a couple of weeks later...
This morning I find myself reflecting...inspecting history, my recent history. What is shaping me, what is moving me, what is hindering me, what is compelling me?
One moment a couple of weeks ago continues to resurface day after day. It was a night where Heidi and I were less than amused with each other. Sometimes intimacy feels like Normandy. You know, war. A war over differing perspective, family upbringing, and personal needs. A war over insecurity and insensitivity. A war over familiarity and indifference. A war over selfishness.
At the end of our 15 round heavy weight bout, we were sitting in our corners wondering who would emerge the victor(if you're married, you realize that no one wins when someone wins), and like always, the silence started to counsel our hearts.
I don't know who broke the silence with a personal confession of selfishness first (probably Heidi), but that started the journey back to each other's hearts. I love that journey back. And this leads me to the memory that has been swelling in my heart for a couple weeks. It was a simple phrase spoken in the darkness and silence of our bedroom that awakened a strength in me that only my wife can unleash. As she was sharing her love for me, she leaned over and spoke these words into my spirit, "I love what you're made of."
I can't get that phrase out of my mind. I guess it's because I wonder what I'm made of sometimes. I wonder if I'm made of much at all. I wonder what ingredients are at the core of my make up.
My wife loves what I'm made of. It's funny that a couple of weeks later I'm still held hostage to that little momentary expression. I read on a blog this morning that your mate really has the power to name you. I think that night my wife named me. A name I'm proud to bear. A name that speaks against every accusation of hell. A name given by the crown of my heart, my beloved Heidi.
"I love what you're made of."
One moment a couple of weeks ago continues to resurface day after day. It was a night where Heidi and I were less than amused with each other. Sometimes intimacy feels like Normandy. You know, war. A war over differing perspective, family upbringing, and personal needs. A war over insecurity and insensitivity. A war over familiarity and indifference. A war over selfishness.
At the end of our 15 round heavy weight bout, we were sitting in our corners wondering who would emerge the victor(if you're married, you realize that no one wins when someone wins), and like always, the silence started to counsel our hearts.
I don't know who broke the silence with a personal confession of selfishness first (probably Heidi), but that started the journey back to each other's hearts. I love that journey back. And this leads me to the memory that has been swelling in my heart for a couple weeks. It was a simple phrase spoken in the darkness and silence of our bedroom that awakened a strength in me that only my wife can unleash. As she was sharing her love for me, she leaned over and spoke these words into my spirit, "I love what you're made of."
I can't get that phrase out of my mind. I guess it's because I wonder what I'm made of sometimes. I wonder if I'm made of much at all. I wonder what ingredients are at the core of my make up.
My wife loves what I'm made of. It's funny that a couple of weeks later I'm still held hostage to that little momentary expression. I read on a blog this morning that your mate really has the power to name you. I think that night my wife named me. A name I'm proud to bear. A name that speaks against every accusation of hell. A name given by the crown of my heart, my beloved Heidi.
"I love what you're made of."
Comments
would love to catch up soemtime