Parenthetical Post

In which I take a brief detour from Proverbs

I was watching The Bridges of Madison County this weekend (yeah, I know...).  For those who don't know the story, bored housewife Meryl Streep has a brief affair with traveling photographer Clint Eastwood while her husband and kids are out of town.

While I don't like that this movie condones extra-marital affairs, I could understand its appeal.  Streep's character feels unappreciated and stuck in a rut.  Along comes Eastwood, full of words of admiration.  She says she's stuck in the middle of nowhere, he says, "This isn't nowhere - it's your home."  He asks her about her life and her dreams.  He listens to her and doesn't belittle her.  What woman wouldn't swoon at that?

I thought about telling my husband this, about how wonderful Clint Eastwood was and that if husbands would treat their wives the way he treats Meryl Streep, wives wouldn't be searching for something more.

And then I realized that there are two sides to this.  If wives would take the time to listen to their husbands, men wouldn't be searching for something more. 

My marriage is wonderful, but there are times I feel like we're stuck in a rut.  When "date night" ends up being McDonalds and going to sleep early.  When we're home without the kids and don't spend any of that time talking like we used to - not because we don't need to say anything, but because we don't know what to say. 

I'm not responsible for my husband's role in this, but I am responsible for mine.  I can listen.  I can ask him about his dreams and encourage him to keep dreaming, and to reach for those goals.  I can tell him, again and again, how much I admire, appreciate, and respect him.  I can make a bit more effort to make our home, and our bedroom, inviting.  I can think of new things to do and new places to go, even if it's just a walk down a path we haven't explored before.  We can learn new things together - take a class or get a how-to book from the library.  We can cook together or change the tire together or any number of things...together.

When we fell in love, we wanted to do everything together.  I cheered him on, wrote love notes, believed that everything he did was wonderful and exciting.  I can still do that today.  There's no reason a twenty-year-old marriage can't be full of passion.