Behind Closed Doors

i know it's like, totally spring-fever time, but for whatever reason we are going to talk about fall and scary movies today. so just go with it. 

each time halloween rolls around, it puts husband and I in a super festive, fall mood. i get very lovey and nostalgic about yellow school buses, falling leaves and carving orange pumpkins (note the absence of pumpkin spice latte excitement- i do not like those drinks). i love the memories i have around back to school, Halloween parties, the weather turning crisp and cool. husband, on the other hand, (oblivious to all this nostalgic fall crap), gets super stoked about Halloween, scary things and... scary movies. specifically because this is the ONE time a year i, (the super scaredy weenie cat that I am), will maybe watch a scary movie with him.

and let's be honest here: my level of fear about scary movies and, basically nothing, is ridiculous. REE. DICK. U. LOUS. But SO REAL! every single time (even in the free zone of october) husband asked to watch a scary movie, I threaten him with endless loads of laundry. like this:

me: "what do you want to watch tonight honey? i'm in the mood for something light and funny or complicated and artistic!" [i never say that actually but let's pretend i do].

husband: "how about a scary movie?" 

me: (entering into irrational freak out/high pitched voice mode just considering what he is suggesting): "what is wrong with you? no scary movies! i hate scary movies! you know this! no way! you're ridiculous."  (pause) "fine. fine. fine! i'll watch a scary movie with you. but you'll have to laundry for at least the rest of the month because the laundry room is in the basement and i'm never going down there again after a scary movie. you'll actually have to do everything in the basement for the rest of our lives. so what movie do you want to watch?"

anyway. that whole tangent to tell you that i, by nature, am a super scaredy cat and i hate scary things- and scary things to me are the unknown. anything i don't know, like monsters in the dark or sharks in the murky water or a pregnancy actually being twins... those are all unknown, uncharted territories that scare the bejesus out of me 

so imagine my utter excitement and pleasure when my husband discovered he's developed this basically medically-unknown, long-lasting, chronic-pain diagnosis with his skin. a diagnosis ("topical steroid addiction/withdrawal, or red skin syndrome for those who care) that the medical community basically poo-poos and treats with the medication that perpetuates it. a condition so debilitating that most days, given his choice, husband will sit in our bed, wrapped tightly in a few sheets and slathered in burn gel and every known numbing medication/lotion/potion/cream known to man, hyped on vicodin and whiskey to dull the pain, for hours, just to make the day bearable. 

yeah, you guessed it. i'm stoked for this! YAY! unknown! 

the reality is, we are both scared to death. scared of how he will physically endure this trial of constant pain and misery (prognosis is 6-24 months!). scared of how it will affect our children, and our day to day lives. scared of how to keep a household of four people going with one pivotal person missing. scared of how he shows up to work each day when e'd rather curl up in a ball and cry. and mostly, scared- so, so, scared- of what happens to our intimate, loving marriage when the bulk of our life's business falls on one person and the other is basically trying to survive. 

when it's bad (at least once a day), husband is in bed, behind our closed bedroom door. i'm in the living room, kitchen, baby room or bathroom (aside: potty training sucks!), fending off the kids need for daddy time. each time the kids ask for him or i go to the bathroom or baby room, i see our closed door and am flooded with the feelings of sympathy, loneliness, sorrow, fear, and overwhelm.

and if we are honest, (and i always strive to be), intimacy and vulnerability is not borne out of loneliness, sorrow, and fear. it's not fostered and nurtured in resentment, rejection, distant communication and constant balancing of fairness. and that is precisely what grows between us in seasons like this.

and while i am no brene brown, i do know that every successful marriage is built on some form of vulnerability, intimacy, and communication. 

which then, of course, leads me to wonder: HOW ARE WE GOING TO DO THIS?! we need to survive this! we need, nay WANT!, to stay married! and happy, and in love, and joyous.... what are we to do?! 

enter jesus (thank GOD. like, literally). 

i read this verse the other day, that while simple, spoke like a lightning bolt to my soul: 

"i am counting on the Lord, yes I am counting on him. I have put my hope in his word. I long for the Lord more than sentries long for the dawn, yes more than sentries long for the dawn. O Israel, hope in the Lord; for with the Lord there is unfailing love. His redemption overflows." (psalm 130:5-8)

so how do i/we get through this season? hope. how do we hold on to what we don't see? hope. how do we overcome resentment, feelings of unfairness, and loneliness? hope. 

we... i... we hope. i count on the Lord that my husband will be healed. i count on the Lord that He loves us so much- unfailingly so!- that we will be redeemed of this illness but also this yucky, unfortunate time in our marriage. 

i hold hope in the Lord to heal us, and i also hold hope in the Lord to give us what we desperately need: unfailing love and overflowing redemption. it's not perfect- hope is not my love language by anyone's stretch of imagination!- but it's something i can work on. it's a project i can work on. i can't heal my husband. i can't change our circumstances. but i can hope. and revile in God's unfailing love and overflowing redemption. 

and i hope that for you, when you look at your own closed door, you can pour your hope into the Lord and find the unfailing flow of love and redemption He has for you. 

but don't think this means i'm ready to watch a scary movie....