Speaking the Assumptions

Last weekend, as you may remember, Ryan was gone overnight at a retreat. And if you heard the podcast, you heard my mental plan to distract myself from excessive loneliness in his absence. {This is only the second time in our marriage we've been separated overnight. And if it were up to me, it would also be the last. Not a fan.}

Of course before he left, I hid all sorts of treasures in his luggage. Candy and notes and cards - and I threatened to pack the 16x20 canvas of our wedding photo for him to prop above his bunk. I felt that may have caused me to sail JUST over the line, so I ended up not doing that, but it wasn't an easy refrain!

Anyway, I spent Friday night immersed in a scrapbook project I was determined to finish before the weekend was over, and I alternately sobbed and rolled my eyes over crazy TV shows I knew Ryan would not care one bit to see.

And though I had promised him I would sleep all tucked in our bed, come nightfall, I could not bring myself to do it. I couldn't crawl in that big thing by myself and miss him all the more. So I slept half-leaning over in the fat chair and woke up with an appropriately stiff neck the next day. But before I "went to chair" - I happened to pass by the bed and saw our shared journal tucked among the pillows. It's the one we pass back and forth, far less regularly than we did while we were dating, but it's no less precious because it doesn't see as many words as it once did.

I cried before I even picked it up, because I knew he'd written a new entry and left it for me to find.

While the words of this sort of journal are not something I care to share outright in a public forum {because even we have limits!}, I wanted to share a few lines for the sake of this point.

Every word he wrote in that entry was something I already knew.

But the fact that he took time to commit it freshly to paper was a wild gift of love.

He assumed I knew it all already, and I did. But assuming it didn't keep him from speaking it.

I can't tell you enough how proud I am of you! You are doing so well at your new job at home. I appreciate so much all your hard work in our home and how you use your creativity in such a positive way. I am also so proud of your commitment to this lifestyle change. I know it's hard, but I love how you take your commitments seriously. 

{Yes, I sobbed through all of that when I read it.}

I know he's proud of me. I see it in his face. I know he appreciates the work I put into my writing and into our home and the small group we're hosting now. I know he's proud of me for my fierce attention to the clean eating/exercise routine. I know it.

But to hear it. {Or in my case, read it.}

It brought a surge of confidence for me. A fresh commitment to become even more than I am, to try harder, to work more efficiently.

Words have power. God created this entire universe using the power of His words.

And every time Ryan speaks words of life over me, even if they're things I already know, there is a fresh bit of life that settles over me.

What if we stopped assuming everyone around us knew how we felt and took time to actually tell them? What kind of crazy inspiration could we ignite in them if we dared to speak the words?