There was a moment, 20 years ago, when I was given a short piece of advice that I’d remember for the rest of my life. When it was spoken, it slapped me in the face, punched me in the stomach, and spun me around for a second attack. I remember exactly where I was sitting, where the person was that said it, and how the words were spoken. What I don’t remember is what was going on around me. Perhaps because I have purposely blocked that part out. It was at my bridal shower. This church girl is embarrassingly, but admittedly not a fan of showers. Yes, it is unfortunately true. While some reading this might be shaking your head in disappointment, I’m so sorry. But for those who are thinking “Me either!” You’re welcome.
At this particular shower (which I am sincerely grateful for, all kidding aside), I was given a piece of advice that changed me… to the core. Glenda Branch said to me, “Kristin, someone gave me advice when I was getting married that I am going to pass on to you.” She said so gently and softly, “Don’t ever speak badly about your husband in public.”
Excuse me? Slap. What did you say? Punch.
Is that a thing? There are people who don’t speak badly about their spouses in public? What about when I get mad at him? Or I’m annoyed? I need to vent? What exactly does “public” mean? Like just don’t shout about his flaws in large groups, or do my girlfriends count as public? Dang it. You can’t unhear that.
Recently, well, before quarantine so it’s been a few months, I attended a fundraising event where a friend of mine walked up to me in a large, loud crowd. She grabbed my arms and said, “I’ve been wanting to tell you something.” She stared at me so intently that all the noise, the music, the crowd disappeared and all I could see and hear was her. She said, “I need to tell something, but you can’t get upset.” We had just made a Blessing sign for her husband, so that was a scary lead in.
“Kristin, I know what you’re going to do. You’re going to worry and feel bad and try to fix this. But don’t. You have to hear me.” She proceeded.
On her sign, the line “for my husband” is engraved at the top. Then the words of her Blessing are below. It’s beautiful. It’s engraved, painted light grey, and framed with a dark, textured wood frame. But… in the word “husband”, there’s a faint line. An imperfection. My heart stopped.
She said, “When I first saw it my immediate reaction was, ‘ughhh’.” She paused and moved her hands down to squeeze both of mine. “But then, God spoke to me. I heard… ‘Are you really going to miss all the good and focus on the flaw?’” Tears filled her eyes. She said, “Kristin, that’s what I do. I focus on the flaws. There is all of this beauty in my husband, my children, and even myself, but my eyes immediately go the flaw. That line is perfect. It needed to be there.”
I went home that night and shared what she had said with Paul. When I intro’d with, “Terese mentioned something to me about the sign tonight.” He froze. After I told him the entire story, he raised both of his hands to his eyes and wiped tears. “I stayed up for hours and hours the night before we delivered the sign trying to buff that line out,” he said. “Hours. It wouldn’t come out.”
The line is meant to be there.
I’ve thought on this moment almost every day since. There has been numerous, and I mean numerous, times where I now realize I’m doing the exact same thing to my husband. Even though I try to follow the advice I was given so many years ago, not to speak badly about him in public, I still often look at him and immediately find a flaw. While the advice is an important start, it’s not enough. While the flaws I find might actually be real, because we are all flawed, what is the truth is the entire work of art… all the beauty, all the gifts, all the strength, and all the love in this extraordinary human.
I am challenging myself to choose to see the entire work of art. To recognize the line, but to see the beauty in my husband, in my children, and perhaps even in myself. If I ever attend a bridal shower again, that will be my advice. And the gift I will bring? A Blessing sign with the perfect line.
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I did something different for this post. I interviewed Terese over Zoom because of her beautiful gift for words. You need to hear directly from her. Watch a portion of our interview at the bottom of the post and hear how this moment affected her even beyond what I’ve shared here. I didn’t feel like I could write it as powerfully as she spoke it.
Terese, you are inspiring. You have challenged me to not only take reign of my words, but to realize the beauty that surrounds the lines. You are a beautiful soul and I’m grateful to know you.
See the sign, see the line, and hear her story below.
