In Full Bloom

I want to show y'all how beautifully the flowers are in full bloom. Aren't they lovely?


I want to live like that. I want to live in full bloom, fully showing my beauty, fully showing my glory, fully sharing my joy. I believe we bloom under the touch of someone who loves us. By bloom I mean we become our best selves, we develop into our full gorgeousness. Gorgeous spirit. Gorgeous body. Can't you just see the sparkle in a woman's eye when she knows she's loved? The peace on her face, the serenity?

Can being loved make you look younger? Research says it can.
According to research done by David Weeks, a clinical neuropsychologist at the Royal Edinburgh Hospital, making love 3 times a week in a stress-free relationship can make you look 10 years younger. Dr. Weeks studied more than 3500 men and women between the ages of 18 and 102. In his study, a panel of judges viewed the participants through a one way mirror and then guessed the age of each subject. A group of men and women were labeled 'super young' whose ages were underestimated by 7-12 years. Can you imagine?

I want to be like that, don't you? What choices are you willing to make so that you live in full bloom?
Love,
SW

Five sexy things about me, a meme

The incomparable Kyra over at Last Refuge of the Lonely Housewife has tagged me for a meme. Good timing darlin', it's about time I did a little gratitude attagirl inventory.

Five Sexy Things About Me

1. I feel sexy deep down in my feminine heart The sexiest thing about me is I embrace my feminine heart and believe deep down that it is not a sin to be human sexual being. I'd even go so far as to say my feminine sexual heart is a very good thing. What does my feminine heart look like? My feminine heart knows I am strong yet content to rest in the strength of a man. I am very comfortable letting a man be good at what he does, offer his unique talents, and be himself without my trying to compete with him. I am very secure in my strength and I know that my feminine strength looks and acts and smells and tastes very different than masculine strength. Because I know that I am just as strong but in a different way than a man is strong, I can delight in and savor how delightfully other, delightfully different his masculine strength is from mine. My feminine strength has displayed itself when my man's heart was beat up by the world and I seduced him, drew him in to my softness, affirmed him, loved him reminded him who he was and who his God was. When I was done with him, he didn't know what hit him! But he knew it was very good and sweet and nourishing! Hah! (twinkly eyed victorious smile). Strong, nurturing, seductive, beautiful, and good. That's my heart.
   ~
   
2. My breasts
   I like my body. I have a lot of gratitude for the figure that God and my mama conspired to give me. And yes, they're real. I enjoy my feminine shape, and I have found a happy medium that works for me. I don't hide in my clothes nor are my outfits rock star tight. I have been known to display some festive holiday cleavage at a company Christmas party. If you handle them right (smiling biting lower lip) breasts can give a husband and wife a great deal of pleasure. How do I know? I just know. A word about breasts, take care of them. My mama is a breast cancer survivor and she is alive today because she was and is very proactive about her health. Girls, take care of your girls. I am so proud of the example my mama gave me about embracing and owning your sexuality and making self care a priority when she went through several reconstructive surgeries to restore her feminine shape after cancer. She's as gorgeous as ever and in her own strong way she taught me that life with breasts was preferred to life without breasts. Don't get me wrong, when it comes to cancer, surviving is the priority. But since liking your body is #2 on this list, I believe feeling sexy in your own skin and liking your body is very important. I like the way my breasts look and feel, and I enjoy being a woman. I think the fact that my breasts can look good, feel good and at one time also nourished a child is sexy as allgetout.
   ~
3. My eyes
   Eye contact is one of the sexiest things God ever made, in my humble opinion. Eyes open orgasms are also not to be missed. If you wanna know what I'm talking about, read Passionate Marriage. Being wrapped in an intimate embrace with the sweet light shining in your eyes is one of life's sweetest moments. Sweetness, seduction, joy, sorrow, compassion, eroticism, delight are all there in my eyes on any given day. Sexy? (nodding thoughtfully) Yeah, I think so.
   ~
4. My hands
   I am such a girly-girl and it really shows in my hands. I get my nails done at the salon and the fresh, girly look of a French manicure makes me look and feel very sexy. I also, well, I, that is to say, er, um....my hands are very talented. (cough) (grin) (blush)
   Aaand in other ways. (grin) By cooking a beautiful meal, holding the hand of someone I love, or writing this article, my hands express my sexy feminine spirit to my world.
   ~
5. My generous heart
   I know there are two heart ones on the list, but there are two aspects of the heart that I want to highlight. Whether in the bedroom or the boardroom, in the kitchen or in the living room, I believe generosity is the way to go. It's just my nature to be generous. I don't know how else to describe it except to say there is much pleasure to be found in offering yourself with generosity.
   

Okay darlings. That was time well spent. The last few months have been quite a strain on me and it was important that I remember and affirm some good things about myself. Thank you for indulging me, dear readers, and thank you for affirming me by inviting me, beloved Kyra.

To whom should I pay it forward?
Cori, at My Heart His Heart
Alise, at Big Mama's Blog
Gemma, at Passion Within Marriage
Memes are fun because they help create a sense of community, so let the good folks who read your post know who tagged you for this meme by posting a link and please post a comment here when your post it up. Y'all enjoy!

Feeling the Strain and Getting Back on Track

I'm a real glass is half full kinda gal. It's my nature. I know that gratitude and focusing on the good is a good habit to be in. However, Delighted Husband had an interesting point the other night when he told me he thought perhaps I created a false sense of expectation for you dear readers and us by thinking that DH and I are smokin' the sheets every single time. I was very impressed by Delighted Husband's insight-he's a smart guy and a deep thinker. I've always been very candid about my own story, my own feelings but I've always been very private when it comes to Delighted Husband. I want to respect his privacy. So it's beautiful and interesting and new when he says he wants to give me more freedom to speak more openly about some of our intimate times together that don't quite feel like the 4th of July. Every good beautiful moment that I've blogged about is true and really happened. (boy oh boy did they ever!) but we have our off nights and our misfires and our mixed signals like everyone else. And Delighted Husband tells me he will be wanting me to share about that from time to time. We're shooting for the sweet spot that's good and not perfect, accessible not unattainable.

I'll never blog like Debbie Downer. I don't think I could if I tried. Sex is too beautiful. But there's something to be said for balance, and grace and flexibility. We are human after all. Like all humans, stress affects us. We can learn good coping skills for stress, frankly I think lovemaking is a wonderful coping skill for stress. Whether it's tender or aggressive, lovemaking the bonding the connecting, the endorphins the pleasure the release can all add up to TREMENDOUS stress relief.

But what if the lovemaking doesn't work? What if you're "us" doesn't work? Oh My God the stress that can cause. Somewhere in month two of our house being in dissarray and in various stages of repair and construction, the stress of Delighted Husband's demanding job and long commute, the stress of my long working hours building the store, wanting to offer my best for the sensuouswife.com team, talking to vendors for the store, managing the reconstruction project for our home, giving good effort to self-care at the gym, continuing to eat sober and not use food to stuff my feelings which means there are these emotions to deal with and mannnn are they damned inconvenient! and next thing you know, I'm a grouchypants and everything Delighted Husband does in the simple foibles of life gets on my last nerve, and everything I do in my simple human foibles gets on his last nerve and there are kids who need us and their life is topsy turvy too with the house all under construction and next thing you know, we've got two people who love each other and desperately need to get laid and who unfortunately are very pissed off with each other in the present moment. Lord have mercy Jesus!

So what did we do? We hauled our angry asses off to counseling and we duked it out with kleenex and talking. And we made love every chance we got. And it did not always go so well. When the emotional climate between Delighted Husband and me is good, it is very easy for me to get aroused. When the emotional climate between us is "off", he can touch me in the usual favorite ways and I don't feel the same feelings..the same emotions or sensations. If I feel awkward in my heart, I feel awkward in my body. And I think he does too.

Here's the thing that I often remember and when I do not I wish to JesusGodAlmighty that I had:
When that fine line is crossed and discussing and disagreeing becomes heated arguments and two heartsore people trying to make their point, the beautiful erotic climate is gone. Heated arguments hurl words and angst like throwing rocks. It's like a greenhouse whose glass pane is broken by a rock and all the lovely warm moist air rushes out and it's cold and dry inside and the delicate breathtakingly gorgeous blossoms and the tender green shoots inside start to wither. I love that symbolic image of orgasms and sex being blooming plants inside a greenhouse being the intimate climate of a marriage, because orchids grow in a greenhouse and we all know what orchids look like, don't we? (grin) Seriously y'all, the erotic intimate climate of your marriage must be protected, or you'll lose some delicate gorgeous glorious pleasure and oneness and joy and it will take a while to get it back. How long it takes is up to the two of you, but it will take a while.

Luckily, there's grace.

Grace came for me in the form of my dear dear friends who let me come unraveled in front of them and gave me a soft place to land. I called my friend that lives overseas on skype, buried my face in my hands and just sobbed. Every few seconds, they would reassure me "Oh love, everything will turn out all right."

Grace came for me with a handful of girlfriends that I could share honestly with and tell them the prolonged stress we'd been under had affected Delighted Husband's and my sex life. Not that I shared TMI, but golly moses, some friends would consider just the last few sentences TMI. But not these girls. These dear women. They told me, "So you're human, so what?" and hugged me and prayed for us.

Grace came for me when I was picking up clutter and tidying our bedroom, I was literally on my knees making the bed when a book on the book shelf in my nightstand literally fell off the shelf, to the floor and fell in front of my knees. It was my 9 year old dog-eared copy of The Power of a Praying Wife. I may not be a rocket scientist, but I knew this was God talking to me, so I stayed on my knees, grabbed hold of the book, and knelt at my bed in prayer. Being me, and considering what was bothering us, I flipped to the chapter on His Sexuality, and I prayed this prayer:
"Lord, bless my husband's sexuality and make it an area of great fulfillment for him. Restore what needs to be restored, balance what needs to be balanced. Protect us from apathy, dissapointment, criticism, busyness, unforgiveness, deadness, or disinterest. I pray we make time for one another, communicate our true feelings openly, and remain sensitive to what each other needs. Keep us sexually pure in mind and body, and close the door to anything lustful or illicit that seeks to encroach upon us. Deliver us from the bondage of past mistakes. Remove from our midst the effect of any sexual experience—in thought or deed—that happened outside our relationship. Take away anyone or anything from our lives that would inspire temptation to infidelity. Help us to "abstain from sexual immorality" so that each of us will know "how to possess his own vessel in sanctification and honor" (1Thessalonians 4:3-5) I pray we will desire each other and no one else. Show me how to make myself attractive and desirable to him and to be the kind of partner he needs. I pray that neither of us will ever be tempted to think about seeking fulfillment elsewhere. I realize an important part of my ministry to my husband is sexual. Help me to never use it as a weapon or a means of manipulation by giving and withholding it for selfish reasons. I commit this area of our lives to you, Lord. May it continually be new and alive. Make it all you created it to be."

And I started to feel a tiny spark of hope in my heart. I remembered the condition of my heart nine years ago when I first prayed that prayer and I took inventory in my mind of all the good things that had come from that since then. I thought, "heck I should just pray all the prayers in this book", so I flipped to the beginning chapter "His Wife". That's when I got a real shellacking because wow was I convicted of my sulky attitude! Get a load of this excerpt from the Chapter His Wife:
"I Don't Even Like Him How Can I Pray for Him? If you are angry at your husband, tell God. Don't let it become a cancer that grows with each passing day. Instead say, "Lord, nothing in me wants to pray for this man. I confess my anger, hurt, unforgiveness, disappointment, resentment and hardness of heart toward him. Forgive me and create in me a clean heart and right spirit before You. Give me a new positive joyful loving forgiving attitude toward him. Where he has erred, reveal that to him and convict his heart about it. Lead him through the paths of repentance and deliverance. Help me not to hold myself apart from him emotionally, mentally or physically because of unforgiveness. Where either of us needs to ask forgiveness of the other, help us to do so. If there is something I'm not seeing that is adding to this problem, reveal it to me and help me to understand it. Remove any wedge of confusion that has created misunderstanding or miscommunication. Where there is behavior that needs to change in either of us, I pray you would enable that change to happen. As much as I want to hang onto my anger toward him and as much as I feel it is justified, I want to do what You want. I release all those feelings to You. Give me a renewed sense of love for him and words to heal this situation."
Whoa Nelly. I have to tell you, folks, I felt peace after I prayed that prayer. I felt drained of the poison inside me. I felt hope. I felt like it could and would get better between us. I love him so much, always have, but for a few days there we were like two porcupines trying to get warm. We wanted cuddles and we kept getting and giving ouchies instead. It was awful.

So, once I got the toxic sludge out of my heart, all kindsa good things happened. My girls kept on praying and lemme tell you what happened next.

My office is in an alcove of the living room, so I get to work close to the fireplace. And as I've told y'all before, every year when it's cold enough to switch on the furnace, I move the Zepplin pillow downstairs in front of the fireplace. So Delighted Husband was lounging on the Zepplin pillow enjoying the fireplace while I was working at my desk. He looked so sweet and relaxed and handsome, and my heart just lurched in my chest and I felt tenderness towards him. I stood up from my desk, and walked over to him and knelt down and straddled him, lay my arms on either side of his body reaching up to hug him and I lay my head on his stomach and just let myself be. We felt so peaceful and calm. The atmosphere of safety and good connection perfumed the air around us. The warm humid healing air was filling up our greenhouse. The warmth of the sun was shining on our wintry cold greenhouse. It felt so good. Nothing erotic at this point. Just love and healing connection. Delighted Husband started murmuring and petting my hair with his hands. The feeling his of his palm wrapped around my head cradling me with his palm like a baby just melted my heart like buttah. I felt so truly safe for the first time in days. ohmyGod.

After a few minutes, Delighted Husband got up from the Zepplin and went upstairs to tuck the DC in bed. I laid there relaxing and feeling safe. I was feeling safe and good and normal but zero horny at this point. Zee-roh. I know this might sound spooky, but sometimes I feel God talking to me in my heart. And I felt this tug on my heart to take off my jogbra. I figured listening to that still small voice has given me only good so far, so I stripped off my bra and just lay there relaxing. I began to anticipate and wait for the sounds of Delighted Husband's footsteps coming down the stairs. I felt eager. I felt eager to surprise him. I felt eager to see his delight on his face. I did not at this point feel horny or overt sexual desire. I was just eager to see what good thing would come from following that still small voice in my heart. Sure enough, Delighted Husband came down the stairs, walked into our bedroom, and not finding me there, he walked into the living room. He took one look at me sprawled on the Zepplin pillow wearing nothing but running tights and a sneaky smile spread over his face. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Waiting for you." I replied.

In 2 seconds, Delighted Husband shucked off his clothes. I lost the running tights.

Grace came for us in the form of a shagfest that relieved us body and soul. I experienced firsthand that Dr. David Schnarch is right when he says that once the initial conflict is resolved properly, sex can be a verry healthy way to rid yourself of aggression. Oh my God, is he right. I came to my belief that night.
In the midst of our glorious rowdyness, I distinctly remember thinking:

I'm.
so.
glad.
they're.
praying.
it's.
worrrrrking!

I won't tell you what I said after that~I'll let Neil have the last word.

Keep the Home Fires Burnin'

I'm really glad we have our Zepplin pillow in front of the fireplace. I'm just sayin'. (smile)

Orgasms are great for pain relief

I sprained my ankle last Friday, on the very day we were preparing to go out of town to a conference/family getaway on Labor Day weekend. Delighted Husband hadn't been home ten minutes when he asked with concern how my ankle was feeling, I gave him a mischievous grin and said, "You know honey, orgasms are good for pain relief". And they were! By lifting my pelvis up with our Liberator wedge, it was easy to keep my knees and ankles up out of the way. By the time we were done, I forgot I even HAD an ankle. Much less a sprained one.

When I talk about our slogan "promoting pleasure for wives and the husbands who love them", sometimes people assume it's all about wild nights hanging from the chandelier. While special amazing nights and afternoons do happen, I think it's more important to redeem almost-missed opportunities when headaches or sprained ankles could keep you from having great sex, but they don't.

I had forgotten about this story even though it only happened a week ago. (What can I say? Sometimes I have a short attention span!) But I was reminded of this lovely pain-relieving event when my friend Shannon shared her story on Facebook talking about how an orgasm with her husband made her headache go away. She asked if anyone had had a similar experience, and I thought with a grin, "Yeah, I have!" so I shared my story. Sometimes we need to be reminded of our own good stories. Sometimes we need the spark of an idea to remind us to reclaim good things that have been brought into our lives and to remember them with gratitude. In our often crazy, bumpy road world, it's so important to cling to what is good and to smile at a happy memory. So often, a friend helps me do this.

I'm so thankful for community. There is this marvelous dynamic of 1+1=3 when we share our hearts with another. Yesterday, I prayed about a situation nearly all day and the big turnaround came when I called my girlfriends and prayed together. Today as I read my friend Shannon share her story, it brought to mind stories of my own that I needed to be reminded of. Yes we have to own our own heart and take care of it. Some personal choices mean the world to us. Yet, as the same time, when listening to other people share their story evokes something in our own heart, they are influencing us for greater good. I've been noticing this dynamic a lot lately. Sending out my love and thanks to Cristin and Sue and Shannon. The way you offered your heart yesterday made me a better woman.
Mwah!
Shula

Would you like to have an orgasm? Well DUH!

Duh is what it sounds like.
DHA is what it's spelled like.
Ooooooh! is what it feels like.

Who knew that taking fish oil capsules would make you feel so good?
Golly Moses.
(Mona Lisa smile that morphs into mischivious grin)

The quickest way to a woman's heart

One night this summer, Delighted Husband and I were tired and achy after taking the kids on a 4 mile hike. We very much wanted to be together but we had to laugh at ourselves laying still and holding hands and groaning with pain. "What a hot couple we are" as we laughed at ourselves. We were still naked and smiling at each other so that was a start. Delighted Husband has access to all these cool overseas radio stations on his phone, so he was scrolling through some stations and he found a really great classical station broadcasting from London. The classical music was beautiful and rich and still and didn't require us to move. (you know what I mean by that. some music just makes you want to dance. you just try to be still while listening to Ladysmith Black Mambazo!)

We were cuddling and talking about the children. We had planned to have a shagfest much earlier in the evening, but something the DC said set off a little beep beep beep in my heart letting me know they needed some quality time and connection with their dad and me. I knew instinctively that the best way to get them to connect verbally was to get them away from any and all electronic conveniences so I drove us all to one of our favorite nature trails. There's nothing like a long trail with nothing but the sound of wind whispering in the trees to get a kid to talking. Sweating helps too. Something about physical labor gets you talking honest and from the heart, and we were hiking at a steady clip!

I hung back for a while, watching my husband interact with the children. God, I love that man. I wasn't eavesdropping exactly, but I think for a while they forgot I was there.

It was this memory that came to mind as I cuddled with Delighted Husband listening to Rachmaninoff that night. I told him, as I have told him a thousand times, that seeing him share from his heart with the children, offering him manly heart in a fatherly way I could never imitate just sets off a little joy alarm deep inside my body. Every cell in my body says, "Girl! This is the one! Get this man to get you pregnant asap!" I told him and we laughed gently. My body can no longer get pregnant. But apparently places in my heart and my loins never got the memo, cause they keep on tryin!

I rolled over on top of him and he grinned hello. And after just a few seconds of fondling, I was aroused and ready to move. The soft candlelight on the dresser cast a lovely shadow of my hips as I moved over him gently. As passion is known to do, momentum picked up. Orgasmic steam built up and blew. And I rolled over collapsing in an exhausted tangle of limbs. Good man that he is, he moved enough for the both of us for his turn and came home to me quickly. We both submerged into sleep and next thing we knew the alarm clock was ringing.

Apparently one of the quickest ways to a woman's heart is her children. And definitely the quickest way to my loins is my heart! ;)
He knows all the shortcuts, my Delighted Husband.

Beauty That Nourishes

Fatigue is a powerful force and it takes something equally powerful to counteract it.
Beauty.
Delighted Husband and I have been working some long hours at our respective jobs. Both of us feeling a fatigue of unusual intensity. Fatigue is more than sleepyness or the sense of needing to sit down and catch your breath after an intense game of basketball. Fatigue is a bonewearyness of body and soul. This is what we're dealing with.

We arrive home and after sending one last important email I step away from the computer and walk with him toward the bedroom. We cuddle and he tells me about his day. About the stresses and strains of daily work life. I listen and blurt out sympathy and indignation. Our companionship is sweet. Two best friends sharing the victories and griefs of the day. Suddenly, he rolls on top of me. I blink in surprise. Then smile at what he says next. Then smile at what he does next.

Companionship, love, marital play all satisfied, hunger is the next need in line. He heads for the kitchen to make himself a bowl of cereal. That is one of the most adorable things about him I think—how Delighted Husband is pushing forty and still enjoys a bowl of colorful cereal with the unabashed gusto of a little boy. I prefer more substantial fare, and find the thought of sugary cereal on an empty stomach deplorable.

I doze and luxuriate until my stomach starts to growl. I close my eyes and remember waffles. I remember when my Daddy used to cook on the nights my Mama had to work late at her floral shop. That's right. I get the business owner bug honest. And her store was there to offer beauty and joy to women as well. What a heritage. So on nights Mama was working late into the night like Santa's elves to bouquet-ify an entire wedding party, Daddy would make waffles. Waffles. I hadn't had waffles in years.

I ambled into the kitchen, nearly stood on my head in front of the island cabinet, and dug out the waffle iron. While it was heating, I opened a box of whole wheat bisquicky stuff and whipped up a batch of waffle batter. I'm pushin' forty myself and my waffles are more carb-healthy than Daddy's but the thought still counts. I anoint my waffle with real butter and maple syrup—not even sugarfree stuff, the real McCoy—and take a bite. I swallow and sigh and think "God bless us all every one." I listen to my audiobook and savor the waffley bliss. By this time, Delighted Husband is in the gameroom playing Wii. The chirpy happy music and roaring car engine noise tells me he is off to the races with Mario Kart.

Having savored my waffle, I want something lush from the protein category. I know just the ticket. I whip up a batch of eggs the way Friend Dennis makes them. Spicy and seasoned just right with mushrooms and cheese. I remember the first time he cooked these eggs for us on the first morning of one of the vacations Friend Dennis and his Dearly Beloved took with me and Delighted Husband. I remember how special it was to have someone cook for me. Me the one who loves to cook being cooked for and how cared-for that made me feel.

And I feel cared-for all over again. Remembering the meals my Daddy and my friend cooked for me, I feel it and taste it all over again, and I feel nourished body and soul.

Such simple pleasures. Such beauty. And I experience the wonder of feeling nourished and satisfied instead of hungry and fatigued. Simple things will get you through, my friends. Simple rest. Simple play. Simple food. Simple love. Wow, do I feel better.

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.

Our Bodies Matter to Jesus

As some of you may imagine, one of the most frequent search engine terms that bring readers to my blog is the "sensuous"+"posted in blog". I clicked on this search this morning, and found a daisy chain of beautiful thoughts which I will share with you today.

The first link that caught my eye was "God's Sensuous Prescence". Y'all know, I am all about God and all about sensuous, so of course I was curious. This beautiful article is what I found:

"Men had turned from the contemplation of God above, and were looking Him in the opposite direction, down among created things and things of sense. The Saviour of us all, the Word of God, in His great love took to Himself a body and moved as Man among men, meeting their senses, so to speak, half way. He became Himself an object for the senses, so that those who were seeking God in sensible things might apprehend the Father through the works which He, the Word of God, did in the body."

At first glance this sounded at once beautiful and potentially sacreligious. Because when my woman-who-was-sexually-abused brain hears the words "an object for the senses", I recoil. But there was that beautiful phrase "in His great love took to Himself a body" and I believe that lock, stock and barrell, so I deliberately let go of my CSA thoughts and took another closer look. And what I saw astounded me with it's beauty.

I visualized my beloved Jesus extending his hand to Thomas, such a human loving inclusive gesture all by itself, and then he speaks "don't believe it's really me? Touch me. it's me, Thomas. Touch me, and remember all the many other times you touched my hand and were comforted. It's me. really. Touch me, and believe."

Of course, by then, poignant tears had gathered in my eyes and I was on board with the phrase "He became Himself an object for the senses." Oh yes he did. And there's my favorite name for Jesus too, Himself. A gift with purchase. Confirmation.

I wanted to hear more, so I clicked on the link provided by the blog author Eric Daryl Meyer (shown here with he and his wife. look at them! aren't they precious?)

This took me to Faith and Theology, a guest post by Oliver Davies. And what a treasure trove I found there!

Get a load of this!

"We constantly treat Christianity as though it were a philosophy or a work of literature (I am not against philosophy or literature) rather than a disclosure to practical intellect which calls us into the radical freedom of action in and for Christ in the world (i.e. the ascended, wounded and glorified Christ). Faith is faith in Christ who acts rather than thinks."

Seriously, y'all. I don't wanna just be smarter. I wanna be CHANGED.

Wait, there's more.

Instead of allowing ourselves to be opened up to the revelation of Christ in the world, communicated through command at work through the senses and the particularity of space and time events ("the command of grace", in Janz's phrase), we focus on the mind as the place of insight, generativity and meaning.

I'll tell you what this means to me. All my life, up until the point of my spiritual and sexual awakening, I thought it was true "Spirit good, mind good, body bad." I really did. As hard to believe as these words sound now, coming from from a woman who experiences God in every orgasm and feels the sweet nearness of the Spirit in every cool breeze on my sweaty face when I run, I used to really believe that. The condition of my heart, the condition of my marriage, the quality of how despised or cherished my sexuality was to me is a living lab test of what those ideas look like in behavior. When I believed my body was bad and my mind was good, I shrank from every touch from my husband and generally rolled my eyes at the depravity of man every time he got an erection. I'm not proud to admit it, but that was my reality. Oh but I was a good Christian girl who "selflessly ministered to her husband" by laying there and taking it. What a martyr! Not even good enough to be called a real martyr either, like Jim Elliot or the first disciple to be stoned to death, because I was laying down and dying for a cause that was contrary to scripture and so FAR from the life of joy God had called me to! What a senseless wasteful non-God-honoring martyr.

But you know my Jesus, he loves us just as we are and loves us too much to leave us that way. Read on.

"And here the third problem arises which follows from the first two: we have lost an understanding of the way we can and should access and be attentive to the presence of Christ in this way. We constantly bypass with mind the very place in which he is present for us in the here and now, which is to do with the senses and with command, since this is a place where the mind does not necessarily want to go."

Yes! Yes! Yes! I used to do that all the time, and folks, I'll tell you why. Because of my own sin and the sin of others, my senses were associated for me with sensations of pain, emotions of pain, shame, doubt, fear, self-loathing and just an overall sense of "ugh get me outta here". Maybe some of you can relate.

But here's the good part. Jesus still lives. And His Lordship in the nitty gritty details of our lives is the way we are to live not just as prescription (take 2 pills and call me in the morning) but as invitation. Invitation to the path to healing we are walk (come walk with me this way my darling and let me heal you, my love). That's my paraphrase and I paraphrase it that way because I have lived it that way. This is the path I've been walking for 16 years.

Oliver Davies puts it this way:

"Getting it" entails seeing that incarnational revelation still comes to us through the senses ("Jesus still lives, and his Lordship in the particularity of our lives is the mode for us of that life"), and that the senses cannot be absorbed without remainder into mind. Thus ascension allows that our faith in Christ can be far closer to that of the apostles than we might ordinarily admit, not on our own account, but on account of the nature of the transformation effected in Christ. Doctrinally (theologically) and anthropologically (philosophically) we have lost the tools and practices which help us to "recognise" him in his transformed state in the everyday reality of our lives where he comes to meet us.

As so often happens in my reading since the internet, I connected the dots between three unrelated poets and writers that from my point of view seem tailor made for each other. On one hand we have these brilliant intellectuals—theology professor no less!— saying in essence, "Excuse me, everybody. Something precious has been lost. And I'm going to do my darndest to show you what and how and show you why and more importantly, show you how to get it back."

For as I read the scholarly article, I remembered the last time—the only time—I've heard a scholar talk about these ideas. It was when I heard Christopher West speak about Theology of the Body at a Created and Redeemed Seminar. I remember Christopher's main point being "Jesus had a real body and our bodies are important because God Almighty thought to inhabit one so we should believe our body is important too and inhabit it well and with truth and honor." That is my paraphrase after attending the 7 hour seminar. (By the way, I do not believe that using birth control violates this cherished concept, since I believe any lovemaking between a husband and wife has the fruit of pleasure and oneness if not the fruit of children) So first as I'm reading, I'm reminded of Theology of the Body.

And then, I'm reminded of the song I sang in church last week. The song that so grounded me and comforted me by reminding me that every area of my life matters to God and is inhabited by God. The song that gave me opportunity to respond to this newfound hope and comfort by pouring our my adoration upon Jesus, or as we say in the South, "singin' my little heart out". Listen to this!

God in my living
There in my breathing
God in my waking
God in my sleeping

God in my resting
there in my working
God in my thinking
God in my speaking

be my everything
be my everything
be my everything

God in my hoping
there in my dreaming
God in my watching
God in my waiting

God in my laughing
there in my breathing
God in my hurting
God in my healing

be my everything
be my everything
be my everything
be my everything

Christ in me
Christ in me
Christ in me
the hope of glory
you are everything

Christ in me
Christ in me
Christ in me
the hope of glory
be my everything

be my everything
be my everything
be my everything

be my everything
be my everything
be my everything

God in my hoping
there in my dreaming
God in my watching
God in my waiting

God in my laughing
there in my breathing
God in my hurting
God in my healing

be my everything
be my everything
be my everything
you are everything

So yes, beloved friends, our bodies matter. They matter to Jesus too, as he—by living in us—inhabits our bodies every single day. And everything we do in these bodies matters very VERY much! If it's sin that we're doing with our bodies—slapping our children, abandoning our husbands in the marriage bed, or using drugs or food or the absence of food to numb our aching hearts— we need grace and healing to get to the root of that sin and let Jesus heal us. And if it's not sin that we're doing with our bodies—laying our cool hand on our child's fevered brow, welcoming our husbands and drawing them into our body with passion and tenderness, or caring for and cherishing our bodies in beautiful small ways like eating with gratitude in an attitude of self-care—then we are in the acts of doing these very things, bringing the hands and love of Christ into our world, which is a humbling, immensely gorgeous thing to think about.

Isn't it?

Love,
SW

Epilogue:
Parenting
Once in the course of my life as a mother I lost my temper and slapped one of my children. It was listed as a sin in the article and also listed as a sin I am living in active repentance of. I don't refuse my husband anymore or do emotional eating anymore either. I don't believe there's a mother alive that hasn't lost her temper and slapped her child once or been sorely tempted to do so. But my experience of losing my temper like that disturbed me enough that I took myself to a licensed marriage and family therapist and learned some better parenting strategies. I also took my child to a child therapist and got some treatment for them and we're all doing much better on that regard. The licensed marriage and family therapist who treated me counseled me that my unresolved guilt over slapping my child that one time was far harmful to my effectiveness as a parent than the slap itself because that guilt gave me a propensity to cave into their demands and not keep firm loving boundaries. I hope any parent who reads my story will not hesitate to seek wise counsel for their parenting challenges.

Singles
I want to cherish my single readers by saying that there are many beautiful ways use use our bodies to bring the hands and love of Christ into our world, many many more than the 3 ways I listed. The reason that drove what I listed as ways to bring love is that I began with listing 3 ways I personally used my body to sin and 3 ways I used my body to repent and to love. You're not excluded, beloved darlings, or exempt from embodying the love of Christ just because you are not a wife or mommy. Never meant to imply that, beloved. Not in a hundred years did I mean to imply that. (squeeze your hand and look you in the eye for good measure) Love, SW

G-spot Giggles

Something happened in an interesting discussion today that gave me the giggles. A husband on TMB was lamenting the fact that he cannot seem to find his wife's g-spot. I was trying to convey the information without being too graphic, so I told him, "For many women the gspot isn't tangible until she has at least 1 clitoral O. Like a diva who doesn't show up till the second act. " Well, I think I got my point across without being too sexually graphic.

I'm a very visual person and I like Opera, so I imagined an opera stage and a gorgeous red dress diva waiting in the wings. The leading man sings to her "Come out and play, Lady G" and she shakes her head emphatically, tosses her hair and says, "I am the diva. I will not sing until the chorus has sung. I am no opening act, I am the headliner!"

(commence fit of giggles)

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.

Why do we cry when we come?

Why do we cry?
Why do we cry when we come? Not every time, perhaps, but why do we sob in those gasping tender moments just after?

It is because we have desired and desired and desired and desired hoping with a fierce burning white hot longing and then….we were not disappointed!to the relief of the soul!

Our soul so profoundly relieved to have displayed our desire so vulnerably and having our desire not abandoned or left to go hungry, but instead having our desire met with recognition and eager urgent nurture.

Our soul’s profound relief when our lover offers us themself unhurried yet urgent, unaware of time but completely absorbed in the tenuous interplay of desire and pleasure, pleasure and desire, asked and answered.

What relief of the soul can be found in the embrace of a lover who wants nothing more than to watch our pleasure unfold, shiver by delicious whimpering shiver.

And then we want and want and want and want our lover’s glorious urgency to keep going for we will surely die if they stop.

And then the exultant cry as we are surprised by a joy we intently, secretly, then openly longed for but we really only hoped existed.

(another excerpt from Erotic Mystic: Musings on God and Sex)

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.

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

Scheduled Sex and Being Too Tired

I'm learning that saving time to be together is important and that you don't have to feel energetic and horny before you walk in the bedroom in order to have a beautiful pleasurable evening. Some of you have known this for years. For me, it's big news.

I knew Delighted Husband and I had saved this evening for each other. And on evenings we plan to be together, I usually save some mental and physical energy for him and deliberately think carnal thoughts all day in anticipation. But I didn't this last time. I had a good but busy day at work, had an emotionally uplifting lunch with my girlfriends, and had a challenging couple of hours helping the DC with their homework and coaching them through several tudes. By the end of the two hours, I felt wrung out like a sponge. I went to DH and said "I need skin to skin for a few minutes. I"m worn out." He was quick to oblige, as he had heard me calmly standing my ground with the children who were trying to turn "bitch moan and argue with mom" into an Olympic sport.

We locked ourselves in our room and quickly got naked for some cuddles. I sighed with comfort and pleasure as I nestled into his arms. "Remind me" I asked. And so he did. Delighted Husband gave me two or three sentences reminding me good things about myself. Words of affirmation and physical touch together are a powerful combination. I began to feel myself recharge, like a dead cell phone on a charger lighting up again. We cuddled and caressed each other and without trying, words spilled out of my mouth, complimenting him and loving on him. Reminding him what a wonderful man he was. Which took absolutely no effort to come up with affirming words considering how loving he had just shown himself to be.

This wasn't steamy talk by any means. Our skin-to-skin contact was for bonding and affirmation, not arousing. It was the "sharing your heart's life force" definition of Eros, not the "tingly thrilling do me" definition of Eros. Our fifteen minutes passed quickly and the doorbell ringing with the first trick or treaters told us our time was up.

I went to get dinner going and DH took over door duty with the trick or treaters.

Dinner was yummy and punctuated by doorbell ringing every few minutes. It was fun to chat with the neighbors, although difficult to eat between visitors, but what do we expect?

Finally got the DC tucked in after their sugar rush, and DH and I knew our "date" time had arrived. We were both tired and achy, but wanted to be together. Both of us said something to this effect while we were standing in the kitchen. We decided to go for it and see what God might do for us.

Walking in our bedroom and locking the door was an act of faith. We had zero tingly erotic urgency. Our muscles were tired and achy. But we felt emotionally connected and a desire to make the most of the opportunity. After all, we were in our bedroom at 9pm with kids already tucked in their own beds. Just watching TV or going to sleep would feel like we squandered an opportunity.

I suggested a massage and spread the liberator throe over the comforter to keep massage oil off the bed. After joking over whose turn it would be first, I laid down on my back with my knees supported by the liberator whirl. This is where the first of many miracles happened. It didn't take five minutes of smelling him and feeling him touch me that I was very aroused. As our arousal became more visible, we kept joking, "I'm too tired" "Oh me too. I'm way too tired." That position actually did become tiring for Delighted Husband so we switched so he could lie down with the whirl under his knees. I became the active pleasurer which I enjoyed very much. DH let me know how much pleasure he was receiving which of course made my heart feel that good feeling you get inside when you know somebody is enjoying the gift you gave them. It was also a huge turn-on. We warmed to the task. Delighted Husband became the active pleasurer again, while I rocked happily. He asked me to hand him a certain toy while he told me what he was about to do to me and how he knew I was going to respond. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy. Gazing into his eyes, I came in about 6 seconds, which surprized the heck out of both of us. How'd we do that? We're too tired!

After I caught my breath, we switched to our favorite finish position. Delighted Husband positioned me the way he wanted me, which is such a small simple thing, but I love that because it demonstrates our being relaxed and comfortable and his matter-of-fact intent to take me which is just such an emotional rush. I have no idea how long we made love because time stood still. Smiling into his eyes while watching my husband come is one of the sweetest spiritual and emotional experiences I've ever had. He is magnificent.

Once we came back down to earth, told each other it was time for a quick shower and then sleep, cause we really were tired. Shower was shared and quick with much grinning at each other. I happened to glance at the clock on my way back to bed from the shower. It was 9:30!

"Oh My God! Honey, look, soup to nuts this whole lovemaking was 30 minutes! Can you believe it?" To say we both thanked God would be putting it mildly. I thank God for the toy and pillows that helped us coax pleasure out of an evening when the spirit was willing but the flesh was weak. I suspect that the DHA and EPA supplements I took for the last few days may have had something to do with my quick response. (I'm on The Orgasmic Diet which is another article). Most of all, I believe miracles still happen. Even in the marriage bed. I blame this miracle on our generous loving God rewarding our small act of faith of locking the door even though we were too tired. -SW

Sex as an act of worship

It's so cool how someone else's sharing can call forth something you want to share. I read a post on this subject over at Spiritual Sensuality and immediately my words and thoughts spilled eagerly onto the page. I didn't have to bite my lip or squinch up my eyebrows and trytocomeupwithsomething. It was just there, waiting to be said. So thank you, Lydia.

This is a concept very near and dear to my heart. I've been writing about this topic for years as I've spent the last fifteen years surrendering to Jesus and letting him heal me from sexual abuse and all kinds of junk. After fifteen years I finally have the courage to believe that all this journaling I've shared up till now only with God, my therapist, my husband and spiritual director that I could be unshamed and confident enough to share with other people. (smile) that's you! :)

So all this journaling on sex and worship is shaping into a devotional book titled Erotic Mystic: Musings on God and Sex. When you look at this topic from the perspective of an "old married lady" LOL who's been making love to the same man for ten years, this subject is common to nearly everyone. Why do you think most of us cry out the word "OH MY GOD" at the point of orgasm? It's because in the face of something so beautifully overwhelming we reach for God. To anchor us in the midst of such dizzying pleasure and to receive our thanks. I believe that crying out to God from the depth of our being is worship.

There is more to this subject than that-(I seem to think so anyway cause I've been wrestling with or celebrating the subject for 15 years)-but I thought the OMG cry at climax shows what a common human experience sex and worship often is. -SW