I think of this small chore as one of the ways I show my love for my husband. If I've been less focused on him lately, folding his socks is a way of saying to myself and to him "Yes, I love you. Yes, I choose you again to be the most important person in my life." Lifting the socks into neat rows in his dresser drawer, I mentally neaten up our relationship all over again: time to choose more patience, more listening, more appreciation.
Recently I read an essay about how necessary it is for husbands and wives to consciously choose their spouses over again every day, choose to love them, to stay faithful, to share their lives. Maybe we have to choose each other several times a day!
When we were younger, sometimes we had loud, long arguments, and I would be so angry and hurt by the end of one that I'd feel as if I'd married a stranger. I'd shut myself up in our attic and brood: How could he think that way?! I'd have to make a conscious choice about my marriage: yes, he and our marriage were worth the trials, the anger, the hurt. I just had to come back downstairs and be patient with him through this tough time. I had to love him enough to work hard on communication. And he chose to be patient with me, for the same reason! Later, after we'd talked things through, and put our arms around each other, there was always such a sense of accomplishment and peace.
Often, I have to be patient with myself. I tend to be a workaholic, and routinely I drive myself to the point of exhaustion and end up on the couch or in bed, down for the count for a day or two. And my husband gets worried. And he doesn't know what to do. Because he always thinks he has to fix things. I snarl (I tend to snarl when I collapse like this) "JUST LEAVE ME ALONE. JUST LET ME SLEEP OR READ. ALONE!!!! THEN I WILL BE FINE!!!!"
This collapse of mine is something that happens like clockwork every few months, and Paul still doesn't get it. He still wants to hover. I still want to be left alone. I still hurt his feelings. I still have to apologize. So I lose patience with myself: why can't I change? About all of this? I'm a lousy wife. Forgiveness has to happen, over and over, and for some reason once again my husband chooses his neurotic wife. And I choose him because I can't think of anyone else who would put up with my neurosis! And I choose to accept my fragile self and forgive myself. I guess I keep hoping that I can learn to slow down. Having an older body that can't be pushed so hard has definitely helped. We choose each others' older, worn bodies now, and even laugh a little.
Cleaning and straightening a bathroom is a wonderful way to choose a spouse all over again. Checking the roll of toilet paper makes me remember the times my husband, exasperated, has said "WHY do you always leave just a little bit on the end so I end up changing the roll?" Why indeed? I must choose to take my head out of the clouds and become more aware. Cleaning the floor reminds me of the time I was in the living room and thought I heard a tiny call and I rushed to the bathroom to find Paul collapsed on the bathroom floor from a bleeding ulcer. To this day, he insists that he barely whispered my name. Somehow by God's grace, I heard him.
Cleaning the toilet reminds me of the innumerable times I've thrown up in that toilet bowl and my husband's been the one to nurse me through my illness, bringing me hot mugs of tea and crispy cinnamon toast. Cleaning the sink reminds me of the unique man Paul is, how meticulous he is about being clean-shaven, how he uses a straight razor with a cake of soap and taught his sons how to shave like he does. How I've always loved the scent of his Old Spice aftershave. Yes, I choose him again!
Long ago, Paul and I both chose to make God a part of our marriage. God is the One Who holds us together, Who inspires us to understand and accept each other and ourselves, Who strengthens us during the times we walk through dark valleys of illness and loss. We've had to be patient with God as He has led us through harrowing tragedies when we've sobbed in each others' arms and cried "Why, God? Why are You allowing this to happen? Where are You?" Yet somehow as my husband and I clung to each other for strength, the bond of our marriage grew stronger. We learned that we could depend on each other and take turns being strong for one another. Once again, even in those dark valleys, we chose each other.
Choosing a spouse over and over again through the years and tears and angers and fears is the way our loving married life together grows richer, and more rewarding. Our daily choices for each other are supported by God, Who chooses to help us become more and more perfectly united in Him. Choosing each other in patient faith, hope, and love is the path we take to God, hand in hand, and to the eternal life He promises us, a life together forever.