The Ugly Truth

My husband did the nicest thing for me last night and it has nothing to do with flowers or cleaning or kisses or chocolate (although I'm a big fan of all four of those). After repeatedly asking me what was wrong and what was bothering me and why I was so acting the way I was... I finally told him and let me assure you, it was not a pretty sight.

I got pretty angry.
I really let him have it.
And it had nothing to do with him.

Or maybe it did.

The emotions of a woman. Poor, poor man. We stood outside in the drizzling cool of the night and he listened while I recapped every person and every moment in my life that has ever let me down. I stopped beating around the bush and trying to protect his feelings and trying to hide mine. I admitted things to him that I have never confessed out loud (and remember, we're talking feelings here; not criminal acts). I tried to put into words the utter despair that I feel at times is so anchored within me... so lodged in tight, so stuck... that sometimes I feel dead on the inside.

(How's this for truth?)

He said two things to me. First, he talked about my grandma and how better things felt when she was around. Well, that's a no-brainer. That little woman was a mighty prayer warrior. Sitting with her could be like sitting with Jesus, snapping green beans and all.

Secondly, he said one simple word to me: resentment. When he said that, I felt the breath go out of me. I stumbled over a few words and tried to make excuses and said something like, Oh no, that's not me, but I went to bed with that word on my mind and woke up with it still there.

resent: verb. To take ill; to consider as an injury or affront.

Sometimes facing the truth about ourselves is a very tough pill to swallow. The truth does indeed hurt. He wasn't trying to hurt me, though. He listened and he waited and then he simply pointed out what he was hearing. He didn't accuse me of whining. He didn't blow me off. He wants me to happy.

And the word happy is nowhere in that definition.

I could keep going, but sometimes I sense the Lord controlling the backspace button. Not everything needs to be expressed. For some reason, this did. Maybe it was so I can see the truth before me. Maybe it's so you can know you're not alone. Maybe somebody needed to witness the many flaws in my character.

Only He knows.

Thank you, Lord, for my husband.

And for truth, no matter how ugly it can be.

I'm not where I should be, but I'm not where I was either.

We'll call that progress and move on with the rest of the day.