When we were first married, I used to facetiously insist that my husband and I match and share everything.
"We have to be the same," I would say, "Because we're married."
It drove him crazy, and I loved it. I would order what he'd order at restaurants.
"Because we're married," I'd whisper and wink seductively.
And he'd roll his eyes and laugh.
"Yeah, and you married me... how do you feel now?"
Yesterday, I taught a piano lesson to a grandmother. I love teaching her because she's so full of truth and she gets as worked up over my new table as I do.
"We all need that one person,"she said to me over the F scale, "That we can swear at in anger and they will still love us without judgement because they know our hearts."
She is so right.
That person, for me, is my Savior.
But how wonderful and glorious would it be if I had another person like that... and that person were my husband? Provided the Savior is the FIRST person I go to for safety, the idea of having my spouse be another person I can swear at and still be received with love? The idea seems ethereal.
When my husband came home from work, I confessed to him that I was afraid to make mistakes in front of him.
"I know I have a temper... I'll try harder to..."
But I cut him off there. That wasn't what I was driving at.
"The thing is," I said, "I don't think you're comfortable making mistakes around me either... I think we both feel like the other will judge our actions."
And he nodded.
And then we had a moment... the kind of moment Nicholas Sparks DOESN'T expound on. The "hey, we both suck at marriage and we suck TOGETHER" kind of moment.
Okay, so we don't suck at marriage totally... but you understand what I'm saying. It was special. A Dear Diary kind of thing. Or Dear Bloggery. Whatever.
I took his face in my hands, looked into his eyes and said, "I want to feel comfortable making mistakes in front of you."
And then we both laughed, but I wouldn't let go of his bearded face, "Say it back to me... do it.... do it..."
"I want to feel comfortable making mistakes in front of you," he echoed.
"Even if it's hard," I said.
"Even if it's hard," he echoed.
"Even if it's scary," I said.
"Even if it's scary," he echoed.
"Even if it hurts," I said.
Instantly, his eyes filled with fear.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked.
I dropped his face and laughed.
Oh, we have a long row to hoe.
We are the same... because we're married.
Turns out, I was right all along. Sad...