“Oh, we are definitely going to keep having date nights after we’re married—at least once a month.” We said it so confidently and innocently—even ignorantly. When I think about this, I wonder why we didn’t notice how our parents and older siblings kept—or rather, didn’t keep—date nights. Maybe we did, but we wanted something different. Something more exciting, more romantic.
We tried, oh, yes. It was easy. Until the babies came, two in as many years. And with the darlings came more chaos, fatigue, and disrupted schedules. At the same time, my husband’s work schedule changed, and days seemed to shorten yet bulge at the edges.
Did you say “date night”? I’m smiling as I type. Those days weren’t always easy, but, oh, how we loved each other, and that mattered most. Staying close included quiet moments tucked into irregular wedges of the day or night:
-Whispered connections book-ended by “Don’t wake the baby.”
-Rocking on the porch on a summer night, watching the sunset fade and the stars appear.
-Prayers and lingering hugs before he left for work.
-A note in his planner.
-Holding hands in the grocery store.
-A wink across a room full of people.
-A bouquet lovingly picked along the road on his way home from work.
-“Don’t cook supper; I’m bringing it home.”
-“I’ll get the baby.”
-“I’ll pack my lunch.”
-“I’ll bring you coffee.”
There’s little more romantic than that.
This joy comes from hearts forged tightly in God’s love, through studying and living His Word, and putting each other’s needs and desires above one’s own, by being filled with overwhelming unconditional love, assured in each other’s support and care. It’s the daily checking in, “How are you doing? What can I do to make your day go better?” and being honest with answers. Listening to the tone of voice, noticing the slumping shoulders, the sighs, the nervous twitch that signals unrest.
Mature love realizes commitment and connection must go deeper than a set time, with sparkling cider, roses, and china. Committed love wipes the messy counters, rinses diapers, irons his shirts if he prefers that, juggles the duties—remembering to spend real time with each other, looking in his eyes, sharing the love that transforms a soup and veggie meal to elegance, because love glorifies.
After our second child arrived, God gave us two years when my husband worked mostly at home. Those are still some of my sweetest memories. It was easier to stay in direct contact; he ate lunch with us and put the littles down for their naps, blessing me with time for a reset.
This taught us how important it is to stay up-to-date and not let little irritations pile up. Of course, life got busy, and sometimes we forgot, but all things worthwhile take effort, work, repentance, and another try.
Now, excuse me while I go for a walk with my husband after we share cookies and coffee.
Faith Sommers is wife to Paul, mother to six children, half of whom are married, and Nana to the sweetest grandchildren. She loves people and likes words, coffee, mornings, and Zebra pens.
Leave a comment