I could hear his footsteps.
Unmistakable. Firm, solid feet. Man-steps. Quite different than the quick pattering of all the other little feet I’d heard throughout the day.
Madly chopping and slicing, I never even looked up when he entered. I felt frantic and stressed, knowing everyone was very hungry and I very far behind in my dinner preparations. My intentions had been good, it’s only that I hadn’t anticipated that broken glass earlier in the afternoon. Nor the quarrel between the two children that soon followed. All of this took time. Then that last urgent phone call put me hopelessly behind schedule.
And that’s how he found me.
Madly chopping and slicing.
He came in behind me, slipping his strong arms around my waist and leaned into me. I should have felt electricity, but mostly I felt annoyance. Irritation. He was slowing me down.
I could immediately sense his disappointment. Could feel his arms drop. Without missing so much as a chop, I tried to explain as I kept prepping away. Explain about the day and all its stresses and frustrations. How behind I was in … well, in just about everything. I thought it might help him understand.
He understood alright. He understood that those carrots took precedence over him. That I was so busy and my tasks so important, that I didn’t have a minute to acknowledge him. I couldn’t even be bothered to turn around.
But I wanted him to know that it was simply a matter of timing. I just wasn’t ready for love at that moment.
Wasn’t ready for love?
Did that really come from my mouth? From my heart?
The man needed his dinner. No doubt. What he needed even more? A warm, welcoming wife. I was so worried about filling his stomach that it seemed I forgot about filling his heart.
But what if … what if I’d done it different. What if I had dropped those carrots, swept the celery aside, turned around, clasped my hands around his neck, and … well …
Leaned back into him.
Stopped my whole world and interrupted my hectic schedule and important plans. To love on him.
Then he and I could have started a small kitchen fire.
So what does a husband really need? More than dinner. He needs your eyes to light up when he enters the room. He needs to know that how thrilled you are that he’s come home. How your heart leaps because you two are together again.
He needs a warm, welcoming wife.
So very warm — that the two of you alone could start a small kitchen fire.
Enter to Win a Copy of “100 Ways to Love Your Husband”!
This article is an excerpt from Lisa Jacobson’s new book, 100 Ways to Love Your Husband. We’re excited to have 5 ebook copies of both her book and the companion book, 100 Ways to Love Your Wife, written by her husband, Matthew L. Jacobson, to give away. These books are filled with practical and inspiring steps toward a lasting, loving marriage. Be sure to enter below for a chance to win a copy of both books!
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What Women Are Saying
-- Jenny Schroedel, author of Naming the Child: Hope-filled Reflections on Miscarriage, Stillbirth, and Infant Death
"Real life is not always pleasant. Every marriage experiences disappointments, misunderstandings, sickness and financial crisis. Ashleigh doesn’t camouflage the pain in her own marriage, and offers practical ideas on how to walk through the difficulties and find intimacy on the journey. If you are anything like me, I predict that as you read, you too will find yourself laughing, wiping tears, and saying 'Oh, yes.'"
-- Gary Chapman, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The 5 Love Languages
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