Category: Work Smarter, Not Harder

At the beginning of any potential relationship, I take my sweet time. I meticulously observe the person I’m getting to know and wonder how their character will manifest itself in the variety of environments we might be in together. I started this very deliberately in high school. The girl who became my maid of honor was a volleyball try-out friend first, then a classroom partner, then a lunchroom buddy, and then a best friend. Our relationship grew slowly, but intentionally. I talked, and Kristen listened. And then she talked, and I practiced listening better. Kristen was with me every step of the way during my long-distance relationship with Cody, and she always supported me, even if she thought I was being crazy. She let it all out during her speech at the wedding though, so I think we’re even now.

I always told myself my high expectations for people was a great thing. I told myself I was doing this meticulous character inspection because I was a smart girl and smart girls have high expectations. I enforced these high expectations and reaped some benefits: a few amazing friends and a stellar husband. And then I found the flaw in this approach when it didn’t work out in my favor.

According to the old adage, I am who my friends are. So, if I was a stubborn ninny who immediately gave up on someone once they showed a weakness and flaw in character, so would my friends. One of my dearest friends has become a stranger to me because we do not yet have the grace to forgive each other and move on. But this is a blog about wife reflections and not friend problems, so let’s get to the point.

This high expectations approach might work in attaining the type of person you want as a life partner, but it no longer works if you want to stay married.

I mess up on a daily basis. Despite my manicured, witty performances outside of the home, I say the wrong things and show my flaws recklessly. When it comes to Public Ania and Cody’s Ania, Cody’s Ania is a lot messier, way more insecure, selfish, and needy. By the end of the day, I really do wonder how such a good guy like Cody would want to stay with me, one who has so much to work on? But let’s be real – despite all these hiccups, I still expect him to breathe and understand. He vowed to stick around through thick and thin, right? I’m not as thin as I was in high school, and I’m layered in complexes and anxieties galore. But he still loves me, and that expectation is embossed on solid foundation.

BUT here’s the twisted part. When he has his own slip up, I get upset, wonder what I was thinking seven years ago, and find it difficult to award the same grace and forgiveness. It’s a terrible double-standard and I’ve been working on this since the beginning of our relationship.

When I maintain these almost too-difficult and too-high expectations for my husband, I am not allowing him to be his true, flawed, perfect self. It’s true when they say that there really is no perfect person – just the person you choose to love despite those quirks. Shoot, you even learn to find the quirks endearing (see Bridget Jones’ Diary for an example).

I’ve decided this week that, if I keep my expectations lower, I’m way less disappointed, much more delighted when things go well, and able to focus more on how I’m giving to the relationship and less on what I’m not getting. To be clear, this doesn’t mean I forsake my own wants and desires and needs. It just means I look at my husband’s calloused hands before I demand a massage of my own. 

“O Master, Grant that I may never seek
so much to be consoled, as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
and to love, as to love with all my soul.”
– Prayer of St. Francis

This last Tuesday was a really long day. I came home briefly, saw Cody for a hot second, and told him I would be back in 25 minutes. Even though 8pm was approaching and I’d been working for a good 12 hours, I had one last errand to run. When I FINALLY came home for the evening, there was a hot, nutritious meal ready for me, tea waiting for me, and a big bear hug wrapping itself around me. If I had spent the whole day expecting that he’d do all the laundry, keep the house clean, and make dinner, I would have been setting him up for massive failure. He worked all day, too, after all. Instead, I focused on the immediates in front of me and I felt taken care of and forgiven for that day’s flaws. Wow. God’s love manifested indeed.

A quote from our perpetual couple calendar says, “Give 90% of yourself to your spouse and expect only 20% in return.” I scoffed at it the first time I read it because us independent women should have high expectations. But, after almost two years of marriage, I realize that it’s not fair to expect everything of him all the time. We’re not dating any more, where we would have some days apart and he’d have days to plan these extravagant adventures. Instead, we plan together as we weave through the day-to-day blessings of ordinary life, and although this sometimes feels less glamorous and romantic, it is definitely real.

By granting my husband the grace of low expectations, his choice to give of himself then becomes a true gift of sacrificial love.