary. I have often thought of marriage as the “beautiful struggle.”
Our first year held many tough challenges, and as I write this morning, I feel a sense of peace and joy.
We survived.
The truth is, in our own strength, we might not have. But over the years, as our love was tested by painful events that stretched us beyond what we knew how to bear, our bonds grew stronger, our attachment as secure as a dowel holding together two pieces of wood without nails. The boards hold tight, despite stress, and they are securely attached. Kind of like us as we approach a decade of loving each other through the good, the bad and the ugly.
We grew more and more confident of those bonds over time, and we both know we will survive until our final breath, by the grace and mercy of our faithful Heavenly Father, who deserves all of the credit!
This morning I came across something I wrote almost a year into marriage. Here you go:
As Valentines Day approaches, I have been reflecting on a few things. To my friends who are single (and those who are married as well), I pray you realize how much you are loved by God and many others.
This holiday can be lonely for some, and I remember how good it felt when friends expressed their love and care in helpful ways. My Dad always used to bring me a single red rose. Though his wife, Helen probably instigated this, the gesture always touched my heart.
Jerry took me out for dinner and grocery shopping last night after work. Just doing life together is a great gift.
The past 10 months of marriage have held many adjustments, but we have seen God's faithfulness and grace in so many ways and we have grown so much together.
I am so thankful for the gift and challenge of covenant love...we joined our lives together before God last April, and I thank Him for the refining God does through the joys and challenges we have experienced so far.
Marriage takes work and brings lots of opportunities to die to ourselves. But we welcome the process of being conformed to HIS image as God lovingly renews us and transforms our rough edges into something that can honor Him.
I can't imagine marriage without Jesus at the center. We need His example of unconditional love, His mercy, and His power to live out our vows. And, thankfully, He provides all those things and more. Happy Valentines Day, and may you know the depths of God's love for you in new ways.
The Beautiful Struggle
Thankful for 9 years of marriage. We've had some wonderful times together. God has sustained us through some tough times, too. The pandemic, the loss of our fathers, multiple falls and recoveries (thanks for always picking me up, & washing off the blood and dirt), hospital trips for both of us (and long nights in the ER), and through it all, we've lear…
These verses from the Bible taunt me sometimes. Oh, I understand and appreciate these truths in theory. But the living out of these truths requires a measure of God’s grace and empowerment!
Do all things without grumbling or complaining. Philippians 2:14
Do not let the sun go down on your anger. Ephesians 4:26
Love one another fervently (deeply) from the heart. 1 Peter 1:22
THE WRONG SIDE OF THE SINK
Lest anyone have the illusion that I have it all together (I never pretend, though I think my husband would appreciate it if I would at least try to pretend now and then), I thought I’d share a goofy source of tension between my husband and me that has never been fully resolved.
My husband marches into the kitchen and starts to yell. “You put things in the right side of the sink again!!! I can’t believe it!”
I glare at him, and tell him that “normal people put dishes to soak on the same side of the sink as the disposal,” and he is obviously not a normal person.
Another morning, bright and early, I hear dishes flying and crashing as he throws them into the other side of the sink with gusto and spite. He says he “can’t possibly fix his breakfast if there’s a dish on the right side of the sink.”
I shake my head and pull the covers over my face. This man!!!
(I try to keep on top of housework. But I don’t always succeed.)
Do you have some area in your life where you never seem to get to a place of peaceful compromise?
I remember during the pandemic, my husband informed me, once again, that he would not be doing any dishes.
“It’s woman’s work!” he bellowed.
I told him if I really believed he actually felt that way, I would never have married him.
I have multiple sclerosis. Balancing at the sink is really difficult for me sometimes, and I believe that shared duties help make for a harmonious home.
It’s nice in theory at least.
More about doing dishes a little later…
My husband is a good cook. I am, too.
But you’d never know it by listening to him.
When we first got married, I fixed some nutritious meals. I loved to use kale, garlic and lots of vegetables in my stir fry. I really love sautéing baby bok choy in garlic, and serving it with chicken and vegetable potstickers and rice. I don’t remember exactly what I cooked those first few weeks of marriage, but his response was lackluster.
My husband said, “Keep trying. This food isn’t so good, but don’t give up. Maybe eventually you will learn to cook better.”
He’s a man of few words, thankfully, but tact isn’t his strong suit.
At the grocery store, he’d want to load up on junk food and ice cream. I would shake my head. I had no idea the man ate like a child, an unhealthy child at that.
Well, he also liked to cook some healthy meals, but I had maintained a very healthy weight for almost a decade by not bringing sugar or other less nutritious foods into my house at all before I met him. So our trips to the grocery store stirred up some conflict.
On a family trip with his parents, his mom got up in the middle of the night to eat Cheetos. In the morning she said she couldn’t get the golden yellow evidence off of her hands.
I teased her that the Cheeto dust was glistening in the moonlight.
My husband often gets up in the night to eat similar “nutritious” things, too. It’s a family trait.
Dreaming of a service dog to help me get up when I fall.
During the pandemic, when my husband first started working from home, tensions ran high. I had several bad falls in our back yard that year. My husband is, in those moments, very caring and helpful. He always picks me up (a bit panicked, understandably), and cleans up my wounds. He gingerly helps me to my chair, gives me a blanket and brings me frozen peas to ice my injuries with. (I’ve lost track of how many times we’ve gone through this together in our years together.)
I love him for this.
(Rather than a box of chocolates on Valentine’s Day, his love is demonstrated by frozen pea bags and by gingerly cleaning up wounds with hydrogen peroxide on a soft cloth. He’s a pretty good ‘nurse.’)
Thank God I had my cell phone in my pocket the day I fell back by the cinder block raised beds. I hit hard, and wound up with a concussion. I couldn’t get up, so I lay there a bit, pondering the meaning of life.
My ankle hurt a lot, and my knee was banged up. I don’t think I was bleeding too much, but once I gathered my wits about me, I called him on the cell phone. He was working in the front bedroom, his new office digs.
I had been saving money to buy myself a big service dog who I could train to help me up when I fell, but he said since it seemed like this work at home situation might be long term (no one really knew at that point), he could be my service husband and pick me up when I fell. But I had better keep my cell phone with me at all times.
I looked into Bouvier Flanders dogs but it sounded like they required a lot of meticulous grooming. Determined, I started growing succulents and putting them in unique planters. I decided I would save up enough money to buy myself a dog big enough to help me up when I fell like my first dog had been trained to do.
I did appreciate my service husband, too.
Eventually, I saved enough to buy myself an Aussie Mt Doodle. He’s in training to be a mobility dog, and he adds a lot of joy to our lives. He runs alongside my power chair as I run him up and down the hills in our neighborhood.
Garbage day celebrations.
Jerry loved garbage day, and to be honest, there were weeks that year (during the bleak days of the pandemic) when garbage day was our main source of joy and entertainment. Jerry would play his banjo, perched by the window, and cheer on the garbage truck driver as he ‘ran the gauntlet.’
Jerry would give me the play by play.
When I was on a trip to China, Jerry sent me a video clip of the garbage truck arriving. He didn’t want me to miss out.
We lived near the end of the culdesac in a small rural town, and Jerry has a fascination with garbage trucks.
We’d peek out our windows in the dark morning hours when we couldn’t always see the action as clearly as we’d like. But sometimes the neighbor lady would run outside in her silky leopard print pajamas (he called them skivvies for dramatic effect) and cram one last bag into their overstuffed big garbage can just as the truck pulled up with a rumble and the screech of brakes.
Then if the driver managed to pick those cans up with the big lever arm without knocking over the adjacent cans, he’d pick up the garbage can of the middle house, and then pull forward to the house where Pajama Man and his wife lived.
So one day, my husband said a bit too gleefully, “Sue, next time you fall, try to fall in the front yard. I’ll ask the garbage truck driver to help pick you up off the front lawn.”
A bit insulted, I looked at him with wide eyes and a bit of a scowl on my face.
“He can give you a shake and set you upright. It will be exciting to watch, and helpful.”
Clearly, he meant no harm or malice.
My husband just likes garbage trucks and admires all they can accomplish with a lever arm and a flourish.
Well, that same year, I wasn’t feeling well, and I realized that balancing at the sink was extra hard right then. So I told my husband he could do his own dishes, and mine to boot!!
He spoke with resistance and scowled.
“It’s woman’s work!!” he declared, just hoping to push my buttons.
He often reminded me: “I’m the MAAANNNN.” (Just yesterday he told me this again.)
I shook my head and prayed for patience.
(We were bored, I’m afraid. The stay home orders were dragging on, and we didn’t have cable television. So we created our own ridiculous drama. We acted like children, only worse.)
My husband bought a towel that still hangs in our kitchen. It says, “Blessed are those who do my dishes.”
I went on strike.
I refused to do dishes for a week. He bought paper plates and dug in his heels. I spent a lot of time in the sheep pasture nearby.
I prayed.
I wrote.
I took naps.
I did anything but the dishes.
My friend on a nearby farm offered to let me use their little barn shaped she-shed. I took my laptop over there and wrote my heart out.
Some of my friends have asked me to publish my Garbage Day Devotions, a collection of our garbage day celebrations, so after I finish the book I’m working on, I may try to do so.
Just so you know, my husband had hoped he married a 1950’s Mayberry wife, but he got me instead.
I hoped I had married the kind, considerate man who I’d dated for three and a half years.
Where did he go?
We both received exactly the person God knew would help us grow.
Continued prayers. To not avoid pain, we often minimize, justify, and deny. But you deserve better. I pray someday that you see your value. 🧡 (sent in much love)
I love Valentine’s Day! I’m one who loves the cute card and gift. Usually chocolate and flowers! But the daily expressions of love is what really counts. When he puts wool socks on my cold feet or I make sure he has his weekend snacks of chips and salsa. We thrive and survive together daily because of the tiny thoughtful gestures not the dozen roses or box of nuts & chews from See’s candy store.