My Husband
[This started as a response to Philippa's comment, but grew.]
My husband likes to tell people (or maybe I like to tell people) that he married me for comic relief. Really, though, he takes our marriage seriously. That means that he is working to make me a better person. (He says I help him, but I don't quite see that as much.) He would wait on me hand and foot if I would be good. (Oh, but I'm lazy, so he mustn't, except on occasion.)
I read a book called "The Blue Window" in which the main character told a friend that if she (the friend) wanted a husband, to pray for a good one. The friend was shocked, never having thought of this before. When I decided to try to be good, and to keep trying, I asked God for a helpmate. Now I have even better than I imagined. He gave me my first experience of Orthodoxy, and pushes and pulls me toward Christ every day. I try not to kick and scream too much.
Throughout high school and college, I struggled with depression. At college (in the north, with *winter* and *February, month of doom*) I learned I had Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), which basically meant that no sun = no happy. I went down to recuperate in Texas for a year, then went back to finish. When I went back, I was better able to face that I didn't like who I was and who I was becoming *and* that *I* had to choose, daily, what to do about it. God took me up on my request for His help. I have spent two happy winters up north so far. Peterbird attributes this conquering of SADness to the all-conquering Light of Christ.
When I think about it, I am happy and at peace. I need more work on realizing that, instead of picking on my husband, and exerting my laziness, both of which make me unhappy. I love having our icons hung on the walls. If ever I should be sad, the eyes of my friends will, if not lead me home, at least assure me that they are praying on my behalf, urging me to be good and happy. My mother had the idea that we have a duty to be happy, with the realization that you cannot both sin and be happy.
Spiritual growth frustrates me. I want charts and markers and definite points beyond which I do not have to return. Fr. Seraphim says that it is more like parting your hair a new way: by combing it over and over, it will be easier, even though some days you will have frustrating setbacks.
Now to bed with me and my sore throat, to pray for my husband who is at the vigil for St. Panagis. *sigh* I will most likely do more pleasure-reading than praying, but I will fight a little good fight at least.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
My husband likes to tell people (or maybe I like to tell people) that he married me for comic relief. Really, though, he takes our marriage seriously. That means that he is working to make me a better person. (He says I help him, but I don't quite see that as much.) He would wait on me hand and foot if I would be good. (Oh, but I'm lazy, so he mustn't, except on occasion.)
I read a book called "The Blue Window" in which the main character told a friend that if she (the friend) wanted a husband, to pray for a good one. The friend was shocked, never having thought of this before. When I decided to try to be good, and to keep trying, I asked God for a helpmate. Now I have even better than I imagined. He gave me my first experience of Orthodoxy, and pushes and pulls me toward Christ every day. I try not to kick and scream too much.
Throughout high school and college, I struggled with depression. At college (in the north, with *winter* and *February, month of doom*) I learned I had Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), which basically meant that no sun = no happy. I went down to recuperate in Texas for a year, then went back to finish. When I went back, I was better able to face that I didn't like who I was and who I was becoming *and* that *I* had to choose, daily, what to do about it. God took me up on my request for His help. I have spent two happy winters up north so far. Peterbird attributes this conquering of SADness to the all-conquering Light of Christ.
When I think about it, I am happy and at peace. I need more work on realizing that, instead of picking on my husband, and exerting my laziness, both of which make me unhappy. I love having our icons hung on the walls. If ever I should be sad, the eyes of my friends will, if not lead me home, at least assure me that they are praying on my behalf, urging me to be good and happy. My mother had the idea that we have a duty to be happy, with the realization that you cannot both sin and be happy.
Spiritual growth frustrates me. I want charts and markers and definite points beyond which I do not have to return. Fr. Seraphim says that it is more like parting your hair a new way: by combing it over and over, it will be easier, even though some days you will have frustrating setbacks.
Now to bed with me and my sore throat, to pray for my husband who is at the vigil for St. Panagis. *sigh* I will most likely do more pleasure-reading than praying, but I will fight a little good fight at least.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
posted by magda at 7:59 PM
1 Comments:
Nice post. Growing pains are no more fun when they're spiritual than physical, but it does really help to have someone else. Which father was it that said that a man who lives alone will learn many valuable things, but a man who lives with others will learn humility and patience much more quickly. So true.
On a completely lighter note, your blog seems to have decided you're pregnant, since it's recommending morning sickness cures etc. I got dizzy on Sunday at Concord and convinced yet another parish that I'm expecting. Ai yai yai. Next Sunday the SeaBands are going with me.
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