Revelation

Tonight B and I went to a furniture store to peruse their private clear-out sale in the hopes of finding (according to me) a sofa, bed, dining room set and (according to him) an armchair.

B is not exactly the most easily pleased person one would ever meet. He is discerning and particular and when pressed on how much he likes something he will usually reply, "Eh. It's okay I guess." This lukewarm response strongly counters my own excitement which tends to arise many times in one shopping trip. To me, hearing "Eh, it's okay," when I think I've found the most wonderful sofa in the world can be a bit disheartening. Tonight was no exception. And I brooded for a while after our little trip.

As we were going down the street on the way home, B kept pressing me, wanting to know what was wrong. I told him nothing, and pouted all along the way, no furniture orders in hand, and closed-minded husband by my side. Quickly we slid down the road. Finally, all I could muster was that I regretted going to the store because it only highlighted that we still didn't have a home, even though we had decided not to buy anything until we know how the economy will fare. Internally, I was also brooding abouto how closed-off he can be to some things, like furniture.

Later, as we were sitting on the sofa and watching the Office, I looked over at B, his blue eyes crinkling in laughter at the TV, his overall happy demeanor, quietly stroking my hand. And then it hit me. It isn't that B isn't open about very much. It's more that the things he really cares about, and is passionate about have nothing to do with sofas, chairs, TVs or houses.

These are my priorities because somehow I think (or have thought) that they mean adding more to a home; and by using the word home, I do not mean a house. That is simply a shelter, which I am thankful to have. Perhaps this is more my endeavor to fix the past, to bring back the house I lost when I was young, and to find the comforts that I had before my parents divorced and my world was turned upside down. But is this something that B really cares about? No. Not at all.

What B cares about is spending time with his friends and me. He may want many things, but ultimately, he doesn't care enough about them to go out and buy them for himself. Everything he wants, he has, whether or not he admits it. He gets excited about watching TV together on Monday night, snuggled under our fleecy blanket with our cat stretched out nearby. He looks forward to going on a long walk through our neighborhood, feeling the gentle breeze pick up the ocean scented air and carry through us, as we debate and discuss our dreams and the future. He looks forward to waking up on Saturday and having his once-a-week coffee, specially brewed for him, which we drink together as we eat breakfast. When we run out of coffee, he makes sure that I get more, just in time for Saturday.

He wanted to go on a walk with me today, but was stuck at work. When he got home, he was disappointed he missed it, and he even mentioned it later on. When he thought I may not be home tonight, he was disappointed; not because he didn't want me to be with my friend, but more because he was looking forward to making dinner together.

As we sat on the sofa, and I had this realization, B asked me, in a concerned voice, what was wrong, and I gave him my insight into who he is. As I said all of this he nodded and agreed. I asked if I was right and he said that I was; and then held my hand.

I know I'm with B for a reason. I know I'm not completely healed from the wounds of the past. But perhaps, if I remain open, and further open myself up to other people, I can learn a path to true healing and change. No sofa or house can bring back my childhood, but through B, I am always learning what is really important. And that is why I married him.