By Ashley McIlwain

It had been one of those weeks. One thing after another, and yet nothing major. Just small dings, bumps, and bruises that began to add up and weigh on me. As the week went on, I felt like a 2 liter of soda being shaken harder and harder with the pressure mounting and threatening to explode at any moment.

That Saturday night it came to a head. There was just one more frustration that had poked at me, and it was the straw that broke this camel’s back. Instead of bursting like an overfilled water balloon and vomiting out the emotional turmoil that was raging inside of me, I did what I typically do. I shut down.

Driving home from church, I just grew cold, silent, and withdrawn. My poor husband was perplexed because, to him, this was seemingly out of the blue. Had he done something wrong? Said something wrong? He inquired into the sudden shift in my mood, but it was too late. I had entered into my pensive shell where I went into preservation mode.

We got home, and I immediately went into our bedroom, grabbed a box of tissues, propped myself up on a pillow, and sat in the dark silence. The thoughts and emotions whirled and swirled in my head and heart as I tried to get a grip on what my problem was. Much like my husband, I was caught off guard by how upset I was without any real reason.

Like an old-school VHS tape, I pressed rewind in my mind replaying the week’s events. Where did it all begin, and where did it all go wrong? Why was I so emotional, hurt, and upset? At what point was the match struck and my fuse lit? I began to piece together all of the triggers that had collaboratively created the emotional storm inside of me.

After about thirty minutes of my racing thoughts in the silent stillness of our dark bedroom, my husband came in to check on me. I could literally feel his hesitation. Clearly I was upset without and obvious cause, and while he wanted to support me, I think there may have been a touch of fear of how I would react to him. Courageously though, he slid next to me on the bed and grabbed my hand. We just laid there silent for about five minutes before he turned to me, and said, “Ash, what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

What could I tell him? There was not just one thing but rather a barrage of seemingly insignificant things that had added up and were beginning to swallow me. After thinking about it a minute, I told him nothing and not to worry about me. “I’ll snap out of it soon enough.” Unsatisfied, he pressed gently, “Ash, no matter what it is, I’m here. Let’s talk about it.”

Everything in me wanted to spew out every last piece of the intricate puzzle that was crippling my mind. I longed to be heard, understood, and comforted, but I was afraid. I was afraid that I’d share my heart, that I’d be vulnerable with my true inner thoughts, and they’d be received poorly. That my sweet husband, though kind and caring, would misunderstand, minimize, or mishandle what I’d share, and I’d be left more damaged and hurt than if I’d said nothing at all. So, I miraculously kept it all at bay for another minute while I forced myself to choke out, “That’s so sweet of you, but I’m honestly fine. It’s all silly, and I’m sure you won’t understand.”

I pushed him away when deep down I longed to share it all with him. I longed to have him care, so much so that I felt like my lungs might burst from holding it all in against my inner will. But the fear that he wouldn’t understand kept me from giving him a chance. A chance to love me in a moment I desperately needed him to.

He scooted over just a little bit closer, looked me right in the eyes, squeezed my hand and said, “I know I don’t always know how to handle these things, but I care about you Ash. I am here for you, and I’d love if you’d let me try to help you.”

That was it. He’d said what I needed to hear, and I couldn’t convince myself to keep it all locked up a minute longer. Like a dam breaking, I gave in and began to pour out my heart to him. The fears, insecurities, and frustrations flew out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop them. The tears fell slowly at first and then quickened. I pulled tissue after tissue out of the box while I shared all the inner turmoil I was bottling up.

Much like a small child, I began to cry so hard that I could barely breathe, and my body shook with the very real inner pain I was dealing with. I could barely look at my husband because I was so ashamed of myself. Ashamed that, when I have so much to be thankful for, I was still struggling to find joy. Ashamed that I felt the way I did about myself and these situations. Ashamed that I wasn’t stronger so I could get it under control. I was embarrassed to let him know how I really feel about myself sometimes.

As we lay there side by side, there were few times I could remember feeling so raw and vulnerable. I kept my face turned from my husband so I didn’t have to look into his eyes because the shame and embarrassment were so overwhelming. Toward the end of my rant, Steve stopped me.  “Honey, thank you for sharing with me. Now it’s time for you to listen. It’s time for me to tell you the truth and to encourage you.”

Ever so gently, he responded to it all. Everything I’d vomited out, he addressed. Not in an I’ve-got-all-the-answers-and-I’m-going-to-fix-you sort of way though. In a way that was gentle yet firm and that communicated he had truly heard me. He spoke truth over me and just poured out love on me. The kind of love that cuts through it all and somehow makes you believe it at your very core.

In those intimate moments together, I felt a weight lifted off of me. Much like I’d been trapped under a flipped car and someone had come and lifted it off of me. The tightness in my chest left, the clamor in my mind ceased, and I felt the tension leave my body. I finally turned to my husband and melted into his arms.

It’s funny how nothing can turn into something. Throughout the week I had accumulated the weight of the world without there ever being a major issue or incident, and it suffocated me with its lies about myself, my life, my purpose, my future, and my value. As I struggled and wrestled with it unable to get a grasp, God used my husband to love me much like He loves me. Like a life preserver thrown to a drowning soul, my husband’s tender love rescued me from the sea of despair.

Why am I telling you this? Why am I sharing this with you?

Because I learned a valuable lesson through this situation. You are God’s physical being to your spouse. You are how He reaches down from heaven and hugs them. You are how they know that they are special, loved, and heard.

My husband could have easily flipped on the TV and tuned me out that day. He could have never come into that bedroom to check on me. He could have taken the multiple outs I gave him to just leave me alone. He could have told me I was being ridiculous and flippantly disregarded the things I’d shared. He could have taken my most vulnerable moments and torn me to shreds carelessly, not realizing the weight of what I was sharing or how significant it was that I had opened up.

Instead he embodied the love of Christ. He pursued me, cared about me, and protected me. He loved, encouraged, and held me. He spoke life to the deadly thoughts and lies the enemy was telling me. He showed me a love that was supernatural, and like a lamp in the darkness, it dispelled all the discouragement, despair, and sadness I felt. In those moments I felt so treasured and loved, and it blew me away.

How many times do we have these precious opportunities in the life of our spouse? All too often we miss, ignore, or dismiss them. We don’t realize the vulnerability and the desperate need that exists within our spouse’s heart during those moments. They are life-changing moments that you can either breathe life and love into their soul or seal their fate.

Take time to notice when your spouse is hurting or struggling. Don’t shy away from entering into those moments with them because you think it’s too hard or exhausting. Even if you don’t know what to do or say, start with just loving them. Listening tenderly and without judgment or even the thought that you can or should fix it. Many times there is no solution; it’s just about having someone be there with you and love you in those moments where you don’t love yourself.

If your spouse was drowning out in the ocean, you wouldn’t just stand there and watch them would you? Of course not! Sometimes our spouse is drowning in an ocean of emotion, and you are the one standing there with a life preserver in your hand. You are the one able to save their life by lifting them up out of it. Will you recognize that opportunity, or will you just allow them to drown while you watch?

OpportunityGod has given you an amazing ability to treasure, love, care for, and protect your spouse in a way that no one else in this world can. You’ve been blessed with the chance to share an intimacy that you’ll never share with another human being. We often shy away from or avoid the tough stuff in marriage, but much like a prospector, these are the times to dig deep and hard because beneath it all lay a bed of gold. Realize how important and necessary you are to your spouse. How can you love them when they desperately need it? Cherish, protect, care for, and love them like the precious, priceless treasure that they are!

Copyright © 2014, Foundation Restoration.  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No reproduction allowed without written permission from Foundation Restoration and/or the author.