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Snow wishes and a letter to my husband.
We are finally getting the storm that was promised a week ago.
Unlike Elsa, the snow does bother me. A lot. I’m not comfortable in the cold. I do everything I can to avoid it.
But my perspective is different today. I’m watching the flurry of snow from my window, and since I am happily (and blessedly) in a warm house, wrapped in a plush blanket, I can watch the spirals of snowflakes on the wind without bitterness. I can see the beauty of something I hate because I am safe and cozy.
It made me wonder what else I’ve forgotten to notice. Or maybe I have noticed, but I haven’t taken time to really think about it. Sometimes when something is really good, I don’t want to think too much about it. If I realize my blessings, isn’t there a chance they’ll be snatched away?
Even though I don’t think the universe works that way, there’s still a fear that if I admire my shoes, one will eventually drop.
So, as with other ungrounded fears, I have to either face it, identify it, or prove it wrong. That’s the only way it goes away. Method of thought is a crazy thing that can make nightmares and magic all in one experience.
Today we’ll name a blessing, and a wish for the future. My relationship with my husband has had a few storms this winter. Plague, kids, college, jobs, and the stress of having to push on like we aren’t having any of those stressors. We can’t yell at our boss, we hate yelling at the kids, so we square up at each other. We’ve been married for nearly three years now, but this winter and the reality of being around each other 24 hours a day can knock anyone’s heads together.
So, today, in this cozy mood with my cozy scenery, I’m going to clothe my thoughts with words. It may help me for the next time I want to throw a dirty towel at him.
To my husband:
In our best times, which are more common than the conflicts, I feel safe and protected beside you.
I want you to feel the same. When one of us needs to step out of the yoke and address a conflict, I want us to trust the support of the other. We don’t need saving. We are two complete people by ourselves. We are both warriors at heart, but a soft place to land after the fray is a gift we can promise each other. My arms are open to you, and I trust yours when I need them most.
I want us to inspire courage in each other and to notice the difference between a misunderstanding and the activation of flight or fight. I want our steadfast hearts and winged souls to find refuge in each other. I want us to put up boundaries, respect them, and renegotiate them when limits have changed.
I want abundance for us, but also want challenge and ambition to be companions we seek out. I want to build dreams together, laugh about mistakes, and bask in successful projects. I want to spend time with you, and I also want to miss you. Nothing is more fun than discovering a new part of you, and in distance we can find new ways to be closer.
However, since there is a plague outside our door, we’ll have to focus more on the nearness of each other. We’ll learn how to thrive together and not just survive. Intentional space to be ourselves will starve the many little resentments that can build up in a household filled with a growing family. I trust us to do the best we can and be generous with forgiveness.
The music of your laugh is one of my favorite things, and I want to find all kinds of ways to inspire it. When you laugh I can hear your delight, I want to match it, just like you match my wit and enthusiasm for this ridiculous and wonderful life. I want our partnership to make opportunities seem attainable, and setbacks seem puddles we’re not afraid to jump around in.
I have you. I can check the box for true and honest love. You have me, so you can do the same. We belong to ourselves, and create little nests in our hearts for others to land. We’ve promised each other a soft place to rest for as long as we walk together. We find peace in each other and in that harmony we will continue down our path, hand and hand, for as much of the journey as possible.
It is the winter of a new year, and earth and life upon it promises change. Want it or not, the fates weave our destinies with little twists and turns that would seem to amuse only them. I hope we can laugh, ruefully sometimes, with them and gently unravel tangles and snags we are sure to encounter. If not, I hope we can fight in the way of a controlled burn—a destruction of things that no longer serve us, and a new space for healing and growth.
I want us to live well and grow together as we walk the path. I’m confident we will. Take my hand, kiss my forehead, and let’s get stepping.