Jealousy, Envy, and Why I Left the Rant

I posted a rant post last night, part of my personal therapy, I suppose. A few hours later, I pulled the post, feeling like I was at the prom and had just discovered the back of my dress was tucked into my pantyhose.

But today, I put it back.

And here's why.

One of the support groups that helped me get well has this saying "sharing our encouragement strength and hope". That's why I started this blog. To tell my evolving redemption st0ry and to have a place to post my aha! moments. Like I've said before, I am redeemed, and I cannot shut up about it.

So I had said from the start that this blog would have no rants. That I would get my shit togther offline and tell y'all about it later. I made an exception last night, and I have decided to let it stand. My reason for leaving a post up that makes me look like I have my prom gown stuck in my pantyhose? Jealousy.

Jealousy?

Yeah. Let me explain. I received an email from someone I care about, a girlfriend I've known for a little over a year telling me basically "don't call me I'll call you I can't stand being around you anymore because you have everything I want and I'm so jealous I just can't stand it anymore."

I actually didn't feel angered or hurt by this. I felt a profound respect for her. Because I've been there. And mercy is contagious.

I believe there are two kinds of jealousy.

Envy-which says the only good in the world is the good I do not have therefore I will stew in resentment and misery
Desire for more-which says I really want what they have enough that I will get honest with God and another human being about my desire and I will do whatever it takes to have what I desire, one good choice at a time.

So that's why I tattled on myself. Let the rant stand. Because I wanted to show that living alive to pleasure received through the senses and committed to enjoying my man and being enjoyed by him for life sometimes isn't easy. And really, most of the time, the problem is between my two ears. My own thoughts. My own attitudes. My own choices. Something can happen that rocks my confidence, and then I open my own mouth in griping and helpless tantrum anger and make the situation oh so much worse. Which is what I did last night. Chuck Swindoll said "perfectionists are people who take pains—and then give them to other people." Sigh. Raise my right hand. Yep. Here I am exhibit A.

So what happened?

What choices did I make between my fit of woes at 10:30 last night and 9am this morning?

Well, I made a few good choices.

I got honest with God, myself and another human being.

I spilled out my wrath onto the page and asked a few of my girlfriends to read it and pray for me. God, that's what I love about online community. Someone is awake and online somewhere at 10:30pm. I even did what might seem risky or downright foolish. But when desperation trumps pride it's amazing what you'll do to get well. I called my Mom. At 10:30 at night, I called her. I knew they'd be awake, and they were. Eating popcorn and watching a movie with Beloved Child. I told her, "Mom, I screwed up and I want you to pray for me. I had sucky nonexistent boundaries and so I spent what was supposed to be dinner with my husband talking with my mother about my office which I had gone to the salon in a valiant attempt to ignore. Because I didn't want to think about work this weekend. It's totally my fault. You did nothing wrong. It's my deal. I just want to ask you to pray for me because I am really mad at myself for not speaking up. Because I know you and I know you know wives and mamas need Grandma babysitters for a reason. And if I had said "Mom I really want dinner with just my husband tonight" you would have whisked Beloved Child away and bought him a burger on the way to your house. But I didn't. And I'm really mad at myself." "Is your husband mad at you?" "NO! It's me. It's my dumb choice and it's me who's angry at me. Will you pray for me?" And she did. Then she said "you can go have fun tonight. You can forgive yourself. You can do that."

My sweet girlfriend who was awake at 10:30pm and online sent me the sweetest email that said, "Quote >>
And when I'm angry at myself in close proximity to Delighted Husband, it sounds like I'm angry at him. But I'm not. I'm angry AT myself NEAR him.
<< Quote

I hear you. I'm so sorry that the conditioned "yes" response escaped your lips! BTDT. I feel your pain tonight, I really do. You'll do better next time!!!"

It meant the WORLD to me. I began to feel like "Hey Miss Girl. Snap out of it. Forgive yourself. Your unforgiveness toward yourself is hurting your husband. Get off the cross! Somebody needs the wood!"

I walked over to the microwave where I have this little quote from The Message. "Bridle your wrath, cool your pipes. It only makes things worse."

So I crept back to bed. Snuggled up to Delighted Husband and whispered an apology into his shoulder blade. "Did you really have a tantrum and talk all mean and angry, honey? I thought it was just a bad dream."
Ack!
Thus began a second helping of humble pie. My sincere apology. I began to pet and stroke his hair. And with every happy murmur he made, I felt my tension release. I forgave myself my little boundary boo-boo. I forgave myself for my fit of anger towards myself. I can be so mean to myself. And it makes me so mean to the people who love me. Shit rolls downhill.

Why am I telling y'all this?

Because I want you to know that the love I have with Delighted Husband is real. And sometimes hard work. And anything good I have. Anything good I have to share with y'all is mine because of the grace of God, the love and support of some healthy loving friendships, and my one good choice at a time.

Don't be jealous of my life.
Go build your own. One good choice at a time.
I'm just a regular girl who has made a series of good choices and has been humble enough to backtrack my bad choices and let myself be loved in spite of them.
Nobody (besides yourself) will be happier for you than me. Because I will know how much it cost you. And I will celebrate you and respect you so much. Every little victory matters so much.

Lordy! I hope this comes out right. I'm afraid it might sound uppity, but there I am with my prom dress tucked into my pantyhose and there's nothing haughty about that! (smile shaking head rolling my eyes) What I am trying to say is I love y'all, and I want you to be well. Almost as much as I want my self to be well. And I've recieved so much love from this online community. So much support for my halting steps toward good choices. I feel it's the least I can do to tattle on myself and let you know how your love and prayers have made such a difference in my life and marriage.

If this made any sense to you whatever, please have mercy on me and let me know. A girl likes to think she didn't bare her pantyhose for nothin! (laugh)
Love,
SW

After Glow

I'll tell you the same thing I've told all my girlfriends to whom I recommend scheduled sex and they wrinkle their nose and say "ohh but wouldn't that take all the fun out of it?"

Girls, I have walked into an evening of scheduled sex at many stages of arousal, desire, or lack thereof.
And I've never regretted it.
Ever.

I could tell you that making love regularly creates hormonal bonds with your husband, boosts self-esteem, and promotes an overall sense of well-being, ease, and satisfaction. But perhaps you'll understand it better if I tell you a little story.

It's 8:30pm and I have just been loved truly, madly, deeply and past the edge of reason. And now Boy Scouts are over and it's time to go pick up Dear Child. I groan, and stretch and peel myself out of bed. I'm looking for a little consolation prize so I decide to try on that cute little sundress that was too small the last time I tried it. It fits. Yeah, baby! This is just the boost I need. I glide out of the house pausing briefly to slip on some sandals.

I pull up to the door of the church and the scoutmaster who happens to be the pastor walks out with a smile and props his elbow on my drivers side mirror in a conversational pose.
"Wellll hellloooo!"
I give a quick little smile and beckon Dear Child into the SUV. Friendly Pastor will not be dissuaded.
"So how was date night?"
"Great!" I cannot suppress a smile.
"So where'd you go for dinner?"
I stammer, "Um, we, er, We had a picnic" I hope this is at least partially true. I think we ate something before we got busy. I could not tell you what we ate if my life depended on it.
"Ohhh a picnic! Great idea! Where'd you go?"
I feel the heat suffuse my face and know a blush is blooming over my cheeks. "Uhh, we had our picnic at home."
There is a brief tiny flash of recognition and Friendly Pastor draws back like he's been stung. He backpedals admirably with "Well thanks for letting Dear Child participate in our program! We sure had a fun time tonight!"
I smile a proper motherly smile and thank him right back. What I want to say but don't...
No problem, Rev. We wouldn't let him quit if he wanted to! We need the free babysitting!

Dear Son is hungry, so I drive him to Subway and I walk over to Starbucks to get a decaf sugarfree cinnamon dolce.
My walk becomes a saunter as I think of all the things I just did with Delighted Husband. To the casual observer, I am a thirtysomething housewife. A curvaceous soccer mom who shops at Lane Bryant. But I know I am a sex goddess. And Delighted Husband knows it too. I smile. Just feeling good in every joint of my body. I feel lithe and relaxed and absolutely gorgeous. Gorgeous is as gorgeous does. And gorgeous does. She certainly does.

Warmth and Light

it's been more clear to me lately how important it is for me to shine my radiance and feel the light and warmth inside. And it's become increasingly clear how I can't make it happen by myself. All the radiance I ever shine, all the warmth and light I feel and share isn't my radiance at all. It's on permanent loan from God, I just have to renew my subscription. Check in and charge up.

And quite often the charging up I receive comes from people in my life.

But, and this is SO subtle, sometimes there can be this tiny or big shift in my heart and I start to look to the people in my life as if they are the source all feelgoodness or okayness or validation instead of perhaps being a frequent messenger from Himself. So I start to look to them instead of Himself and of course I am disspointed. What human—glorious and frail we may be—can compare with Himself?

So I start to feel cold and stung and dissapointed.

When the silent seismic shift took place in my own heart. It is my deal.

Then I remember this familiar ache and by the loving prompting of Spirit, I remember "hmmm, the last time I felt this achy sawdust in my heart it was because I turned one of the people that I love into an idol."

Ohhhhhhh

Then I bump Himself back to the head of the line where he belongs as primary lover in my life. And then all the other ones who love me look so precious and appealing and new. And I feel that borrowed radiance shining inside me again. Subscription renewed. Shine on!

and beloved Sara Groves said it better than I ever could, so I'll leave you with her sweet voice and haunting words.

I am the moon with no light of my own
still you have made me to shine
and as I glow in this cold dark night
I know I cannot be a light unless I turn my face to you

cause everywhere you are is warmth and light

Oh! It happens every time! Everytime I feel all alive and full of warmth and light, there are two things I want to do right away. I want to sing to Himself then I want to make love to Delighted Husband. Spread that warmth and light all over his dear self! ;)

Love y'all.
Have a good weekend!
-SW

Grateful

Oh my God I am the most blessed woman on the planet.
Feels that way to me anyway.
(blissed out vacant stare)
(contented sigh)

Today was one of the most painful and difficult days of my life.
You'd never know it by the look on my face.
Escaping into eroticism with Delighted Husband is a passport into a private world rain or shine. I am so deeply grateful.

The Pleasure of Surrender

My friend Eleutheros wrote something the other day that just made my jaw drop for the sheer force of the truth he shared. At first, all I could say was "Oh my God. Yes! Yes!"

I've touched on this topic as an aside in other discussions, but I've never seen it put so succinctly before.

Writing to another awakened wife (my friend Gemma) Eleutheros wrote:

[quote]As your awakening progressed, begining with your decision to not refuse sex to your husband, it likely struck something positive in your core to find that you enjoyed submitting yourself to your husband's sexuality. It tickled you inside, didn't it, to find yourself not just enjoying sex wantonly with him but craving it!
And in delivering yourself over to this wantoness, to this craving.....you found the power in your sexuality to pleasure yourself with your husband's love. And I'm sure, when you saw the delight in your husbands positive responses to your wantoness, your beautiful feminine soul felt a deep fullfillment that you never expected to find you were capable of experiencing.[/quote]

This is the beauty of how a husband's and wife's eroticism feed off each other, egging each other on until their passion takes on this beautiful spiral a sexual chambered nautilus of eroticism.

This dynamic of letting go inside and surrendering myself to the passion, letting myself let my hair down and just revel in it, this is high-octane powerful stuff! This can happen alone, in fact the first awakenings of this feeling happened in the sacred interior of my woman heart as I embraced and made friends with my sexuality. Reading books on sexuality, learning how to pleasure myself were important parts of this process. But the heat kicked up to a whole nother level when I started revealing my newly-minted wantonness to my husband. Whoa, baby!

I offered myself and he took me greedily and with fervor. And when he did, I remember the moment I completely let go and let myself get off on his craving, his loving, his wanting, his taking. It was a huge personal risk inside to let myself want him that badly. To let myself want his wanting that badly. Because wanting that badly runs a risk of dissapointment. I had matured enough as a person that I was convinced my sexuality was good and I was okay (David Schnarch calls this holding on tightly to yourself) so as I said it remember the moment I first gave into the craving.
Not tolerance (well okay if you want to
not desire (hey I'd really like it if we..)
not passion (yes! I want to)
but craving (OMG yes! yes! if you stop thrusting within me I will simply die).
It was in that encounter that I had one of my first vaginal orgasms.
Christopher McCluskey calls this Apex Surrender Control to Each Other.
David Schnarch calls this Wall Socket Sex.
I call it fucking.

Body and soul, I literally take pleasure in abandoning myself to my husband's loving.

Like a chambered nautilus, the surrender goes in stages and spirals building a beautiful momentum. In order to surrender to my husband's love, I had to surrender to my self to my own eroticism, and in order to surrender to my self my own eroticism I had to surrender to God. And the joy of fully inhabiting the sexual nature of our covenant makes my husband and I want to worship God which brings us full circle in a beautiful spiral of love.

I have come to believe that some risks are worth taking. I have literally come to this belief through one soul-shaking orgasm after another, my body and heart have learned it is good to want my husband wantonly. Risky? Lordy yes! Letting yourself truly want anything that much is a risk becuase if you are dissapointed you will feel the dissapointment keenly. But there is such a thing as a good risk. And surrendering to the sexuality God placed within me and craving that sexuality, reveling in it with my husband is a real good risk. He is a good man and surrender to his his love for me is a very good risk.

It would show lack of integrity on my part if I didn't reveal that like every other human, I sometimes experience dissapointment. As wonderful as my Delighted Husband is, we are opposite enough to attract and opposite enough to sometimes disagree or misunderstand each other. Lordy, how he can piss me off! Lordy how I can piss him off! When we get our signals crossed and out of synch with each other, it's awful. And we've learned to communicate through those roadblocks, pray, seek wise counsel and get back on track. Every couple goes through temporary disconnects.

But there is another risk that is also costly and that is the risk of never taking a risk. If I die tomorrow, I am deeply grateful that I fully lived. I have fully inhabited the feminine sexual body and feminine sexual heart God gave me and I gratefully consider it a risk worth taking.

Revival (sequel to Come Just As You Are)

sequel to Come Just As You Are



Afterglow was nothing less than a revival.
His sweat and my tears made me clean.
Baptism.

Just like I would at a revival, I began to weep for joy at the profoundly good overwhelming of being seized by the power of a great affection. The experience of being so deeply known in all my glory and imperfection and so deeply loved. The point wasn't being perfect. The point was being perfectly one.

I lay there reeling in afterglow grasping and caressing his forearm and hand. I didn't fondle him. I read him like braille. Savoring memory imprinted in body and soul from the countless times I had felt his hands on me, seen them, touched them. I began to recount the innumerable ways his hands have loved me. And I began to weep over them, kiss them with the devotion and passion of the woman washing Jesus' feet with her tears. In gasping little sobs, I recounted the story of his hands and the story of him as a man, and the story of us.

• These are the hands who work so hard to provide for me.
• These are the hands that caress my cheek, mold around my cheek in a palmed embrace.
• These are the hands who held our wet wriggling children after they emerged from me in the birth chamber.
• These are the hands who unconsciously pat my butt when he is deeply lost in sleep.
• These are the hands who open my door for me, car doors, restaurant doors, career doors, church doors, any and every door, for years without fail.
• These are the hands who wash the dishes after I have spent my energy in a fit of culinary creative passion.
• These are the hands that wordlessly grasp the tray or book that is slipping out of my grasp.
• These are the hands that steady me when I nearly lose my purchase on an icy sidewalk.
• These are the hands that when clasped with mine produce a powerful surge of erotic joy and friendly companionship from the very first handhold.
• These are the hands that have carried boxes into our new home after signing endless documents at closing.
• These are the hands that I hold without concious thought on every date whether that date is a grand fete or a watching a netflix movie snuggled on the couch.
• These are the hands that placed two ice chips in my dry panting mouth during the few precious seconds that punctuated each contraction.
• These are the hands that hold my Bible for me while we read together in church.
• These are the hands that do open-heart surgery on my computer when it is sick and make it well again.
• These are the hands that push the mower, wield the paintbrush, grasp the pressure-washer wand to keep our home presentable and inviting without ever being asked.
• These are the hands that press a proud jealous claim into the small of my back when we are out together on a date.
• These are the hands that clap for me when he sits in the second row of each and all of my performances.
• These are the hands that unconciously open like petals shyly blooming as he offers his worship to God when he thinks no one else is watching because his eyes are closed.
• These are the hands that press countless Christmas lights into the eaves of our home's second story because he knows I feel a child's delight for Christmas lights so he gives it to me as a gift even though he could go without them every year and be perfectly happy.

It is these hands, so integrated into every chink and curve of my life that have just pressed into every chink and curve of my body and called forth a resounding sexual response I didn't know I possessed. It is the wholeness, the absolute integrated nature of our love that leaves me weeping in revival. The breathtaking scope of lifelong love with fucking being a natural spot on the wheel of loving. He loves me with his hands in the full spectrum of life. It's in this sacred vernacular that I am loved by this man loved by his hands in every conceivable way. Is it any wonder I weep for joy?

Come Just As You Are

Sometimes your best-laid plans going off-course is the best thing that could happen to you.

I had a major diva moment planned for this evening. I had been planning to think sex all day and I even took the day off of work to allow that to happen. But this was the busiest day off I've ever had. I love audiobooks, they're such a great companion along the busy day. So knowing I had loads of domestic goddess stuff to accomplish today, I was Proactive Polly and bought a romantic audiobook this morning so I could "whistle while you work" so to speak while I ran errands and did the laundry and paid bills. The blasted thing wouldn't work. Oh it would work on my computer, it just wouldn't work on my PDA or MP3 player. And since I can't lug my computer around with me all day, then for all practical purposes, the audiobook wouldn't work. I kept trying. In between errands and counselor appointment and lunch and laundry and I would take a crack at it every couple hours or so. No go. After the kids came home from school, I managed to sneak off for a hot bath with candles and perfume and that did the trick. I finally managed to get out of my head and into my body. Ah. Sigh of relief. SW is finally ready for DH.
Then.
The cellphone rings and it's the difficult customer from hell. Calling me on my day off because son-of-a-biscuit-eater! I am still on call. This customer is complaining like I owe them the moon when I am the one doing them an extra special favor from the get-go. But to hear them tell it, I have ruined their weekend and they are ready to take their favorhogging business elsewhere. Which to tell the truth, leaving would be the kindest most decent thing they could ever do for me. Let them go favor someone else adnauseum. But that's not how I was raised. I was raised to take the high road and let the customer win. To keep my promises and be noble and end on a good note. So I apologized where I could without outright lying and I promised to help them leave with all the loose ends tied up. You want to leave? Okay. Let's just have you leave the classy way not the bitchy way. Okay.

All this took a tremendous toll on my sexual mojo and my heart in general. And now it's nearly 6 o'clock. I have this great Mata Hari seduction scene planned and I can't get anywhere close to horny.

I'll skip the dinner and parenting moments except to say that they were positive and loving and took twice as long as usual thereby sucking up the time I planned to spend revamping my mojo by taking another bubble bath (hey it worked the first time) or reading a good old printed page romance novel.

DH came home early to find me reading Harry Potter to the kids wearing a green mask and pajamas.

But I had so many plans for this evening!
I was going to be the confident grand seductress!
So I hustle into the closet looking for a negligee the way Superman looks for a cape.
My precious momentum is shot. I feel discombobulated and frantic.
I hustle into the bathroom to put on a little lipstick and confidence.
When I emerge from the bathroom, he makes all kinds of approving happy sounds.
We begin to snuggle and I began to cry. I realize that lovemaking is like worship. We show up as we are. Happy, hungry, confident or broken, we show up and offer all that we are to our beloved. Just as we are without one plea. DH doesn't need a Mata Hari performance. Although he will surely enjoy one if I feel that I want to do some confident seduction. But I realized that, like God, all DH wants from me is me.
What a relief.
So we lay there entwined and told him I had hoped to be my confident sexy horny self and had taken deliberate steps toward helping that happen but that instead the woman in our bed tonight was loving tired stressed and willing. To him that was more than enough. He began to...well I want to cherish him by not giving you the blow-by-blow. I'll just say he began to adore me and enjoy me and I found myself aroused inspite of how far down the path the cares of this world had pulled me, he drew me back. Closer to home and closer and closer and closer. He, my most dearly beloved, made me do things and make sounds I didn't know I was capable of. It was a long road, much longer than usual, but his body is the roadmap to joy, his sexy grin is the beacon to the homeport, and he drew me out and helped me come home.

That derailed seduction scene turned out to be one of the most emotionally spiritually intimate and satisfying moments of my life.
Sometimes you "bring it".
Sometimes you come just as you are.

Stay Sensuous

A dear friend of mine closed our conversation with those words.
and you know what?
He was absolutely right.

It's so easy to get caught up in the cares of this life and forget to stay sensuous and deliberately remain alive to pleasure.

One of the things that really inspires me to keep the home fires simmering is to read stories from another wife who is enthusiastically enjoying her husband. And just such a wife shared her story and I was inspired. Please allow me to introduce my new friend Gemma. She's wayyy in love with her husband, Gemma's Ravisher, and she's not ashamed to talk about it. I admire her candor and her passion for her husband and her God. Now, dearies, if frank sexy talk offends you, then perhaps Gemma's not your cup of tea. The rest of you, enjoy! I think Gemma poses an excellent question, "Why do spouses allow the busyness of life to take priority over their sex lives? Would someone please give me a good reason "why"??? What could be more important than tending to our passion for each other?"
Last night Delighted Husband and did a little something about that. Okay a big something. Okay, a shagfest. He was a little surprized at my fervor since it had only been a few days but for me a few days with nary a sexual thought or twinge of desire is an ETERNITY. But we're all back on track. I squirm just remembering. (ooooh)

God is good. Giving me the little nudge in the right direction. He knows what I need better than I do. And what I needed was several doses of Delighted Husband Love.

Loving Your Man

It touches my heart when I come across a story of a wife loving her man with all her heart and engaging him on every level. This story of intimate friendship and sweet companionship is a real keeper. My favorite quote: "Love expands. Every time I think I love him as much as I can, I learn that I'm wrong."

God bless you, Gluten-Free Girl and Chef. Keep on living and loving sensuously! -SW

At Peace with the Ebb and Flow

Perhaps the most beautiful benefit of knowing my body and knowing my sexual self is this marvelous sense of acceptance and joy about every phase of my fertility cycle and sexual response cycle. So much satisfaction and peace from knowing that every color in the pallete has beauty and is worth painting on the sheets and on my lover.
For example.
During the armful of days leading up to ovulation, my sexual response cycle has a ravenous, saucy edge. Multiples are the norm and waiting with jagged breath for Delighted Husband to get home from work (he has a longer commute than me) is punctuated by hot text messages. Some with pictures. Love takes on a lusty hue. I don't objectify him. And all this heat happens in the context of lovingrespect. But I have to agree with my friend Dena when she calls the days leading up to and including ovulation as Wanton Woman Week.
The morning after ovulation, I can feel the drop in hormonal hornyness. A deep peaceful sigh and an internal awareness that Hurricane Horny has blown over. But I know she will re-appear next month.

Thus begins the next phase. What I call the Sure Darlin' Sweet and Meaningful phase. I love Delighted Husband just as much as always, and this phase allows me to savor him instead of gulping. I love being the sweet sacred place his heart and body go on vacation. I love receiving him. And here's where the sweet acceptance has made all the difference. I now know the joy of not trying for multiples when it's not hurricane season. I no longer lose my connection to him as I frantically try to make it happen. I just enjoy the dance. The invitation is always open. Delighted Husband knows he possesses my only Season Pass. So when he initiates lovemaking during this phase, I give him my biggest loving smile of Welcome Home. And I enjoy his loving invasion. Every. Single. Thrust. I have finally "gotten" the loving inner revelation of enjoying the journey without thinking about the destination. Now if you tell me that during Hurricane Horny, I'll tell you you're effing crazy! (laugh) Cause in the midst of that storm, I'm whispering, "Destination! Destination! Come home early, Destination!".

THAT'S being at peace with the ebb and flow.
God, I love being a woman.
-Sensuous Wife

I've been given so much

I've been given so much.
As I consider my life, I am astounded at the too-much grace of God.
I'm having one of those moments of clarity, y'all so please be my witnesses.
Life is good.
Life is immeasurably good because life is the gift of an immeasurably good God.
I have come to believe that the best way I can write a suitable thank you note to God is to live this life he gave me in such a way that I don't miss a morsel.
My life is filled with immeasurable sweetness.
The curly hair on my husband's head brushing my fingertips as I caress him for the millionth time.
The wind cupping my hair and cheek in a rushing caress as I race my children in a bicycle race.
The calm stately aliveness coursing through my posture as I stand erect arms outstretched chin lifted a smile hugging my face as I sing out my worship.
The pleasure on the faces of my family as I read to them.
The winking twinkle of delight in my brain as I learn something new.
The incomparable comfort of a friend's voice on the phone whether I am giving them my comfort or they are giving me theirs or both as usually happens.
The soul-deep gratitude for the afterglow of lovemaking, cherishing the feeling that for a few minutes every cell in our two bodies are lined up and doing exactly as they should be and that sweet awareness that every star and cell and planet in the world is dancing their known beautiful rhythm.
The sweet understanding that suffering will sometimes happen and that its purpose is to draw me to God, to nudge me into that sweet leaning on the everlasting arms.
The honoring humbling beautiful certainty that every choice I make counts and that I've been endowed with the power to offer beauty to the humans in my world.
Every folded towel
every lovely nourishing meal
every sharp word swallowed instead of spoken
every time my palm wraps around the cheek of someone I love, it matters. They all matter.
Every flower I coax out of the ground
every endless mess I sweep from my floor
every laundered and unshrunk outfit
every guest who feels welcomed and set free to make memories
every customer who is treated fairly and generously
every piece of paper that counted and filed and processed and administrated
every piece of jewelry selected and worn with a smile and a spring in my step
every sorrow I give to God on suffering bended knees or on fists clenched in outrage
it all matters.
Very very much.
Every phone call I do not answer so I can make love to my husband
Every phone call I answer holding the invisible hand of my girlfriend
Every hastily sent "i love u" text message
Every "bye darling" hollered as I walk out the kitchen door
Every "I'm sorry. I was wrong. Will you please forgive me?"
It all matters.
Very very much.
Every miraculous moment when the heroic grace of God bumps my mind out of the selfdestructive rut it sometimes finds itself
It matters.
And God Almighty is in every single one of these moments.

I talk alot about sex on this blog.
I talk alot about feelings and beauty and love.
Seen by itself, this blog isn't balanced.
Seen up against cnn, msnbc, foxnews and every grisly headline in every newspaper, this blog is my little pebble towards equal time and balance. When pebbles of grace outweigh boulders of despair, you know God has put his hand on the scale.

I love you all.
Thank you for reading.

Allies Til Death, Part Two

for I have said before that you are in our hearts to die together and to live together.

2 Corinthians 7:1-4 "1 Therefore, having these promises, beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from all defilement of flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God. 2 Make room for us in your hearts; we wronged no one, we corrupted no one, we took advantage of no one. 3 I do not speak to condemn you, for I have said before that you are in our hearts to die together and to live together. 4 Great is my confidence in you; great is my boasting on your behalf. I am filled with comfort; I am overflowing with joy in all our affliction."

What does this have to do with marriage?
Plenty.

Who else? Above all other humans, who else? In all relationships in my life, none other should characterize this kind of supercharged dedication more than my relationship with Delighted Husband.

So lemme just say it right here and now: "Baby, you are in my heart to live together and to die together. I choose you above all other humans. We are Allies Till Death."

This is where the sweet abandon in the bedroom comes from. We don't just like each other. We're not just attracted to each other. We don't just tolerate each other. We don't just love each other. We are allies till death. This kind of supercharged dedication is the mattress we rest and play on. This is where nudity becomes the sacred naked. When each touch, every whispered scream, each sensation is an affirmation and celebration of our alliance, that's when God's glory falls all around us, turning our bedroom into a cathedral built for two. -SW

Desire (Un)Defined

I've been following Pro Deo Sum's discussion on whether or not to go to church. And I'm being really challenged by it. On the surface this may not seem to have anything to do with marriage, but it's been my experience that this dynamic has a heckuva lot to do with marriage. To me, marriage is all about taking all the love, joy, energy and goodness you have and pouring it all over each other every day. If you don't have passion for life then it's difficult to have passion for making love. I've found the love of God to be a proven source for renewing my passion for life. But how to experience that love in community? mmm...I have a lot to learn.

My friend Dena was talking about this dynamic and she said, "Now you're asking good questions...! We don't need "weekly fellowship"... we need LIFE, and He is the way, the truth and the LIFE. We need HIM, and part of being in Him, is being His Body (we, in this highly-individualized society we live in barely understand just how much we NEED one another to live this life!). We each need what each and every other believers has to give, which is of Him. They need what we have to give. We need to connect, as often as He leads, in order to experience Body life. We have to yearn for intimacy with one another, to intentionally pursue relationships that are real, connecting, challenging, fufilling, even invasive. Look at the book of Acts -- they met together as often as possible, to do life, not to "have meetings." Ask Him to knit you together with others of His choosing, which will bless your socks off, challenge your very core, and enable you to experience Him in a very tangible way."

This has been on my heart lately. Especially today. The paradox between needing God and needing other people. I understand the bit about not putting your confidence in man. About not making idols out of people and expecting them to be your God.

However, another truth is steadily attempting to grab my attention and that is: that not everybody is called to go live in the relational wilderness like Grizzly Adams saying "I can get whatever I need just me and God".

THis is so hard to understand and even harder to express so bear with me.

This morning I was praying and praying that verse "like the night watchman waits for the dawn, so my soul longs for you O God.". and I was telling the Lord how much I needed him and needed to sense his prescence and love today. (I know theologically he is always there but I need him to give me the grace to recognize it and perceive it to open my eyes like elijah said 'open his eyes lord' and then elisha could see all the hundreds of angels that were already there.) So anyway, I was just crying out to God and then I said "Lord, I don't want to say this cause I don't want to sound immature like I don't get it because I know you're here and I know you're all I need but Lord I just need to confess to you, God I am so dang lonely." and I didn't sense any conviction from the Holy Spirit like I had said something wrong and it felt really good to be honest.

This paradox is intricately linked to DH & my search for a new church home because I am totally rethinking "what do I need?" from God and from people he puts in my life and from a new home church. I mean to find what you're looking for you have to know what you're looking for. KWIM? Like that proverb that says "a desire fulfilled is sweet to the soul" and I would add "a desire undefined is maddening and nigh impossible to fulfill"

One of the key things I know for sure that DH and I need is the chance to offer our hearts to others and have it received. God has done so much in our lives, our marriages and our hearts and it has just become unbearable to offer that to friends at church and have it not received.

It's almost like I need permission from God to ask for this level of intimacy in friendships because it's so rare and I've been told it's immature to ask for this because I should get everything I need from my personal worship time with God. Like I'm selfish if I ask for more. But then I think well we ARE the body of Christ so if we get what we need from Christ then perchance that would involve another human?

and if you can make any sense out of this post then the gift of wisdom and discernment is surely in operation today!

-SW

Portraits of Brave and Holy Sensuousness - John & Stasi

Stasi told this story at the Ransomed Femininity retreat. I'll paraphrase it from memory. I may not get the wording exactly right, but the fact that I can retell this story from memory shows what an impact it had on my heart. -SW

I was shopping for some lingerie for a wedding gift, and I saw this other gown that was a plus-size gown and it was gorgeous. I bought it for myself, and at the time I decided I said to myself, 'now I know I don't look exactly the size I would like to be, but I'm going to offer my beauty to John now, and not wait until some perfect day when I am the perfect size before I offer my beauty.' So I bought the gown, went back to the hotel room, took the gown into the bathroom. And I was nervous. It took some nerve to present myself in this gorgeous see-through nightie. So I was in the bathroom praying 'God give me courage' (retreat ladies laughed) In that moment, I chose to offer my beauty NOW so I put the gown on, and walked out of the bathroom into the hotel room. When I announced myself to John, my statement came out more like a question, 'here I am honnnneeeey.' And that's all I will say about my story except to say that it had a very happy ending." (retreat ladies gave thunderous applause and laughter).
—Stasi Eldredge, Ransomed Femininity Retreat, forerunner to the Captivating Live Retreat

When I first heard this story, hope and desire began to grow in my heart. And I thought, "By golly, I can do that too." So I did. I started offering myself generously and with wispy giftwrap to my husband, deciding that I wouldn't let stretch marks and other souveniers of pregnancy hold me back from being sexy and playful. And that's the story of how my husband became Delighted Husband and I became Sensuous Wife. The beginning of a gorgeous change of heart.

This story makes me say, "You go, girl!" and "God you are so generous but we'll take it anyway."

Talk like this will getcha places!

Husbands, take note. You don't have to be an eloquent man to score. Lemme give you a sensuous shortcut that is sure to please. Block off at least an hour. Let your wife hear you tell the kids that you're putting Mommy down for a nap, and unless the smoke alarm goes off or they are experiencing severe bleeding that you don't want to be interrupted. Close and lock the door. Stand behind your wife and envelop her in your arms. Lean over and whisper in her ear that you want to tell her a bedtime story. Then read her the lyrics to Even Better Than The Real Thing by U2. Play the song for extra credit. I'll let y'all take it from there....
Lemme just say, wow and meow. -SW

The Year of Discipleship

A long time ago, I was given this little plastic business card holder with a bunch of business card sized nice little 'thought for the day' cards. I think they were something about new years resolutions. The cards I threw out years ago. But I kept the business card holder. It was shiny clear lucite and it said The Year of Discipleship in pretty red script.

This Valentine's day, I made love coupons for my honey. I used a business card wizard from a software on my computer to make them all pretty with sensuous text and my pictures with color printing from my computer. So when I was looking for an attractive way to package my love coupons, I remembered that business card holder. Just the right size for my coupons! ;)

I think God smiled, okay laughed for the pure hilarity of this when I gave my husband this darling little package of love coupon cards offering him such earthy delights as "25 kisses not on the mouth", "outdoor adventure", "warm oil massage" or "sexy striptease" all being held in a case that said "The Year of Discipleship". After all, isn't discipleship putting the Bible into action in your life? So we've got a little Song of Solomon discipleship going on at our house. Hubby says "Amen!" -SW

The Beauty Treatment Good Enough to Eat

Exfoliating. It's not a new concept. But I betcha haven't ever exfoliated with something that you could actually eat if you wanted to. It's so easy. Place a half dollar sized dollop of coconut oil in the palm of your hand,

Okay, if you're wondering how in the world you're supposed to dollop a liquid then you prolly haven't heard of coconut oil before. No worries. Coconut oil is discussed all over TMB which is also known as TMI in some circles but I happen to love the place. My favorite kind of coconut oil is Nature's Way EFA Gold Organic. I like it best because it comes in a nice-sized widemouthed plastic jar with an easy-to-grip cap. It's organic so the essential fatty acids are fresh and not rancid, preserving that lovvvvvely coconutty smell. Unlike some organic brands of coconut oil, this brand is consistenly slippery because they do a spendid job of filtering out any pesky bits of coconut that might make the oil feel gritty.

Okay, so you can spend hours investigating and pontificating on coconut oil over at TMB where they'll tell you all kindds of splendid ways to use it, but for now let's get back to our exfoliating recipe. For the sake of time, let's just say that coconut oil is a solid at most room temperatures and becomes a liquid when it melts in your hand.

So, place a half dollar sized dollop of coconut oil in the palm of your hand, and pour in the contents of one sugar packet (you don't really want to keep a jar of sugar and a measuring spoon in your bathroom do you?) Stir it with your index finger until the coconut oil is all melty and you have a nice thick, smooth and scratchy consistency. Now, before you get all gung-ho and apply it to your scratchy elbows or whatever else you want to exfoliate, step into the shower. Trust me on this. Once you're in the shower, massage this delightful smelling goo all over your elbow or your knee or whatever else you want to exfoliate. If you also happen to also need to shave your legs, I recommend you start your coconut sugar exfoliation with one of your legs from knee to ankle. You'll notice at first the sugar granules are verrrry scratchy. Stay calm but be gentle for heaven's sake. You're trying to remove the tiny outer layer of dead skin cells not gouge off a tattoo. After just a few seconds, you'll notice that while the sugar granules haven't lost their scratch, the coconut oil seems to be dissapearing and the skin you are exfoliating is starting to feel verrrrrry sofffft. The oil isn't disappearing, silly, it's soaking into your skin delivering it's lovely payload of essential fatty acids. Okay, you're nearly done. Reach back with one hand into the shower stream (didn't I tell you to turn on the shower before you started? Ooops. Sorry!)Actually, that's okay because if your skin isn't perfectly dry when you first apply the coconut oil sugar mixture it won't work at all. Okay, now where were we? Oh, yeah. Whether from the faucet or the shower, reach into the stream of water and cup a teeny bit of water in the palm of your hand, and apply it to the area you've been exfoliating. After 1 or 3 rubs, you'll feel the sugar granules start to dissolve and the scratchy feeling finally goes away. Great! You're nearly done. Rub for a few more seconds and allow the rest of the coconut oil and melted sugar to baby your skin. It will be very gooey at this point. Now, if you happen to be exfoliating your shin in anticpation of shaving, reach over and grab your razor. Use this thin layer of sugar coconut goo as your shaving cream and shave your legs. Be careful and gentle. Your razor will easily zoom all over your superexfoliated skin. It will prolly be the closest smoothest sweetest smelling shave you've ever had.

Okay, now rinse. Water only no soap. You want to wash away the sticky melted sugar (that stuff could attract ants!) but you want to leave the lurvely essential fatty acids from the coconut oil. Step out of the shower (for heaven sakes be careful and step onto a rug or bathmat!) Now blot gently with a towel. Preferably one of your really soffft towels. You'll notice that your legs feel extrordinarily soffffft and that hair didn't stand a chance, did it? Don't you feel silllky and lovvvvveely? ;)

Wait! Before you reach for that bottle of lotion..the last step after shaving is usually to moisturize your skin with lotion, right? Well, you can skip that moisturizing step, cause you already did that. It's sorta like the life-is-short-so-eat-dessert-first dynamic. Life is short so moisturize first before and during shaving so you don't have to wait till afterward.

So this coconut sugar beauty treatment....It smells verrrrry good. It's fairly inexpensive. It works incredibly well. It's edible. What else could a girl want?

By the way, girls, don't pass up on a major flirting opportunity here. Sidle up to your husband who is doubtless sitting on the couch watching sports with the remote gripped firmly in hand because that is a husband's natural habitat. (But after all the sneaky corporate SOBs the poor dear man has to parry and fight all day long, doesn't he deserve a few minutes of peace?) So go sit on the sofa next to your husband and slowly sensously place one of your legs in his lap. Say to him, "darling, I've just tried a new kind of organic shaving lotion. What do you think?" And place his hand over your leg and then don't. say. a word. Just relax and watch his cursory swipe become a fondle. Good for you and your sweet coconut self! -SW

Touch

I've discovered a lot of joy in making everything I touch a pleasure whenever possible. Even everyday stuff. Case in point: towels.

I stood in the towel aisle in Walmart tonight, choosing towels by texture first and color second. I didn't plan on buying anything. I was actually there just to exchange a set of sheets. But when I felt these extrodinarily sofffft towels, I knew a few of them had to come live in my house. I was lost in linen nirvana when I noticed a Wal-mart employee in the department re-arranging a shower curtain display. "Well hey Mary", I said with a grin to cover my sheepishness, "I'm just standing here petting these towels. I have NEVER felt towels this soft." Mary wasn't fazed by my towel-fondling. "Mmmm-hmm" she said in that matter-of-fact tone that only Southern Black women have, "I know that's right. I just bought me some last night and one lady came in here this morning and bought 18! Girl, if you want 'em, you better get 'em now." It was like saying "sick 'em" to a dog. I immediately obeyed, dropping 2 pair into my basket. I looked at my basket and mentally ran a tab in my head and decided I really didn't need that designer matching Kleenex box cover. After all, how many times am I gonna touch the Kleenex box cover?

It's a simple thing, a towel. But I've adopted the belief that anything that touches my skin should be as soft as possible. Especially my dripping wet, naked-as-the-day-I-was-born skin. My husband is a manly man and would never pick towels like this. He'd pick the rough-and-tough-whatever's-$1.99 towel. But after he climbs out of the shower and mops his dripping wet face with this towel he mutters, "God, these towels are soft!" When I create an environment of tactile pleasure in our master suite, he really enjoys it. And I enjoy seeing him enjoy it. That's not double talk, my friend. That's wifely joy. -SW-

Details...I wanted to include a link in case any of you now have a hankering for these towels. But they're not on walmart.com. So here's the label, girls. HomeTrends Reversible Ultra Soft Bath Towel 100% Low Twist Cotton. If I see a link on Wally in the next few days I'll post it.