(Re)Marriage: On Rules, Apologies, and Counseling.

June 8, 2013 by · 2 Comments

Marriage is tough. Second marriages are even tougher (or so we’re led to believe). Katherine Hepburn, the headstrong and beautiful actress known for her spirited independence once said, “Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then.” I’ve wondered just the same. The logistics of combining two completely whole persons under one roof for the rest of their natural born lives seems daunting, but when you factor in ideals of love and sex and family, not to mention cleaning and cooking and grocery shopping, it’s a wonder marriage works at all. Now add on ex spouses and step children. There’s a reason that over 60% of second marriages (and 73% of third marriages) end in divorce. Source.

Marco and I are 8 years into my first marriage — his second — and after a particularly exasperating row, we found ourselves talking about what makes us different than those couples who married around the same time we did, but have since divorced. Tooting our own horns? Maybe. But mostly it’s the conversation we have when we need to remember why we are so dedicated to each other.  What follows is a sort of open letter to myself. I’m writing as much for my benefit as I am for anyone else’s so take it with a grain of salt. I offer you the three things that could actually be hurting marriages.

Disclaimer: I am not suggesting you implement these strategies into your marriage. They work for us, for now, but maybe they won’t in a year. Marriages are sacred and private by nature, and require countless acts of selflessness and hard work. Only you know what your marriage needs.

3 Things Hurting Marriage

1. Rules

Now, obviously there are the understood rules like fidelity and respect, but in my quest to control everything around me, I often find myself strong-arming Marco into agreeing to abide by rules “for the benefit of our marriage”. Rules like Don’t leave mad, or Don’t go to sleep mad, or Take 20 minutes to cool off and then talk to me about every single thing each of us said.

Many “marriage weekends” offer rules of marriage, and I think the majority of them are bogus. I was recently privy to one set of marriage “commandments” which listed not eating at a restaurant with a member of the opposite sex and not riding in a car alone with a member of the opposite sex. That sounds exactly like the rules from my Christian college and you know what? Marco and I got a good chuckle out of checking off all the “commandments” we’d broken. Lunch with my ex-boyfriend? check. Marco driving a female friend to the auto parts store? check. The list goes on.

Here’s the problem with that: we’re setting ourselves up to fail. Eventually, (and probably sooner rather than later) those rules are going to get broken and when they do, it will compound the argument dramatically. Think of a suicide vest versus an atomic bomb. When one of us breaks our self inflicted rules, the tone of the argument shifts from the actual problem to the new infraction and words become debris in a bombing; high speed projectiles maiming and killing all in it’s path. Forget the rules. Let him walk away. Go to sleep mad. Stop talking. Time and space will do more good for a fight than you realize. When you’re ready, just smile and pick back up like nothing happened. Which brings me to #2.

2. Apologies

I’m quick to apologize when warranted and I expect the same from my husband. Except, we’re not the same. He’s Marco and I’m Christi and we are each two totally different individuals who value strikingly different things. I love to hear him say “I’m sorry”.  To me, it’s an important part of an argument that says “I acknowledge that I hurt you, and I don’t want to do it again”.  Though he’s gotten much better at it, Marco’s not one to wax an eloquent apology. He’d rather just go on with life and tweak what upset me in the first place. He is not dependent upon hearing or saying “I’m sorry” the way I am. I envy that of him. I need to remember that I married an exceptionally smart man who is fully capable of changing behaviors without me directing the change. That’s the apology that really matters anyway. Don’t get hung up on words, sometimes the best apologies are the ones you see and feel, not hear.

3. Counseling

I’m going to tread lightly here because it’s delicate ground. I am a full supporter of individual and marriage counseling. Having a qualified person to help you work through issues can be an invaluable support to your marriage. That being said, your best friend, coworker, and mother are not qualified people. Spouse trashing is ugly.

Moving on.

About once a year, Marco and I have an argument that leaves us considering marriage counseling. However, neither of us are very keen on opening up our marriage to a stranger and letting them analyze it; it seems horrendously invasive. Then we take a look at ourselves: I was 20 years old when we married. He was divorced with a toddler. We’d known each other for 3 months. Statistically speaking, we should have parted ways 7.5 years ago. We both agree that trying to explain us to a counselor would be impossible. So we don’t do it. But the conversations about counseling seem to be enough. They refocus our energies on the two of us and what makes us special. It makes us a team again, and that’s pretty much the point, right?

Counseling absolutely has it’s place and the conflict resolution strategies are superb, but you know your marriage better than anyone. Listen to your own heart.

Since we’re on the topic, I’m going to go ahead and pull the trigger on my suicide vest from earlier. The vast majority of the time, church based marriage counseling is a sham. I don’t care how long that couple has been married and how many secrets to success Jesus has personally shown them through visions and whatnot. Unless they are licensed by your state, stay far, far away.

• Pastors are not marriage counselors.

• Small group leaders are not marriage counselors.

• Even church counselors are often not actual counselors.

While I genuinely believe they have altruistic intentions and sincerely care about you and your marriage, the church is fraught with staff who “counsel” members on matters they have no business talking about. Take, for instance, this situation: An educated, knowledgeable pastor who knew the intimate details of a middle age man’s drug addiction, sent him to a fresh-out-of-college staff pastor for counseling within the church. This “counselor/pastor” had never even smoked a cigarette, let alone managed any addictions. He was raised in a Christian home, he attended a Christian college, and he was freshly hired onto the staff of this Christian church. He had no business counseling a drug addict and ended up doing more harm than good. This isn’t always the case, of course, and the church means well, but this “counseling” is becoming an epidemic. When seeking help for your marriage, insist on a state licensed counselor. Lots of state licensed counselors have religious affiliations if that’s your style.

There are things that we think will help us, that end up blowing up in our faces. Marriage is too important to watch it implode without a fight, so take the time to nurture your marriage. Nurture your friendship with your spouse. And remember, it’s going to be hard. When you re-align your expectations, things have a way of falling into place. Friedrich Nietzsche said “It’s not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages”. Smart man, that Friedrich.

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Filed Under: Blended Families, Family, Love, Marriage

It’s Not About the Nail

May 29, 2013 by · Leave a Comment

This is me. And honey, I’m so sorry for that :)

It’s Not About the Nail from Jason Headley on Vimeo.

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Filed Under: Bravo on, Marriage, Women
Giving Thanks

Giving Thanks

November 24, 2012 by · 1 Comment

It was an untraditional Thanksgiving to say the least, but it was absolutely perfect. Sometimes when you shake up the status quo, even with something as honorable as Thanksgiving, you find things falling into their own unique place like glitter in a snow globe.

Marco and I relaxed and reconnected this weekend sharing new experiences and quality time. Our favorites. Our Thanksgiving day consisted of Mexican food and gambling; a perfect blend of his Latin flavor and my (teeny tiny) Cherokee Indian percentage. I wouldn’t have changed a thing.

Marco and I reflect often on how blessed we are, and we were both so thankful to have that day set aside for us. The sentimentality that I would have poured into Thanksgiving is being redirected into Christmas and there is something so magical about NYC this time of year.

We left Friday morning for the city and though I hold no claim to it, I feel a connection to the energy and flow of Manhattan that seriously can’t be explained. I’ve only been there a handful of times, but I get this bizarre sense of coming home every time I visit. Laugh at me (my husband does) but it’s like Manhattan is the Home Tree in Avatar and I get to plug into the vibe and pulse right along with her. That was just a glimpse into my insanity ;)

One of my favorite moments of the weekend was during the opening scene of Phantom of the Opera. We were dressed up, I got to wear my 5″ Jimmy Choos that rarely come out of my closet, and we were feeling quite sophisticated. As the show was starting, Marco handed me a glass of white wine but it had this odd black lid on the top to prevent spilling in the theatre. The lights went down to start the show and I couldn’t figure out how to twist off this lid. Marco offered to do it, but I’m stubborn and kept twisting, pushing, and bending this difficult lid. Too fast to react, the lid snapped and the top half flew up and over, smacking Marco right in the face. I held my breath (and my laughter) until Marco’s surprise turned into both of us trying desperately to stifle our belly laughs. But that’s like trying not to laugh in church — the harder you try, the funnier the situation becomes. We missed the first scene, but the wine was pretty damn good.

We were able to fit in just about everything on our “24 Hours in NYC Must Do” list which included successfully navigating the subway system and taking the last elevator up to the 102nd floor of the Empire State Building at 1am. That was breathtaking, though it did leave me a bit queasy. We saw the 9/11 Memorial Preview Site and the actual Memorial with the reflecting pool. There are no words to describe the feeling of being right there. In many cultures, it’s customary to slip off your shoes when walking on holy ground, and that’s the thought that flooded my mind. Holy ground. Sacred. Remembered. I felt the intense need to memorize the names cut out of the metal. I only succeeded with one. Michael Scott Carlo. I don’t know his story, but his name is emblazoned on my heart. Honored. Consecrated. Hallowed.

Click the image to go the Memorial Website 

As chaotic as our lives have been this last month or so, I am looking forward to the chaos of Christmas. I have yet to purchase a single gift — aside from my own (how terrible is that!?) but I’m now ready to embrace the holidays. I’m also getting the chimney cleaned so we can read by the fire. I’m looking forward to expanding on a few traditions we started last year. We do a combination Christmas/Hanukkah celebration and this year I splurged on a silver Menorah. Daniela loves playing with the dreidel and even knows each of the four Hebrew letters and what they represent. This year we are going to emphasize the practice of Shabbat. The rest. Daniela is so used to a schedule of go, go, go that often she gets a bit antsy when there is nothing planned. It doesn’t last long and she can relax into the groove, but I want to use this holiday season to teach her (by example) the importance of Shabbat. Not necessarily Friday to Saturday, but more fluid; an afternoon here, a few hours there. Incorporating a special time to just be. For now, Michael Buble is crooning and Christmas cards are being addressed. ‘Tis the season.

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Filed Under: Community, Family, Holidays, Marriage Tagged With: , ,
Family Anniversary

Family Anniversary

October 13, 2012 by · 2 Comments

Marco and I love Daniela more than anything, but we are also pretty fond of our weekends when she’s with her mom. Random afternoon naps, morning Weeds marathons, spur of the moment destination trips. The freedom to connect with each other without any other little humans garnering for our attention. Over the last 7 years, it’s always worked out that Daniela was at her moms house on our wedding anniversary. Sometimes we go away and sometimes we just stay home — whatever feels most indulgent at the time. When Marco pointed out that Dani would be with us, he was a bit disappointed. However, it gave us the opportunity to change things up a little bit. Instead of a wedding anniversary, we were celebrating a family anniversary. And the truth is, when Marco and I married, we automatically created a little family. I didn’t just become a wife, I became a mom too and our responsibilities were centered around that tiny little 3 year old. Here was a chance to commemorate that beautiful family we became. Together we chose a restaurant with a great view, we ate delicious food, we clapped as the sun set, and we splashed in the surf after dark. We were no longer parents and child, we were 3 friends enjoying a night out and it couldn’t have been more perfect. In those tiny moments where Marco and I exchanged words with just a glance, it was thankfulness I saw in his eyes. And thankfulness reflected back. You could see the pride radiating from Daniela with how grown up and important she felt; she initiated the first toast and her words lit a fire in my heart. Not once did Marco or I wish we were alone. Not once did we pine for last year’s weekend away. We relished the conversation with Daniela and the silliness that slips out of her. The highlight for me was after dark when we were barefoot on the beach. The lights from the restaurant were glowing in the distance but we were the only people by the water. Marco held our shoes as Dani and I ran through the surf. At one point she took my hand and smiled. No words, just a heart stopping smile. While we were hiking up over the embankment to head home, Daniela whispered “I really loved tonight. We should celebrate our family more often”

She steals my heart. Every time.

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Filed Under: Blended Families, Family, Kids, Love, Marriage
Seventh Anniversary

Seventh Anniversary

October 10, 2012 by · 4 Comments

Tonight is the eve of our 7th wedding anniversary. I could go through the normal dialogue about how I can’t believe it and how time goes by so quickly, but I’m in more of a thoughtful place right now. 7 years ago I was an impetuous, lovestruck 20 year old college kid who proposed marriage to the boy she wouldn’t even call her boyfriend. We were nestled on the floor in a pile of blankets in the wee hours of the morning, the light from the electric fireplace throwing shadows over the walls. I quite literally pinned his shoulders to the floor and popped the question. The surprise registered all over his beautiful face and for a split second I though he was going to say no. But he said yes, thank God. We fell asleep on the floor that night giddy with anticipation and high on the idea of a secret wedding. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I knew he would be beside me the whole way, and that was enough. Sometimes I miss that bold, crazy girl. Marco and I took a walk around the neighborhood tonight and we reminisced about the young kids we used to be.

 One night a few of us showed up to the restaurant after closing and somebody had a motorcycle that belonged to a friend of a friend of a friend. Marco and I weren’t yet dating, though he was on my radar. He jumped on that motorcycle and smiled in my direction. Before I knew it, I was hiking up my little skirt and jumping on the back of that death machine. Me! The walking public  service announcement for the danger of motorcycles!

Marco and a friend showed up at the night club my girlfriend and I were at one Saturday night and coerced me into dancing with him ;) He was smooth, but I wasn’t going to be won over that easily. When the club closed, he pretended to be too drunk to drive so that my friend and I would drive him home. It worked, sneaky little Casanova, and I only slept 2 hours that night because I had to pick him up and drive him back to get his car the next morning.

 For weeks he woo’ed me into going on a date with him. Most mornings we opened the restaurant together and every morning, without fail, there were strawberries and whip cream waiting for me where I would stash my purse. He would crane his neck out of the office and grin at me as I ate them and rolled eyes. I loved it. His efforts didn’t stop with just me though. He turned the charm on my aunt when she would come in to pick me up too! But it paid off and I agreed to go on a date with him. I found out later he had been specifically scheduling our days off together, tisk tisk ;)

Seven years later, sometimes I wonder what happened to that girl. When I took on the role of wife and stepmom, I immersed myself completely in it and while I love my life and my family, there are times like tonight when I feel a little pang for that feisty girl I once was. Sometimes I worry that Marco misses her too. We talked about that tonight, Marco and I. He says he still sees that girl in me. She is my essence, he says. That makes me smile and I squeeze his hand a bit tighter. Marco and I didn’t grow up together, but in a way I grew up with him. I matured with him. I became, (eek!) responsible with him. And he loves me anyway. There were a lot of people who didn’t see our relationship lasting very long, and the truth is I would have been a critic too, had I been on the outside looking in. But Marco and I? We have too much passion to fizzle out. We fight passionately, we love passionately, we live passionately. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend or lover. He puts up with my craziness but calls me on my shit too. He is my best friend and my husband. How did I get so damn lucky?

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Filed Under: Blended Families, Love, Marriage Tagged With:
On Stepmother-hood

On Stepmother-hood

September 6, 2012 by · 4 Comments

I have avoided doing a nitty gritty step mom post because, quite frankly, it intimidates me. But with step parenting being such a big part of my life, I felt like I would be remiss not to write about it specifically. I love being a stepmom. I really, truly do. I understand that 99% of step parenting situations are not like mine and while I hurt for those who struggle in their step parenting journey, I also feel ever so blessed to have such a strong relationship with Daniela. Disclaimer: Nothing here is a “how to” guide for having a great step relationship because I know next to nothing about it. Daniela was 2 years old when I met her and we clicked from day 1 — I never really had to build a relationship because 2 year olds are pretty accepting of anyone who smiles. To me, being a step mom is broken down into 3 parts. 1) Daniela and me. 2) Marco and me. and  3) Other parents and me.

1) Daniela & Me

Ringing in 2012 Disney-style!

Daniela and I share a special bond that I could never justify in mere words. I always waited for that “He’s MY papi!” moment but it never came. Instead, the opposite happened. One night when Daniela was 3, Marco and I were in our tiny apartment kitchen slow dancing while dinner cooked. Daniela was at the table coloring. As soon as she saw our googley eyes, she ran over and wedged her little body in between us. We laughed and Marco picked her up, but she reached for me and said “MY mommy!” I was shocked. While it wasn’t the first time she called me mommy, it was the first time she expressed jealousy over Marco’s and my relationship — and it wasn’t jealousy over Marco’s attentions; it was jealousy over mine! The stepmom! That has yet to change either. Marco can do as he pleases, but Mama Christi is hers. Oh to know what goes on inside that little mind of hers. As Daniela gets older, one of my near constant worries is that she sees me as too much of a mom. She has a wonderful mom with whom she shares that sacred mother/daughter relationship and she certainly doesn’t need another one. However, it’s so easy to fall into that mom character because in our house, that’s my role. Not to impugn her own mom’s role in her life of course, but in our home I pick her up from school and check her homework and sign her forms and pack her lunches and bathe her and read to her and on (and on!) the list goes. Marco has the traditional dad role. He plays with her and distracts her from studying and makes up games and teaches her to ride her bike and throws her fully clothed into the pool. We are a traditional family when she’s at home and I suspect it’s the same at her moms house. However, I worry that because she sees me as another mom, I won’t be in that privileged “extra information” group reserved for older friends and cool aunts. I’m afraid I will be kept from all the things that daughters keep from their mothers because my role is so very similar to her moms. So far that has not been the case, and I thank God for it. Marco smiles that patient smile of his every time I bring it up and just says “Christi, she adores you. Not because you’re her stepmom, but because you listen and understand her.” And the truth of the matter is, nothing makes my heart leap more than when Daniela comes to me with questions and says “I was thinking about … and knew you would help” or “I don’t want anyone else to know, but…” That’s when I breathe a sigh of relief. That’s when I know I’ve entered the holy ground of step parenting.

2) Marco & Me

It was smashingly romantic. Though we really could have coordinated our outfits better. Blue and green? yikes.

Marco and I are best friends. We balance each other out ridiculously well and despite coming from two very different countries and very different backgrounds, we share the same core values and morals. Marco encouraged my individual relationship with Daniela from the very get go and never pulled the “she’s my daughter” card. Never. Not once. I will forever love and admire him for that. We have always had this knowledge that him + me = forever & always. Next month we will celebrate our 7th anniversary and that blows my mind. BLOWS MY MIND! At the risk of sounding cheesy, I love him more now than I did on October 10, 2005 when we said to hell with tradition and eloped. When I look back on our whirlwind romance, I don’t know how it lasted. We we’re crazy and impulsive and so very much in love. But we have that x factor, that essence as Marco calls it,  which still gives me butterflies when I unexpectedly see him. I can’t stress how important a strong marriage is to me. To Marco and me, that is the ultimate gift we can give to Daniela; the chance to grow up learning what a healthy marriage looks like. [Side note: Sometimes we role play disagreements just so she can see how to properly work through them. She may or may not know we're staging them. It's hard to tell.] We don’t have regular date nights, we don’t follow the 12 steps to a successful re-marriage. We go in spurts that include dancing every other weekend and then spend a month staying at home and going to bed early. We laugh, we tease, we flirt. We have an ongoing game of alternately hiding a water balloon around the house but never actually talking about it. Alas, we’ve read the statistics. We know that the likelihood of divorce for second marriages is astounding, but the thing is, we don’t care. We’re pretty damn pleased with the life we’ve built and the people in it. Please don’t get the impression that life’s just roses and we never disagree. We fight. Heavens, we fight. We say things we don’t mean. We act like spoiled children. We are human and marriage is hard, but we both knew that going into it. We expected the problems, handled them as they came, and we’ll just continue to do so because it’s worked for us. Although… right now he’s on the couch snoring like nobody’s business and I may just smother him. But if he lives through tonight, he’ll be my best friend in the morning. All joking aside, every night I lay down and find my spot snuggled up on his chest — the one where I can hear his heartbeat without feeling his hot breath in my ear. Without fail I sigh and thank God for bringing him into my life. Sometimes the prayer of thanks is longer, but most of the time it’s just those words. Marco will never truly grasp how radically he changed my life, but I am forever grateful for his love.

3) Other Parents & Me

To me, this is the hardest part about being a step mom. This is where the middle school girl inside me starts fine tuning insecurities and self doubts. Because let’s get real, I’m totally faking it. I’m a 27 year old step mom with a 10 year old daughter in a school where it seems like all the parents are older, sophisticated, and totally living their dream lives. Now, I know these parents well enough to know that this isn’t actually the case and I even count several of them among my closest friends. But there is nothing more nerve wracking than to be the step mom (with no children of her own, mind you) walking into a parent meeting at school. I feel like a fraud. It’s almost always the same conversation in the car on the way to these things too — Me: Why do I always get so nervous? Marco: I can’t believe you get nervous! You’re a social butterfly and you know these people! Me: I know, but still, I feel like I need to make a good impression for all the step parents out there. Marco: Christi, you’ve known these people for 6 years. YOU’RE FINE. [cut to parking lot where group of parents are walking out after meeting] Me: OMG that was so much FUN!  So and So said that her daughter is going to do XYZ and we’re meeting for lunch tomorrow and blah blah blah!!! Marco:  [holds my hand and smiles smugly]

As irrational as the insecurities are (which most insecurities are irrational anyway) they have a way of gripping me in this particular role of stepmom and not releasing their slimy little claws until that event’s first interaction with another parent. Very rarely am I judged unfairly strictly for being a stepmom. It’s happened once, but it gave Daniela and I the chance to have an incredible conversation about  stereotypes and why this particular person assumed that Dani and I didn’t get along or even like each other. A conversation I never would have thought to have with Daniela without this person sparking it.  Most parents are impressed with my love for Daniela (which always stings a little. Are step parents typically that cold?) Being a step mom has given me so many opportunities. I have been able to help girlfriends adjust when their own children may soon have a stepmom in their lives. I have seen the other side of that coin when friends become stepmoms themselves and I can be an experienced support for them. Being a stepmom is challenging in it’s own way and yet exponentially rewarding. It’s scraped knees and runny noses. Playing dress up, braiding hair and painting nails. It’s the choice to put another person’s needs ahead of your own. But that’s really just all of parenting, now isn’t it?

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Filed Under: Blended Families, Love, Marriage, Step Parenting
Two hands

Two hands

July 25, 2012 by · Leave a Comment

He reaches for me in his sleep and I’ll stay impossibly still as long as it lasts for there is something organically intimate about the gesture.

Thank you God for my husband. Forgive me if I don’t always appreciate him as I should.

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Filed Under: Love, Marriage Tagged With: ,
Spiritual Leadership

Spiritual Leadership

June 21, 2012 by · 5 Comments

 

Our first Homeless Outreach w/ Bayside Community Church

I’ve spent the majority of my life believing in certain roles that a husband and wife should adhere to in the family structure. For example, the “spiritual leader” (my Baptist speak is coming out, sorry!) in the home was to be the husband. “Spiritual leader” was a burden that women should not and were not made to carry — but Marco didn’t really agree with me. Don’t get me wrong, Marco loves God. God is the basis of our family, and Marco is the one to point me back to God when I start to lose faith in His timing. All things considered, however, I am (generally) the one who makes the final decision in “God matters”. Which church we joined? We tried several, but I made the final decision. Small groups? I made that decision. Serving in the church? I made that decision. At first I didn’t see it that way, but one day it hit me that I was the “spiritual leader” in my home, and it made me quite uncomfortable. I grew up in a church that was basically complementarian — a church that believed men and women are equal, but that they have different roles. For instance, a woman may teach a Sunday school class, but is not allowed to preach a Sunday service. She may give a testimony from the pulpit if asked, but is not permitted to speak in authority “over” men. I never questioned that role or the basis used to determine it. This background conflicted with my realization of my role in the family and I began praying that Marco would take over. I felt that we were in need of a role reversal, if you will. I wanted him to make sure we attended church on Sunday. I wanted him to suggest a new small group. I wanted him to take the role of spiritual leader. I sat down with him and he didn’t understand my issue with a women being the spiritual leader. He offered to be better about doing those things, but really felt like I was better equipped to do so. I stood staunch and felt like pushing him was the right thing to do.

Then Holly Wagner entered my life.

{Backstory} We attend Bayside Community Church in Bradenton, Florida. I really believe that Bayside is changing the greater Bradenton/Sarasota area for God. That was the first truly life giving church I’d attended and I felt awkward and out of place with the open, sincere, life giving atmosphere. I felt exposed. I was used to my formal, stark, Baptist church upbringing where I could smile and fake my way through service out of habit. I had never worshipped with authenticity. It was mind blowing. Anyway, I’ve attended Bayside for 5 years and just a few weeks ago was the first time I’d seen them invite a woman pastor to speak. On a Sunday. From the pulpit. Like…preach a sermon. A woman. Whoa.

Right off the bat I liked Holly. She was out there. Fun, but a little crazy. I didn’t know what to think. She co-pastors a church in California and falling back to my complementation background, I assumed that her husband was lead pastor and she was assistant. Nope. She is the lead pastor. *Mind Blown* I liked the idea, but it was going to take some time to digest. It made me squirm a bit. My upbringing was flashing red warning signs. To be quite honest, I don’t remember what she spoke about. I just remember the fact that she spoke, and God used her. From a pulpit. On a Sunday.

A month ago I stumbled upon Unladylike: Resisting the Injustice of Inequality in the Church by Pam Hogeweide. It stayed on my nightstand for a while until I finally found myself picking it up (I totally had to finish Fifty Shades first) ;) It was about 20 pages in that my chest started going tight and I found my breathing picking up. I realized that I was praying for the wrong thing. I can totally be the spiritual leader in my home! Maybe I have been fighting the role God wants me to take up. I truly believe that gifting is spirit based, not gender based. For those unfamiliar with the term, I believe that God gives each and every person a gift — maybe even several that overlap. A better and more thorough explanation is Discover Your God Given Gifts by Don and Katie Fortune.  For example, I am an exhorter with high compassion. Not usually two gifts you see together. I’m weird ;) I am gifted with speaking out, but I have enough compassion to (most of the time) keep from hurting people’s feelings. He made me curious and inquisitive. He also made me outspoken with my questions. He gave me the characteristics and giftings necessary to lead my family. He also gave me the opportunity to do life along side a man who’s strong enough to support me in this role. I can’t imagine how hard it would be for a woman who’s husband fought against it. I thank God for a husband who encourages me and my independence. Who rallies with me and my dreams. Here I was, bemoaning the fact that I have to be the one “in charge” of the “church stuff” and all along God was saying “I made you for this! Don’t fight it, I want to use you in this capacity! Open your eyes! ” At this point in my life, God has made me the “spiritual leader” in my home(for lack of a better word — I really don’t like the connotations it entails). I’m sure this will make a lot of readers uncomfortable, but I’m beginning to embrace it. It’s always a struggle to change a viewpoint but were getting there. With my luck, though, by the time I get there — it will be Marco’s turn. :)

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Filed Under: Faith, Family, Love, Marriage, Women Tagged With: ,
Fighting Fair

Fighting Fair

June 19, 2012 by · 2 Comments

 

   I want to talk about fighting within a re-marriage. And I can, because it’s my     essay :) I’m a pro when it comes to fighting. I grew up practicing with my parents and I’ve mastered it like it’s an Olympic sport. One of the very crucial things I realized in the last few years is that within the boundaries of marriage, (especially re-marriage) there must be some respected rules of fighting.

 

1. Safeword

Ok, all you 50 Shades fans, stop smirking and keep reading! (Hotdamn! Could that series be any hotter!?) Anyway, I honestly believe every marriage needs a safeword (for outside the playroom, in case anyone was wondering). A safeword for fights. Because let’s be honest; words hurt equally, if not more than physical wounds. And when a partner uses a safeword in the realm of sexual pleasure, the other partner is quick to offer comfort and affection. You don’t want your partner to have to safeword. It should be the exact same during a fight. If your partner safewords during a fight, they are saying “stop! you’re hurting me!” and the appropriate response is comfort and affection. Even though we do it because we’re human, deep down I don’t think we really want to hurt our partners. So many times though, whilst fighting, partners are so busy hurling jabs and insults at each other that they aren’t thinking about what their words are doing. And words can have a lasting effect long after the fight is over. A safeword (when used appropriately and not abusively) can keep those meaningless fights from destroying a marriage

2. Kindness

Yes, I know you’re fighting. And yes, I know that you could seriously slit your partner’s throat and not feel the least bit sorry for oh, say, 2 days. Max. But if we all remembered one very simple rule, it would not only curb a lot of disagreements from becoming fights, but it would also keep fights from taking over the evening. Be KIND. No matter he/she says, no matter what he/she insinuated, I will be kind. In reality, this will probably PISS your partner off even more the first few times you incorporate it. Experience speaking here. But keep at it, it pays off.

3. Be REAL

Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Marco and I can’t be the only two people on the planet who do this. Once you reach that point; the point of this-silly-argument-may-end-our-marriage, walls tend to go up. Brick by brick you sling those walls up faster than Thor throwing down his hammer. Once the wall is up, it’s all Game on bitches! You know what I mean. The safe words and kindness have been thrown to the wolves and the fighters are out for blood. That’s when the real damage takes place. That’s when the threats and accusations and past hurts are dredged up from their place of rotting and lit on fire to spear across the territorial line and aim strait for the heart. The heart of the one you love, might I remind you. That’s when, no matter what your opponent (ahem, partner) may say, you’ve got your protective shield up and nothing is getting through. Because A) it’s scary to be super real with your emotions, and B) anger is a lot easier to hold onto than say, vulnerability. If I could bottom line it, I think it all comes down to pride. Plain and simple, pride keeps a lot of fights going when they should have fizzled into I’m sorry’s and then erupted into passionate make up sex. (go back to safeword usage!)

I try to think of it this way: Is this really going to matter in 5 years? If the answer is yes, then hell yeah! bring on the debate! (but Yes responses are pretty rare). No? Ok, there’s probably a better way to get my point across — kindly. This morning my girlfriend instagrammed (I totally used that as a verb) this verse: Colossians 4:6 “Be gracious in your speech. The goal is to bring out the best in others in a conversation, not put them down, not cut them out.” MSG.

At first I was all, oooooh yeeeahhhh, Ok God, I know where that applies in my life (my interaction with Daniela’s mom) but as the day wore on, I realized that there are SO MANY areas that applies to. On the phone with the insurance company that is claiming our client’s date of loss was not within coverage. At the gym when I walked in (unbeknownst) 15 minutes after closing time because they had forgotten to lock the doors. And yes, when Mom #1 is late picking up and I’m trying to keep on schedule. But also when Husband is home after a long day of work and feeling a bit on the…err…snarky side. If I could just keep this verse in the forefront of my mind (which is why I totally made it my background photo on my phone) then maybe my life and my speech would begin to more closely resemble the kindness and mercy in that verse. We’re working on it. I put husband to bed and I’m nursing my 2nd (3rd??) glass of wine. That’s my kindness for now. It’s a work in progress.

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