We Danced

I really couldn’t stand my husband when I first met him. The first thing that he ever said to me was “I really like your hair”. Seriously, who says that? I ignored him and avoided him. He continually teased me and told everyone that we worked with that he was going to marry me. I hated when he said that, what a jerk. Uhh the nerve! He was relentless. He made the schedule for the management team where we work so he would schedule us to close the restaurant together almost every night. What a jerk! Every night after all of our employees had left the building, we would sit in the office and talk about anything and everything. I remember one night he was telling me how he just wanted a family, that was it. His daughter lived in another city and he talked about her nonstop. He told me every story he had about her, several times.. All he wanted was to be closer to her. I remember thinking how lucky some girl was going to be when she married him. Umm hello, I’m a fool! During one of our many shifts together I made a comment about how much I loved a certain ring from James Avery. Thirty minutes later he was standing in front of me with the ring. He had sneaked out of the restaurant and gone to the jewelry store to get it for me. We were not dating at the time. That night after closing the restaurant we turned the music up as loud as we could and danced together all around the restaurant until the sun came up. And then we were dating. We have been to hell and back (literally) and have endured more than most couples will ever have to. I wouldn’t trade a moment of it for anything. I truly mean that. Every moment, every low and every high has brought us to the beautiful marriage that we have today. When I first met him I chose to reject him for no apparent reason. It was mostly to let him know that I was the boss and would not be weak to him. Silly girl. I wish that I had been submissive to him for day one. I wish that back then I knew how important it is to make your husband or boyfriend feel like the man of the house. I was so used to being in control and having to get everything done myself that I was too afraid to release it to someone else. He wanted to care for me and my daughter. He wanted to protect us, love us, shield us and be the leader for us. I was too stubborn. Its not just him either, I didn’t know how to be submissive to my friends and family either. Yes, we are supposed to be submissive to them too, please please don’t tell my sister that I said that. To me the word submissive meant weak, low, bottom feeder, so I googled it. The definition is slightly different from what I thought. Submissive is the bottom or submissive takes the passive, receiving, or obedient role. I’m okay with that. I’ve really never been labeled as passive but I wouldn’t mind it. Obedient and receiving is something that I have been working on for a few years now. Who wouldn’t want to be receiving? When we are talking about our spouse, friends and family I think that being obedient is something wonderful. When it comes to our Lord I think that the words submissive, receiving and obedient are crucial. Obey His word, submit to His word, receive His word. I am all in! Can you imagine the beauty that will come from living Gods word. I can. It’s easier said than done but its worth the effort. Its worth the sacrifice. It’s worth swallowing your pride and being “the bottom”, “passive”, and “obedient”. I mean when you really stop to think about it why wouldn’t we surrender and let someone lead us. I don t want that stress and worry in the first place. I’m tired of trying to be in charge. I’m tired of trying to run the show. My husband can have the job, I resign. Lets pray “Father, show me how to rest. Show me how to be obedient, submissive and receiving. I don’t want to live my life my way, I want to only follow You. I’m tired. Pick me up and carry me. In Jesus name, amen.” The frist time that my husband ever came to my house he brought my daughter paint and paint brushes and asked if they could go out on the patio and paint together. There was a little part of me that was jealous, yes jealous. The other part of my filled with a love for him that became stronger than any love I could ever imagine. While they were painting my daughter asked him what his favorite color was. He replied in his thick southern accent “paank” (pink) and then sent my little girl into a fit of laughter. 7 years later she still teases him about that word. I love them.

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