My husband resigned from his job, after almost two years of attempting to secure a transfer, after over twenty months of the two of us living together only part-time as husband and wife.
Truth be told, we felt like friends with benefits at times. Like one of those Christian couples who believe it’s okay to have sex before you’re married. (We’re NOT one of those couples, sorry.)
Don’t get me wrong, we are so totally married. We were totally married the moment we took our vows on May 9, 2015. And then we went on our honeymoon and consummated our marriage. And then we got home, and then he went back to his hometown the next day. And we spent over twenty months going back and forth, seeing each other on weekends and once or twice during the week, him staying in his childhood bedroom in his parents’ house, meeting at hotels, even getting an apartment for a few months there.
It was yucky. And frustrating. And lonely. And stretching. And then we sort of got used to it. And then I realized something: that I was getting used to something I probably shouldn’t be getting used to.
So, thankfully, around that time, my husband (on his own, thank you, baby Jesus) came to a decision. I’m done, he said. I’m resigning, he promised. And then he up and resigned. And I rejoiced and started making lists and praying prayers.
Our mantra in this new scary odd season: marriage over money.
My husband resigned before having a new job lined up. Not something we necessarily suggest you emulate. But something we felt we had to do, for us, for our marriage.
Richard said to me recently, I can tell you’re stressed, but I need you to be strong.
I’m already learning a lot actually in this new marriage place.
Things like, that it’s best if we don’t both freak out in the same day, or at least in the same breath.
And that I still really like being with him, all day every day. And that I’d rather be with him than not be with him.
And that God’s got us. And it’s important that we tell each other that, like, a lot. That we remember and remind each other of God’s faithfulness to us.
And that it’s okay if my freakishly rigid routine gets bumped around a bit.
And that because we have more time together, I’m able to start hearing the things that aren’t being said. I’m starting to really get to know this man who God gave me.
And that we are still so fresh, so new. That it’s as if our marriage really just started. That we’re – in a very real sense – fragile.
And that I truly am learning that one of the best gifts I can give Richard is to let him be himself, in whatever forms that takes.
And that tenderness and lots and lots of grace will help us through this new place.
I don’t know how this is going to play out…I don’t know what job my husband will get and when. (To be clear: my man is not one to sit around: he has had several interviews, he is reffing up a storm, he is doing his wood-working and architectual salvaging, he canvased our neighborood with fliers offering his services as a handyman, he is even trying Uber!, and he has begun a new-but-probably-temporary position this week as we figure out our next steps). So, I’m hopeful. I’m choosing hope. And I’m grateful. Because God has led us, God is leading us, and God will lead us. Amen.
For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. -Jeremiah 29:11
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