How important is it to share everything? Okay, not everything. I don’t need to know when my husband made a left hand turn at the intersection of Main and Bolivar, but everything. The important things. Well, important is relative. Relative to what though?
I was struggling with a personal monster this weekend, and still am. That being said, my husband kept something from me over the course of the weekend in order to better help me with my struggle. Is that right or wrong? Who is to say? My husband did not tell me something that I view as really important and even urgent in order to better assist me in my own way. In his mind, he was completely justified in not telling me. In mine, not so much.
Let’s just start this off by talking about Benjamin Franklin and his discovery of how electricity works. Okay, we’ve talked enough about that now… because I don’t really know how electricity works, I just trust that it does and when it doesn’t, I call the power company or my resident electrician, my husband. My sweet husband deals with his own monsters, in the form of migraine and he fought with one on Friday this weekend and was down in bed for the majority of the day. He was scheduled for overtime on Saturday and he still wasn’t feeling great, but he grumbled out of bed and out the door so that he could work to provide for our little family (mostly because he missed work on Friday.) He came home on time Saturday evening and he was a little cranky, but nothing out of the ordinary for having to work ten hours on your day off… you know what I mean? We went to bed at a normal time and when Sunday morning rolled around, I could tell another headache had set in… or so I thought.
I went about my day and took the kiddos to church and came home and he still wasn’t feeling up to par. I tried to make sure that he was taking his migraine medication, but he was being resistant and I couldn’t figure out why. I was just getting frustrated with him. I just wanted to help him be on a recovery path from his migraine… is that too much to ask?
I climbed into bed Sunday evening just after nine and as I’m drifting off I mumbled something about him not taking his meds like he is supposed to. He then said “because I got shocked yesterday.” I sat up in bed, threw the covers off, stomped across the room and flicked the lights on. “You what?” We talked for a few minutes, the situation diffused and we fell asleep holding hands.
As I got up with the alarm clock this morning and made my husband’s lunch I meandered the kitchen thinking of what had happened. My electrician, my husband, had been electrocuted at work. When he came out from getting ready for the day, I made him promise me to never hide something this big from me, even if it was for my own well-being while I was fighting with my own monsters. Husbands and wives should be openly communicating, most especially if we faced death over the course of the day. Sheesh. I do love him. And he loves me. He didn’t keep it from me because I didn’t need to know. He kept it from me so that I could be successful in my own endeavor. He kept it from me because he loves me, as much as I love him. So, while we should share everything, we should share everything at the right time.
I do believe that my husband was guided to keep this from me when he did, and I put my trust in him and in our Savior, that it was all just perfect… even though I didn’t think so at the time.
I love you mister.