{a lesson in marriage that started at a gas station}
I hung my head out the window of the van and tried to shout over the loud roar of the car beside us step by step instructions to Ben on how to pump gas. Which went something like…
“put the card in slowly, buddy.”
“no.. slooooooowly.”
“bud. put the card in and count to three, then take it out…”
“count slower…”
“how bout I count…”
“I think you need to turn the card the other way…”
“no.. the other other way.”
“to the left…”
“your other left…”
“what? the screen says pay inside…?”
“I’m not walking all the way inside… “
“get in. we’re going across the road to that other station…”
The loud beep that alerts you when the van door is open begins going off…
“close the door, bud….”
“what do you mean it won’t close….?”
“well, get over in the other seat and buckle up…”
“stay away from the open door. we’re just going right across the road…”
I notice the curious look on the face of the bald headed older man pumping his gas nearby as we pull up.
Ben jumped out and began the whole credit card slide again…
“slower, bud.”
“the other left.”
I felt a drop of what I thought was rain coming in the open window… splashing in just the right spot that created this perfect ricochet from the top of the window to the lower half of my face.
“It’s raining, buddy. Hurry up.”
Kate – “Mom, we’re under a roof. I don’t think that’s rain…”
Looking up and realizing she was right, just about the time another drop of the water came down and splashed below my eye.
“Look out, bud… we’re moving to that one behind us!”
Ben must not have heard me as he stood looking confused with the gas pump in hand as I pulled back…
Then forward. Then back again. {that’s the part of my drivers test i failed – the whole parallel parking thing}
Ben started walking towards me –
“that one won’t reach all the way here, buddy… “
“put it down… “
“not down there.. back in the slot!!!!!!”
Kate – “Mom, that man’s creeping me out. He keeps staring at us!”
“Well, I’d probably be staring at us too, sweetie.”
I stuck my head out the window and began the step by step scenario with Ben once more…
“that’s right, bud… “
“you got it…!”
“now flip the lever up…”
Took us a minute to realize the lever didn’t flip, instead there was a button to push! But eventually we got it. And as I saw the numbers start flying up on the pump, I laid my tired head against the door…
It was late. Almost 11. It had been a long day. And I had been on my feet way more than I should have been.
I hadn’t wanted to miss the parent presentation for VBS though. That’s the problem – I don’t want to miss anything. 
Even conversation with friends I hadn’t seen in awhile… so instead of telling them I was feeling a incredible burning sensation that could possibly lead to me dropping this baby out right then and there on the back parking lot of church, I stood and talked!
But now, as I sat there contemplating spending the night in the Speedway parking lot, dreading the 35 min. drive home, I was regretting it.
And suddenly, I felt this huge irritation rise up inside me – -
“This is Shayne’s fault!” I thought.
No. I’m not talking about the pregnancy part… 
…we had driven in together and I wondered why he hadn’t noticed the low fuel light on? Which is rather a point of contention between us that has some funny history behind it. To summarize – me thinking you get gas when the red gauge is ABOVE the e. and him thinking you get gas when the red gauge is BELOW the e!!!! But I didn’t know one of the guys who works for him had driven his truck to church that night and so he needed to drive it home. But I also didn’t know that Shayne didn’t know that either until he got there. And since afterwards I wanted to stay and talk longer, he had went ahead and left in the truck with Emma.
I called him on his cell to voice my irritation…. and to give him a play by play of our whole attempt to get gas where you had to pay inside so we crossed the street with the van door open where I got water splashed on my head! And oh, “by the way.. would you please work with our son on his left and right!!!!”
He listened patiently.
Apologized. Empathized.
Tried explaining he would have gotten gas on our way home, not knowing he needed to bring the truck… or, if I had been ready to leave earlier would have followed me home, getting the gas for me then.
I ignored the very logical reasons, choosing to grunt my dissatisfaction instead and hold on to my self pity.
Not feeling the irritation deflating in the slightest –
only my ever swollen feet seemingly inflating more with every second.
When I got home I went straight to the tub…
then sat up late downstairs reading.
Finally, several hours after Shayne had already gone to bed, I went up.
When I walked into our room I immediately stopped…
Our bed was empty. All neat and smoothed with my 4 pillows lined up and ready for me to climb into…
And Shayne was sound asleep, on the floor!
In that instant my self absorbed childishness melted away.
You see, I KNEW why he was on the floor! Not in some kind of protest or display of frustration or anger. He was there because I’ve been having been having such a hard time sleeping at night… having a mattress that seems to roll you to the middle doesn’t help. And the past few nights he had suggested he could sleep on the couch or in one of the kids beds so I could be more comfortable… thinking maybe if I slept in the middle of the bed to begin with verses rolling there I would sleep a bit more peacefully.
And without him having to tell me that’s what he was doing, I knew…
Knew that when I deserved selfishness, in return he was showing me selflessness.
Knew that when my pride had spewed words of ungratefulness and hurt, he was showing me tenderness and understanding.
Knew that when I most did not deserve his love, he was showing me his love wasn’t conditioned upon my performance.
And yes, I know I’m super pregnant and maybe slightly emotional because of it right now… but as I crawled into my big comfy bed and felt my tense muscles relaxing, and savored the calm quietness of the house, I felt tears wanting to spill out that didn’t really have anything to do with being super pregnant or unexplainably emotional…
I felt humbled. convicted. and very sobered.
I had just been talking to a friend that day who is going through such a tough time in her marriage right now.. and recently heard from two other friends struggling also – - and I became so burdened as I lay there in the dark realizing the tremendous attack there is against marriages right now, everywhere you turn!
I thought of how there was a time in my life when I would have heard of couples struggling and pridefully thought – that will never be us! And yet in more recent years been brought low and shaken to my core by how quickly something we think is so precious and untouchable and different than what others have can suddenly become painful and hard and seemingly hopeless.
And it struck me that just as it’s the small things that can tear our marriages apart, so it’s the small things that build it up as well…
choosing to forgive when the other doesn’t deserve it.
to yield when you don’t have to.
to see past a fault.
to keep trying.
to not give up.
be vulnerable.
write that love note.
give that hug.
that kiss.
the unconditional love.
make the effort.
do what it takes.
never stop wanting better.
wanting more.
going deeper.
it’s possible.
there’s hope.
The little things that communicate in such a big way~
So what started in a seemingly insignificant normal every day lesson to my son on how to pump gas –
ended with a very significant lesson {revisited yet again} on what helps make a marriage work.
And it’s certainly not in having a spouse that’s always there to fill my tank every time I need him.
{And yes, I’m talking about more than just the tank on my van – I’m talking the emotional tank inside me}
Sure, my husband is going to fail and disappoint and hurt me – just like I did him last night.
But when my focus shifts from the horizontal to the vertical… from what he’s not doing, to what God wants me to do. Learning by His grace and at the foot of the cross what it means to selflessly love verses loving myself first. Then, and only then do the prideful blinders fall from my self absorbed infected eyes and cause me to see these “little things” that matter so much.
{practicing our drive to the hospital – teehee!}
They say that fighting isn’t good in a marriage – but if you’re both fighting for a better marriage… well, I say fight away!!!
¸.·´¸.·¨) ¸.·¨)
(¸.·´ (¸.·´ (¸.·¨¯`♥ amber
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