Author’s note: One of my perennially best-traveled posts remains Christian, Married, and Attracted Elsewhere. It’s not unusual to be attracted to or feel connection with someone else.
But as followers of Jesus–how do we handle it? Is it kosher to be married and have a best friend of the opposite sex who’s not your spouse?
I paused on the stairs today, peering at this photo of my sons eating hot dogs in Halloween costumes at a Trunk or Treat.
The one on the left, in the fireman costume, is now a Marine in infantry training, rucking five kilometers this week with about forty pounds on his back.
On Tuesday, my brain–well, my heart–undermined my marriage.
Here’s what happened on the outside.
When I first arrived back after living in Africa, it surprised me. I discovered it over lattes, or in the church foyer, or checking out at the grocery store.
I realized a lot of people were hungry, starved even, to be listened to. To have someone look them in the eye, even for a few seconds, and be with them. Undistracted. Agenda-free. Curious. Empathetic.
My father is the broad-shouldered, strong, internal teddy bear type, with fingers like sausages. In my childhood, he was a Midwestern farmer. In his spare time, he donates his mad skills to car repairs of missionaries, single moms, people like that. He’s that kind of guy.
And it’s common for him to come back into the house with blood zigzagging down his leg or seeping through his shirt.
I know I wasn’t the only mom whose gut sunk like a stone when I heard of the death (“passing” seems a misnomer) of George Floyd. Just weeks after our family discussion about Ahmaud Arbery, we sat down in lieu of online church to talk again about racial discrimination.
Truth: Sometimes I wish I didn’t tell you I’d help with “uncomfortable conversations…worth having.”
But here’s another truth: Those of you readers of color probably didn’t have an option for this uncomfortable conversation with your kids.
Ever feel like “real” friendships aren’t worth the risk?
Back when I was sporting a baby bump (still in the “Is she chubby or pregnant?” phase)—I found out that my third-born was a girl.
There in my then-testosterone-dominated household, pint-sized males regularly calculated the highest step they could jump from without a trip to the ER. They sprinkled around the sides of the toilet. Children’s books instructed me in terminology for construction equipment I never knew existed.
I kind of hate conflict. With the exception of my anger issues with my kiddos, conflict tends to sideline me in a head-between-my-knees, breathe-into-a-paper-bag kind of way. It’s super-attractive and mature.
Which is why, when it’s over, part of me would opt to skip away with a “tra-la-la” brand of obliviousness. Maybe I would spring to the beach, where I could bury parts of my body in the warm sand. Preferably my head.
Author’s note: If you missed these previous posts, you might grab them first for other overarching ideas on choosing vulnerability even when it’s hard–and being a safe place for others when they don’t have their act together.
My husband and I were headed out on a date night (can you hear the angel choirs singing? I needed it. As in, bad). It was admittedly last minute, to the point that my curly-turned-cotton-candy hair had been lassoed by a headband and fun-bun. But my kids would have food and it looked positive no one would burn anything down, so the big stuff was covered. Thus I sat in the passenger seat with my makeup bag, aka magic wand. I was just about through patting on concealer when my husband looked over at me.
Well. I’d been waiting for a good illustration for this post. I didn’t really want it to come when I was sleeping (probably snoring?) last week at precisely 12:35 AM. That is when my husband, arriving home late, confirmed I was good to go on that meeting tomorrow at 8 AM, the one an hour away.
Yes. (I was mumbling. If I wake up too much, I know I won’t get back to sleep.) I have to drop off all the kids, and then..
Wait. Did you say 8? Wasn’t it 8:30?
![Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language](https://www.janelbreitenstein.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/love-languages-text-1.jpg "Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language")
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