Keep an Eye on the Sun

One thing my parents modeled well for me was the principle of resolving conflict daily.  They were and are committed to not allowing conflict to fester into something bigger each day.  

"...Don’t let the sun go down while you are still angry, 

for anger gives a foothold to the devil."

This comes from Ephesians 4:26-27.

We've always paraphrased it to, "Don't let the sun go down on your anger."

Simply put, Mom and Dad raised us and later counselled us 

not to close our eyes to sleep until the conflict is resolved.  

It's a principle that the Rugged Mountain Man and I have stayed solidly committed to over the years, not because we're amazing, but because each night, we've chosen to finish the hard or long conversations before we close our eyes to sleep.

It isn't easy.  There are so many times, I'd rather just go to bed silent and seething.  

Hard conversations are HARD.

We're both tired.  We feel like we're beating a dead horse.

Yet, out of the silence, one of us says, "I need to talk to you because this hurt my feelings," or some other opening phrase.  One of us speaks up.  It can be really tempting to make some inflammatory comment, but instead, with a deep breath, we try to calmly open the door to conversation.  

When I feel angry and upset, I want to push away.  In those moments, I know I need to humble myself and reach out to hold his hand.  It's turning over, instead of turning away.  It's uncrossing my harshly folded arms and leaning in.  I can see the choice I need to make.  

It's so tempting to push away, but I have found, time and time again, that humility in my body posture goes a long, long way.  Reaching out, rather than ignoring demonstrates that we're in this together.  It shows a willingness to reconcile.  It doesn't matter who reaches out first.  I can tell you that I feel the nudging of the Holy Spirit and I KNOW when I'm guilty of being proud or mean.  It's funny because often, that small step of reaching out, reaching back, or responding is usually the first baby step toward resolution.  As I reach back or reach out, I feel my heart soften.  

Because we are two imperfect human beings, the conversation wraps up with apologies.  I don't apologize though just because he "finally" gave me the apology I was "owed."  

I am not the Holy Spirit.  

As a wife, I know the temptation to hold it over him.  

"You OWE me an apology." 

Maybe he does.  

Maybe he doesn't.  

That's truly not my job to convince him.  I can let him know what's bothering me, 

but my responsibility is to have a clear conscience before God.

What does a genuine apology look like?

"I am sorry for ________________.  Will you please forgive me?"

What goes in that blank is what I did, not a passive aggressive accusation.

I don't say sorry because I always FEEL sorry.  I say sorry because I now know in my heart that what I did was wrong.  I'm humbling myself so we can start fresh.  

Over our 21 years of marriage, we've gone to sleep angry once.  The heavy burden of the conflict the next day was even harder to deal with.  I can't explain the horrible heaviness on our hearts to awake to unresolved conflict between us.  We don't want to give the devil a foothold in our marriage and that's exactly what it felt like. It felt like a wedge between us, when there is normally nothing between us.  

We agreed to never do that again.  

In the silence of a finally quiet home, with the Blossoms dropping off to sleep after a busy day, we choose to talk it out... even when we're exhausted.

(Please note: I am not advocating to wait til nightfall to discuss things.  It simply happens often that this is the time of day and the location where the Rugged Mountain Man and I are most able to discuss things more privately and fully.  We choose bedtime as our arbritrary deadline, so to speak.)