Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Close Enough to Forget: Then I realized...I did not marry a coffee maker

About this series:  We all need encouragement, to be reminded we matter. Sometimes the nearest and dearest to us get the least of that needed encouragement. We've all spread ourselves too thin at times leaving little reserved for the ones we've committed to give to most, our spouse. So we're going to do something about it. We're going to focus on the ones living right under our own roof, sleeping in our own bed. But no worries if you're spouse-free. You can apply the encouragement to someone in your life who needs it: children, co-workers, friends, family members. Any soul will do because we all long to know we are seen and heard. Wherever you see "spouse," substitute someone else's name.  So grab a cup of coffee or whatever it is you're drinking today, and get ready to give a little. You'll be glad you did.
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Today, the lovely Lori is hosting Marie (whom I do not know, but also whom I am sure to love) who is, in her words, a blogger and a homemaker.  She is married to her best friend and is the mama of an amazing baby boy.  She strives to encourage women, especially mothers, in their walk with Jesus.  But most of all, she laughs a lot, and rather loudly, mostly at herself. 
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There are things I encounter as I go about my day. Ordinary objects. I move around them so often
that they don’t even take up space anymore. I know where they are and how they feel and how they
smell and where they reside. The exact amount of room they leave in the rest of the world for me to
keep moving around them. I know exactly what they do, what I use them for, the place they keep, the
purpose they serve. All these things, these residents in my world that occupy my life. Fill it up with the
taking up of space, all in service to me. My bed, bathroom, toothbrush, hairbrush, coffee machine, mug,
couch, coffee table, blanket, TV.

Even my husband.

I move around him like a piece of furniture. That’s where he sits, how he moves, how he smells, how he
sounds. I’ve come to expect these feelings, sounds, movements. At times, they become white noise, like
the other occupants in my life. I shut off my mind and my heart, just expecting his presence, his words,
his touch, his service.

But he’s not an object. He’s a person.

I just expect, use, reuse, abuse.  Like an appliance...


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