Sometimes it’s easy to forget.
I look across the bed at my husband, tired from a long week at work, and recognize my own weariness. Weariness, a feeling more common than not. Talking has quickly given way to sleep. Who are these two people?
Sometimes I look back at those two people, ten years younger, and try to remember what initially attracted them to one another. It’s difficult to define.
When we were dating, our relationship was defined by doing. Every weekend dinner dates continued an early set tradition. We eagerly anticipated the opening of new movies, and we experienced music flowing through our veins at many concerts. We cheered at baseball games and yelled at football games. And at night, we were able to stay up into the wee hours of the morning talking and laughing until we would go our separate ways, waiting for our next appointed meeting-the sooner the better.
I look at these two people now, how they’ve changed. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. These are not the same two people from before.
Now, our relationship is defined more by being. We exist together for the same common purpose of serving God and our family, but the days of constant doing are few and far between. No longer do we share weekly dinner dates; we share a quiet dinner around the table after the kids are in bed. We don’t anticipate the opening of new movies; instead, we fight sleep on the couch to watch the ones that are now old. The children come along to those rare sporting events; my eyes aren’t on the game but on three little heads constantly moving in different directions.
I look back at those people from ten years ago, and I begin to think that they are more different from us than alike. I wonder would they still find each other attractive if they met for the first time today? Until one night when he opens his computer…
Ten years ago, he sat at his computer. I watched, tired and helpless, as he set margins, changed fonts. He took my words and made them look beautiful. He took my accomplishments and turned me into a professional. He made my first resumé without my asking, as a gift for one he might love, and I secured my first teaching job comfortably before I graduated.
Ten years ago, he sat at his computer. He set margins, changed fonts. I sat downstairs in my apartment, labeling pages, putting them in order, proving to my professors through those words and sample lessons my ability to teach. Together we worked through the night completing this portfolio that encompassed a year’s worth of work and a journey. I didn’t ask for his help, but he volunteered for the one that he loved, and I received an A+, my final task completed before I graduated.
Five days ago he opened his computer. He set margins, changed fonts. He took my ideas and gave them form. I sat at my computer, made changes to my blog, this hobby now a daily part of me. He changed my changes, making them better. He took my words and made them look beautiful, my words that convey a year’s worth of learning, my journey. I didn’t ask for his help, but he worked for this girl that he still loves, his ways not all that different from when she first graduated.
And I know now that the core of these two people is not all that different from those two of ten years ago.
For this Focus on it Friday, I am thankful for a husband who has always wanted me to succeed, who puts aside his time to show me his love. We’ve changed, our relationship has changed, but the heart of the man who loves me is the same. For what this week are you thankful? Share in the comments or provide a link to your own post.
Originally published at https://jennifervdavis.com on July 23, 2010.