Ladies, Wash His Feet

In the last few weeks, many different people, sights and readings have inspired me; my mind is bursting! God has given me several special moments here in New Hamburg. I see His thumbprint on each and every one. I find my new town so delightfully peaceful. Kevin and I love going down by the river to sit, eat, talk or stroll along the bank. We have had our “morning church services” there a few times now. I bring a devotional to read and Kevin brings his passion for God’s grace. I will sit composed reading out loud with emphasis and Kevin will throw his head back and say, “Thank you, Jesus!”

We have had great times by the Nith River; eventually, I will write them all down. There is one in particular that touches on the topic of marital harmony. Now don’t think I am about to spill juicy gossip! It’s uncomfortable owning up to times of contention with your spouse, but as Jesus said, “Cast the first stone.” In one sentence, He silenced the people who like to accuse and judge and encouraged those who struggle in silence. You are not alone. You are not the first person to find yourself here and unfortunately you will not be the last. I do not care how many books, videos, premarital counseling sessions you submit yourself to, you will not understand how real life differentiates from the fictional tales of wedded bliss. It is not that marriage is a drag or unpleasant, far from it! But the still pictures we have admired in our minds during singlehood are very superficial.

Our anniversary was special. Kevin wished me a happy anniversary several times throughout the day. Our smiles shone brighter and we held onto each other tighter. We did not celebrate in what has become the traditional way. We didn’t spend money on each other, no gifts and no accessories. We didn’t go out for dinner; in fact, we took leftovers to Kevin’s parent’s house. Lol. Why? Because when you are newlyweds who are trying to be cautious with money and who don’t believe in needlessly going into debt, you don’t have the option of being elaborate. I didn’t lament it much. I wouldn’t have minded eating out, but it was cozy cooking dinner for my husband. Basically, it was a special-ordinary day that ended with us at the river at night with me in tears.

I am happy (and perhaps a bit proud) that although I remember the events of some of our fights, I never remember what started them. I say that as someone with an impeccable memory, so I take it as a good sign that we are successfully fumbling our way through effective communication and conflict resolution. Tense situations are prime for revealing your confrontation style; ours are completely opposite. I grew up with yelling (sorry Mom and Dad). We yelled and brought it all out in the open in our family and my dad’s family. I can’t comment on Kevin’s family because I don’t know, but I can say that he has a more distant approach and would rather avoid it at all cost. Me…confrontation doesn’t bother me as much. As I said, that is how we communicated with each other especially in the years leading up to my parent’s separation. Kevin and I are two different people who have become one and we need to find our harmony in all areas of our marital life (not just the easy ones!). How do we do it? Through trial and error. With me crying by the river with Kevin’s hand on my shoulder as we brainstorm tips to help us understand each other’s coping strategies. Since we got married, we have been the beneficiaries of God’s continual blessing. We have also been under continual stress. In that type of pressure cooker, it is very easy to set each other off if we don’t understand how the other person handles their stress. Here are three things that work for us:

1.    Don’t get caught in the Blame Game; it’s quick sand. Drag yourself out of there and talk.

2.   Ask questions.

a.    Do you understand what I mean when…?

b.    Were you quiet because of this…or that…?

c.    Help me understand why that made you angry?

d.    How can I let you know next time that I just need my space?

e.    What should I do to comfort you when you are emotional?

3.   If you can catch your breath and haul-butt out of the boxing ring long enough, stop and let the Spirit lead you. Pray that Jesus will guide you beyond the fight.

I have an example for number three. Back in May, I was at the beginning of the last pregnancy and I had missed my anti-Ds for a few days. My hormones were off the charts. I am not going into the irrelevant details except to say that I ended up staying in the car when we got home from an outing and let Kevin go inside by himself. My ego was hot to trot. I was not going inside until he either came and got me or called me on my cell. Interestingly, we ended up texting for fifteen minutes. It sounds ridiculous but it was productive in that it made us think before we spoke. Yet in those fifteen minutes, he didn’t ask me when or if I was coming up. He was calling my bluff. If you want an image of how stubborn I am, picture me sitting in a car with the windows rolled up during a heat wave, arms crossed, refusing to budge!

As I was digging my heels in, I felt the Spirit nudging me. Go inside. Pffft. As far as I was concerned this was a stand off. Sarah, you need to go inside where your husband is. I knew this was the Lord, so I gave in and went inside. I was trying to rehearse something nice to say. We exchanged some tense words and I could feel the urge to pick up where we left off. I went into the bathroom, took a few deep breaths, patted cold water on my eyes and went back out there. Go sit beside him. It would have been one thing if Kevin had been sitting on the sofa, but he was in the recliner, which meant I would have to sit on the floor. I didn’t move. Go sit beside him. I relented and sat on the floor. Kevin asked me to join him in the chair instead. I don’t remember what we said as we sat there, probably nothing at all. Then it happened. Wash his feet. No way! Must be something from a sermon I heard recently. That’s not actually what God’s asking me to do. Sarah, go fill up the basin with soap and water, then wash your husband’s feet. As an aside, readers, you have no idea how bad his feet smell! My Mom bought Norwex shoe deodorizer for me to use, it’s that bad! I did it, though. And as I filled the basin with cold water, I felt a peace come over me. I was convicted that this was the right thing to do. I remained silent. I spread out the towel for underneath the basin. He protested and held his leg back when he realized what I was going to do. Without looking him in the face, I shook my head and pulled his foot harder and lowered it into the water. New tears fell from my eyes as I dried one foot off and reached for the other.

Feminists keep your bras on! I did this on my own; I didn’t have to. Nor did I feel debased in the process. We were at a stale mate and emotionally exhausted. It was time to take the boxing gloves off and show Kevin that he is not my sparring partner, but my husband. God showed me how with a gift of love. The Holy Spirit had humbled me from a woman fuming in a car waiting for a fight to a wife washing her husband’s feet.

Once both feet were dry, lip quivering, I lowered my face to kiss his feet. “No,” Kevin grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up. “The only feet you kiss are Jesus’. I’m not worthy of that! Now you sit and I will wash your feet.” It was my turn to protest, but he insisted. So my knight in shining, Krown-rust-proofed armor got down on his knees for a second time and washed my feet. I felt another nudging, this is how you should resolve your disputes. When he was done, we held each other. I was sobbing. I apologized and told him I loved him over and over. When I leaned back to look in Kevin’s face, I saw that he was also crying. The conversation that followed was very precious and I am keeping it between us.

As time goes by, I witness proof that we understand each other better. Marriage is less about the “date nights” and trinkets, and more about bonding closer together against the storms in life. Blessings and favour await us because God is generous! I wrote this out as a reminder to myself. I think it may be time for us to wash each other’s feet again.

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