SISTER WISDOM : build a better life

There are two kinds of women in the world: those who can wear high heels and those who can't.
But that has nothing to do with this article. Let's start over.

There are two kinds of women in the world: those whose sex drive is weaker than their husbands' and those whose sex drive is stronger than their husbands'.

There's a possibility of a third, minority group of women whose luck in life is to have a sex drive exactly matched by their husbands', but I've yet to meet one. Or maybe I've met one and I just didn't realize it, because that's not the sort of thing you write on your name tag. "Hello, I'm Louise and I'm one of the few happy women whose sex drive is spot on with her husband!" Yeah. It would make for a large name tag, and they always make your lapel look goofy as it is. If you're wearing something with lapels, that is, which these days is as rare as a steak that's still mooing.

Anyway, back to the two kinds of women.
Right off the bat you know which one you are, don't you? That's okay, though, you don't have to tell me. I've conducted a survey, and according to the non-scientific results of my poll, it seems that each scenario is equally common. Yeah, you read that right, you sex-crazed women.

You're not weird or anything, we're just dealing with the residual effect of a fifties-Americana housewife stereotype. You know, the gal who was always baking a pie or vacuuming or holding her new wonder-cleaning product in well-manicured hands. The one whose smile always had that gleaming tooth. The one who most definitely never initiated sex. That one. I just have one thing to say about her:
Why do you think she was always wearing a skirt?

Ponder that.

There's no real rocket science to this subject matter. It's really just another look into the way you're different than the man you married. Either he wants sex more often than you do, or you want sex more often than he does. And, as with all differences that exist between a woman and her husband, this one is superb for generating miscommunication, hurt feelings, anger, frustration, and large expenditures on new lingerie. Not that the last one's a bad thing, necessarily...

Here's where it gets touchy, though. (Touchy... get it? Ha, ha, ha...wait. Why am I the only one laughing?) People seem to have a hard time talking about sex. (Hard time... get... oh never mind.) Well, people talk about sex all the time, actually. They make jokes about it, have casual conversations about it, make endless innuendos about it... but when it comes to a real, honest talk about it with their mate-for-life? AH! Shame, embarrassment, chagrin, fear, stress. The crassness of our culture gives us an infinite supply of dirty jokes and sexual stereotypes, but it doesn't give us any real ways of talking about sex.

Try having a serious conversation about sex and see how many terms come to mind that are demeaning or humorous or just make you feel like a 5th-grader.

The thing is, sex makes us vulnerable. Our culture treats it lightly (and crassly) as a way of covering up the vulnerability without abstaining from the sex. Well, that's great for them (though I have my doubts about the effectiveness of the method) but for two people who are married, vulnerability isn't something we need to avoid. And if we could come to terms with being vulnerable, we could have the conversations we need to have.

Something like this:

The wife whose husband wants sex more often than she does might say, "Honey, I love you and I want you, but I don't want you all the time. I don't know how to explain that because I'm afraid you'll feel hurt or rejected or unwanted, but that's not it at all. I'm just not built the same as you, and sometimes I can't respond the same way you do. I need you to give me a way to be who I am without feeling guilty, angry, and resentful. I need you to help me find the time and the way to switch from being busy, working, stressed to just being with you. Sometimes it takes me a while to get there. It doesn't mean I don't want or need you, it just means I need your patience and understanding."

The wife whose husband wants sex less often than she does might say, "Honey, I love you and I know you want me, but when I initiate and you're not interested I feel so rejected. I know we're different people, but my self-esteem and identity as a woman is all tied up in how sexy you think I am. When you're not interested in sex and I am, I feel rejected not just as your wife but as a woman. I start questioning everything about myself - my looks, my body, my desirability, your love, my sex appeal. I really need affirmation from you. I need help to understand that you still find me appealing and desirable, but you need time to switch gears, too."

I don't know. What if we could have conversations like that? What if we could broach the subject without being silly or oversensitive? Would that change things? Would it improve our relationships? I think so. I think it would remove much of the stress. And I think if some of the stress were removed from the whole subject, we would have a lot more fun.

Fun is good.

Oh, by the way, did you figure out which kind of woman I am?

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Images courtesy of mistress_f and x ray delta one.

The story of our marriage begins back in the 1990s.

Okay, actually further back than that, in the 1980s, when a very young Joe had a crush on the little red-headed neighbor girl, and a very young Annie, miles away, decided she wanted to marry a brown-eyed Italian boy when she grew up.

Then they met.

They were both 14, or thereabouts, full of awkward adolescence, trying to be cool. Joe was a kind but rebel skateboarder, with deep brown eyes and an Italian mama. Annie was an earnest but skeptical Southern girl, with fair freckled skin and red hair. He watched her, she watched him. "Hm," they both thought. "Hmm. Interesting."

Then our fanatical parents decided to become even more fanatical by doing a home church together. Home school, home church, why not? And, actually, it was great. And he was there, with his family. I was there, with my family. We tried not to stare at each other while we were supposed to be singing.

That went on for about 4 years, all through high school. Our families were good friends, and Joe and I became good friends too, as much as you can when you really really like each other but you're trying not to acknowledge that. I talked to my parents about him. Once I even talked to his parents about him (one of the hardest things I've ever done). And, unbeknownst to either of us, our parents talked to each other about us. No, no betrothal or arranged marriage or anything like that. Just a kind of nice conversation along the lines of... Hey, if they're ever interested in each other, we think that's great!

Ever interested in each other? What an understatement! Meanwhile, we invented "full-contact basketball" and enjoyed a few games before a random parent walked out to the driveway mid-game. That was the end of that. Home school kids can get creative, and not always in a good way.

We were strange little teenagers,

but we were sincerely trying to follow God. And for both of us, at that time, it meant "just being friends" and trying (though we failed miserably many times) not to flirt, not to go where we shouldn't. Did we know we liked each other? Yes and no. I knew, but I was afraid to really believe. What if I was wrong? What if I counted on him liking me and I was just way off? And he thought, he hoped, but he wasn't sure either.

Then I graduated high school (I'm a year older than he is) and then we moved. Away. Back to Mississippi. 500+ miles away from Joe. A thousand little signs that could be interpreted as "I like you, I love you, please wait for me" but no actual conversation along those lines. I started college, he finished high school. I met a lot of nice college boys, some of whom were quite distracting. Then Joe and his family would come down to visit (because we were all good friends), or we would all go to St. Louis, and suddenly those nice college boys were just not so interesting. They were nice, but Joe was more. He was unique, he was deep, he was funny, he was adventurous, he wasn't just like everybody else.

One day I was at the bottom of

the lowest of emotional lows.

We had just seen each other, and once again it was the most exciting, heart-wrenching experience. I was 20 or 21, I don't remember the exact date. But I do remember sitting on the floor with my Bible, crying and crying out: "God, just tell me. Just tell me. Do I need to let go? Is this wrong? Am I wrong? Or is he the one, the one from You? Do I just need to wait, to hold on?"

I opened my Bible and read the story of Abraham going on a journey. Going on a journey down to the South. Sojourning there. And then returning to the place where he "had been at the beginning... to the place of the altar which he had made there at first" (Genesis 13:3,4). And as clear as if a voice had spoken from heaven or a finger had written on the wall, I knew. I knew my part was just to wait, to hold on. I knew God would take me back, back to St. Louis, back to Joe.

And He did.

There are intervening years, circumstances, signs, stories, tears, prayers. But in the space between that moment of knowing and the moment Joe proposed on a Florida beach at sunrise, I didn't doubt anymore.

We got married on September 5 of 2004 in my parents' backyard. Three kids and almost six years later, it is still

the best reality I've ever known.

What's your story? I'd love to hear it. Do share.

Every happy couple looks different.

Your version of wedded bliss isn't the same as mine. (Good thing, huh?)

But all the happy couples have at least one thing in common: they make sure that the things they love about each other take up more space than the things they don't like. Read the rest of this entry »

A problem shared is a problem halved.

Pull Out the “FAIL” Stamp

I am the worst person in the world to be writing any sort of advice about how to be transparent. I'm an introvert (mostly). My counterpart in the animal kingdom is a clam. I am really good at hiding my feelings, so good, in fact, that sometimes I don't even know what I really feel. Crying for no reason, to me, is the equivalent of a big fat FAIL stamped on my forehead.

Transparency, to me, seems like the worst kind of weepy emotionalism in the world.

But somehow the alternate titles I had didn't fit.

• Marriage Key: Isolation
• Marriage Key: Avoidance
• Marriage Key: Stoicism

Yeah.

How Do They Do That?

Even though I don't like the emotional woman stereotype, and even though I kind of laugh at my more, er, expressive friends, to be quite honest (or transparent), I'm kind of jealous. I wish it were that easy, that natural for me to show emotions. I wish I didn't have to actually make the conscious decision to let my guard down.

But I do. That's me. And it's a work in progress.

From the Trenches

All I can do is offer you some advice from the trenches. I don't know much about transparency, but I do know this: if you want a happy marriage, you better start figuring out how to be transparent with your spouse.

You can't build trust and intimacy when you're not willing to let yourself be seen and known for who you really are. But that's what is so difficult, because I know that who I am isn't all that great sometimes. And to be transparent means to be vulnerable. It means that I let someone important see all the ugliness, all the pettiness, all the mistakes and pride and manipulation and jealousy and what-have-you.

Ech.

Real Love Welcomes You

The one and only reason I'm still pursuing this transparency concept is this: when you let yourself be known as you are, and you find that you are still accepted, you begin to experience love as you never have before.

If you've been holding your husband at arm's length, stop. If you've been hiding who you really are behind no emotions or some sort of showy, shallow display, stop. Be real. Stop cheating yourself out of real love.

5-Minute Marriage Check

It's tempting, oh so tempting, to use anger as a self-protective tool. We get emotional, and we show it, and then we feel vulnerable, so we get angry to cover up our own raw emotions.

Anger works really well.

Why is it so difficult for us to say calmly, even sweetly:

That hurt my feelings. I'm sad. I'm upset. I'm lonely. I'm confused. I need help. I'm uncertain. I have no confidence right now. I need a hug. I need a friend.

5-Minute Action Point

Your assignment is to pin your emotions down in that instant before the anger-drive kicks in and clouds everything. In that instant, define what you feel. Then share it; right away, if you can, or later, if you need a little while to turn the anger switch off.

Let your husband know what's going on in your heart and in your head. If you can't say it, write it down.

Whatever you do, be honest. Don't let the instinct for self-defense keep you from the beauty of intimate, vulnerable, honest transparency.

Image courtesy of Janine.

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This post is {day 29} of the Build a Better Marriage Challenge.

It's a 30-day challenge to be deliberate about building a better marriage. We'll talk about some of the common obstacles to a better marriage (marriage killers) and some of the important habits for a successful marriage (marriage keys). We'll also work through some of the misconceptions that affect our marriage, faulty thinking we've picked up from our culture, our pasts, and maybe even from the church. Each day's reading will end with a 5-minute marrige check and a 5-minute action point, so you can take it on home.

Join in via the Mr Linky on the challenge page. You can also just read along, but remember that all challenge participants will receive a free copy of the ebook at the end of the challenge.

Here's to better, stronger, happier marriages!

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What we do today, right now, will have an accumulated effect on all our tomorrows.

-Alexandra Stoddard

Value Judgments

“Every Yes I say to something out, about, away,” a wise woman once told me, “is a No I have to say to my family.”

She didn't mean that you shouldn't ever say Yes to anybody but family.

She didn't mean that it's wrong to ever say No to your husband.

She meant that you need to see the true cost of each choice you make. If it's worth it, great. But if it's not? Let it go on by. Life is too short to waste. Read the rest of this entry »

Sometimes you just got to let it go.

Short End of the Shtick

I had a good cry last night and felt immensely better. It's difficult for me to just cry, let out the excess emotion, and then pick up and go on with good heart: I want to analyze and find a problem that caused the need for the crying. Read the rest of this entry »

Protect yourself and your husband from the subtle ways of infidelity.

This article was written by my sister, Mileah Hodge. She has walked through fires and come out shining like gold, with humbleness and wisdom to build a strong marriage.

Yellow light means CAUTION

Caution lights usually mean SLOW down and assess the situation as you approach. God has given us built-in caution sensors. We know when something is wrong. We can be blowing through life at 70 miles per hour but when we sense the caution light, we slow down. It is our God-given nature and duty to protect our home. Read the rest of this entry »

Make time for him.

Find out what romantic means for your husband.

Let him know what romantic means for you.

Be appreciative.

Love seems the swiftest but it is the slowest of all growths. No man or woman really knows what perfect love is until they have been married a quarter of a century.

~Mark Twain Read the rest of this entry »

If we are ever to enjoy life, now is the time, not tomorrow or next year.... Today should always be our most wonderful day.

-Thomas Dreier

The Witching Hour

Every day, just before the time my husband is going to get home from work, something strange happens in my home. The kids have just had a long nap and a snack, but they get inexplicably whiny. The house looks dirty all of a sudden. The pile of laundry on the bed increases fourfold. The plans I had for dinner seem inadequate, and my feet hurt, my back hurts, my head hurts, and what-I-wouldn't-give for a little peace and quiet...

Welcome home, honey.

I'm embarrassed at the times Joe's walked in the door to that atmosphere. It seems like on those days, when I've "just had it" and all I need is a little relief, he's just had it at work too.

I'm drained; he's drained. All I want is to sit down; all he needs is a little rest. My day was constantly busy, but seems unproductive now; his, too. The kids are clamoring for our attention, and when Joe and I meet eyes it's with a mutual question of "How soon can bedtime come?"

Whose Fault Is It, Anyway?

I blame it on the undone items, usually. If I hadn't had so much to do, if I'd gotten a bit more done, if the Read the rest of this entry »