Because "I love you" Isn't Always Enough

When I married my husband I was a "free spirit." I use that term to cover a myriad of housekeeping/lifestyle messes. I had piles of clothes in my room, a layer of dust on my piano, and piles of dishes in a sink. Because, you see, I was a creative person. What is "creative" about gray algae growing over last week's casserole dish, I'm not sure, but that was my excuse.

Scott was the first man I said, "I love you" to, and the gravity of that became deeply rooted over our dating. Saying "love" meant saying "sacrificially give." When I told this skinny, tired, desperately-in-need-of-food, but-oh-so-handsome seminary intern "I love you" I was actually saying "I will willingly sacrifice and give to you." 

But when marriage revealed that he was a morning person and a "neat freak." I became disgruntled. He was also incredibly methodical and enjoyed a consistent schedule. I love adventure and daily variety. 

So, there I was: a creative, adventurous free spirit, who had said "I love you" to a methodical, clean, early bird.

And I became concerned. I told my husband "I love you!" a hundred times per day. But I didn't load the dishwasher. I would cuddle him and plan fun outings, but laundry would pile up. I would praise his spiritual leadership in our home, and then hit the snooze button 13 times and doze my way through what should have been my quiet time. 

When I said, "I love you" I was lying.

Not willingly. Not whole-heartedly. Not even knowingly... but I slowly woke to the realization that my husband might hear my love, but he wouldn't experience my love. 

I wasn't sacrificing for my husband on a daily basis. I wasn't telling my supposed-creativity "no." There was no indication in my daily life that I actually was practicing what my mouth was proclaiming.

So... I started washing dishes.

I came up with a laundry schedule.

I told myself that staying home on Friday night was not a crime. And I found ways to make being a homebody fun. (New pop corn recipes and "Quiddler," anyone?) I stopped sobbing every time our weekend wasn't filled with social engagements. (It's shocking how often I did this...)

My husband really likes everything put away. I came up with a schedule every morning and every evening to guarantee that our house would be tidy.

I got up in the morning.

And slowly. almost without realizing it, I began to change. I started loving having the clothes put away. I enjoyed a tidy kitchen. Staying home and cuddling with my family became fun. I turned into a morning person.

One morning this spring, I woke up, at 5 a.m., looked around my tidy room, and realized that I had changed. These things were no longer work. They were just simply the ways that I loved my husband. And I enjoyed them.

Now, I must caveat this post... my husband never bullied me into changing. He never made my life miserable. I voluntarily chose to make his life easier by removing certain things that were quiet stresses. We could do another post about how he loves adventure and exploring with me. We could talk about how our house is a den of creativity (he lets me paint all over my walls, and just grins when my new decorating/teaching/planning craze takes over). 

And you know what? Increased discipline (getting up early, organizing closets, and keeping a tidy house) actually increases my creativity! I may have less time to be lazy, but I have more time to create in a happy, sunshiny place (without first brushing off a layer of dusty and grime).

This picture is a picture of our new harmony. There's writing on the wall, a crazy reupholstered chair, and a little bit of quirkiness. But it's clean. When I stopped merely saying "I love you" and started acting like I loved him, beautiful blessings abounded. I'm clearly not perfect at this, but I'm delighting in growing in "I love you" actions.