Sunday, August 25, 2013

A Spider, a Thief, and a Marriage

I'm still trying to figure out this whole blogging thing. It's been, what? Eight months since I left my comfortable seat along the blogosphere wall and joined the dance? And since becoming a contributor for Mormon Mommy Blogs earlier this summer, I'm now trying to figure out which posts to publish on MMB and which are better suited for Five in the Foothills. I think I'm working it out okay, but occasionally I feel like my dance card is double-booked. 

Below is a reposting of one of my first MMB articles (go here for the original post), including the same freaky photo that still makes my skin crawl...

a spider in the bathroom
Photo credit: Amy Selleck

It was definitely a battle-cry, but what kind of war could he possibly be waging up there?

I heard the the toilet flush and then saw him at the top of the stairs; my husband was flexing his biceps and trying not to smile. His eyes glimmered with accomplishment.

I smiled back in complete understanding. "You just killed a spider, didn't you?"

If by divine design...fathers are responsible to provide... protection for their families, well...when it came to spiders Wes was still working on it.

It was only a few months later, though, when he would stand to protect his family from much more than an eight-legged pest.

Every moment of that night is still vivid in my mind. It was sometime around 2 AM when I woke up with the feeling that something was wrong. I got out of bed to check on Beau, who at the time was our only child. His body was sprawled out on top of his bed and yes, his chest was rising and falling in rhythm with his breathing. I went back to bed.
But I still couldn't sleep. Not knowing what else to do with the growing pit in the bottom of my stomach, I crossed the hall again, scooped up Beau, and carried him back to our bed.

Wes normally sleeps like a rock, but by this time he was fully alert to my anxiety. Finally, I had the distinct impression that someone was lurking around downstairs. No noise. Just an undeniably clear impression. With decision in my hushed voice, I turned to Wes:

"Someone is in our house!"

He stood to act on my prompting immediately, calling out from the top of the stairs and demanding that the possible intruder leave. It was then that we heard an object drop and the intruder make his exit.

Over the years, this experience has become more than just a scary story to retell around the campfire. As we continue to reflect on the events of that night, we are first and most importantly grateful for the Lord's hand in protecting our family. We are also reminded that there is no competition between whose role is more important in our marriage. It was Wes who stood to protect our family that night, but not without my intuition.

On those days when my husband drags through the door after working a 12-hour shift only to be greeted by a disheveled wife with peanut butter in her hair, a half-naked screaming toddler in her arms, and ANOTHER six loads of laundry at her feet, any argument over whose role is more important is just not helpful.

Marriage is not a competition. 

Both my husband and I continue to make unique and equally vital contributions to the success of our family.

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