The Differences that Matter
My husband works with my best friend's husband. They will each get a turkey and a ham from the company for Christmas. We're going to be at my mom's for Christmas, all of us. My mom already bought a turkey for then. We found out today that Andy's mom is sending us a ham to be delivered on December 20th (his parents live in New Mexico). And so, for a total of seven adults and three kids, we have: 3 whole Turkeys and 3 hams. Now, my logical thought is that we'll be lucky if we can eat one whole turkey and ham. I know we're only cooking one of each. So my thought? I got excited. I mean, how cheesy is that? I got all sorts of excited and looked at my husband and said, "We can give them away!" Now, just in case you don't follow my line of thinking, and apparently very few do, I know there are plenty of people around here who can't afford to buy presents, much less turkeys and hams for a big Christmas dinner. And if I can't find anyone, which is extremely unlikely, then Tally or Candi or Jon or someone knows somebody who needs it. Now, I feel great because we can actually do something to help! Hey, we can't really pay the bills right now, but we aren't paying them with hams anyway, right?
What happened next wasn't nearly as surprising as it should have been, but I can't get it out of my mind. My husband said, "Why? We can freeze them." Okay, give him the benefit of the doubt. I asked, "Well, how long will they keep?" He says, "A few months." I said, "We won't cook them by then, we'll just end up throwing them out." He disagreed, wholeheartedly. I challenged that we would never eat it. Besides, I don't even like turkey. He said we'd eat it. Eventually. Even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true.
The differences that matter are starting to show up more readily now, and it scares me a little. It's as though I start to see life in more black-and-whites and less greys, those differences are coming out so starkly that I don't know how to handle it most of the time. I mean, how do you honor your husband when he's being tightfisted and everything in you is screaming to help them! Make a difference! It's like watching someone struggle to pound a nail with their hands, and someone hands you a hammer. And then my husband says "if you love me, you'll just hide the hammer. I'm sure we'll use it later."
I remember halloween being so hard. I was so stressed out, because I'd said I would put stickers with the church's info on it on the candy we were handing out, but I knew Andy would hate the idea. As I was stickering the candy, I was playing different scenarios in my head. My husband is usually the one handing out the candy, and I kept imagining him making this big deal out of it and refusing to hand out stickered candy. Or he'd just start picking on me and all the guys there would follow suit. Or something like that. I told myself that it was fine, and if he wouldn't hand out the candy, then I'd do it myself. Truthfully, though, I was scared to death; I wasn't sure I'd do that at all. Truth is, I might've just walked away. As I sat at my kitchen table stickering candy and praying he'd just hand it out without incident (literally praying that),
he called and said he wouldn't be there until about 7:30 instead of 6:00 like he'd planned. I was so incredibly relieved. Pathetic how little courage I have around him, isn't it? I felt like such a sad mockery of what I'm supposed to be; I don't even have the strength to defend my God against those closest to me. But I'm getting there. Slowly, I'm becoming bolder, braver, more willing to stand against the wrong.
Then there's Andy. I love him, and I know he loves me. But there are times when I feel like he only knows the parts of me he wants to. And he's just content to pretend that the biggest part of me doesn't exist, doesn't matter.
As for the turkey and ham, I'm going to keep trying. Nobody needs that much freaking meat. I think I'm boycotting. I'm having bologna for Christmas dinner. Watch me.
What happened next wasn't nearly as surprising as it should have been, but I can't get it out of my mind. My husband said, "Why? We can freeze them." Okay, give him the benefit of the doubt. I asked, "Well, how long will they keep?" He says, "A few months." I said, "We won't cook them by then, we'll just end up throwing them out." He disagreed, wholeheartedly. I challenged that we would never eat it. Besides, I don't even like turkey. He said we'd eat it. Eventually. Even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true.
The differences that matter are starting to show up more readily now, and it scares me a little. It's as though I start to see life in more black-and-whites and less greys, those differences are coming out so starkly that I don't know how to handle it most of the time. I mean, how do you honor your husband when he's being tightfisted and everything in you is screaming to help them! Make a difference! It's like watching someone struggle to pound a nail with their hands, and someone hands you a hammer. And then my husband says "if you love me, you'll just hide the hammer. I'm sure we'll use it later."
I remember halloween being so hard. I was so stressed out, because I'd said I would put stickers with the church's info on it on the candy we were handing out, but I knew Andy would hate the idea. As I was stickering the candy, I was playing different scenarios in my head. My husband is usually the one handing out the candy, and I kept imagining him making this big deal out of it and refusing to hand out stickered candy. Or he'd just start picking on me and all the guys there would follow suit. Or something like that. I told myself that it was fine, and if he wouldn't hand out the candy, then I'd do it myself. Truthfully, though, I was scared to death; I wasn't sure I'd do that at all. Truth is, I might've just walked away. As I sat at my kitchen table stickering candy and praying he'd just hand it out without incident (literally praying that),
he called and said he wouldn't be there until about 7:30 instead of 6:00 like he'd planned. I was so incredibly relieved. Pathetic how little courage I have around him, isn't it? I felt like such a sad mockery of what I'm supposed to be; I don't even have the strength to defend my God against those closest to me. But I'm getting there. Slowly, I'm becoming bolder, braver, more willing to stand against the wrong.
Then there's Andy. I love him, and I know he loves me. But there are times when I feel like he only knows the parts of me he wants to. And he's just content to pretend that the biggest part of me doesn't exist, doesn't matter.
As for the turkey and ham, I'm going to keep trying. Nobody needs that much freaking meat. I think I'm boycotting. I'm having bologna for Christmas dinner. Watch me.
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