Cracked Heart

I have an unusual attachment to coffee mugs. There was one particular mug, which after years of daily use, my adored mug cracked. It felt like a crack in my heart. I set out on a hunt for a replacement mug, but to no avail. Discouraged, I put a plea on Facebook to see if maybe, just maybe, someone I knew had this mug in their garage or wherever.

Remarkably, one of my friends saw the post, found the mug on some online site, ordered it, and had it shipped to me.

Whatever crack was left in my heart was now filled up with love abundant.

I told you I had an unusual attachment.

Moving forward to today, another mug has filled my heart with endearing feelings. I don’t know what it is about mugs. Perhaps the warm fuzzy feelings I have while I use these mugs transcends to future use and an attachment forms. Like a new connection with a friend or a fantastic date night with hubby—I don’t know, I guess I’m strange.

Well, a new connection formed with a mug I picked up at a conference. It quickly soared to the status of an endeared pet or cherished friend.

Yesterday, it broke.

My husband broke it.

Not on purpose mind you, it was a complete accident. He was cleaning up in the kitchen and somehow my mug got in the way and ended up as a casualty.

I heard the sound of a cup breaking and I asked, “Was that a mug?”

“Yes.”

“Was it the one with the love saying on it?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, honey, I know you really liked that one.”

I said, “It’s okay, I know it was an accident.” But my face said otherwise. And he noticed. I couldn’t hide it.

My heart got a crack in it.

I wanted to yell, HOW COULD YOU BREAK MY MUG? I DON’T JUST LIKE THAT MUG, I LOVE THAT MUG! But I didn’t, I just kept saying, “It’s okay, I know it was an accident.”

I kept saying, “It’s okay, I know it was an accident” until my heart believed it.

And here’s the thing:

How many husbands help in the kitchen? Well, mine does! And he helps a lot.

In the end, I can critique how he does things or I can thank him and be grateful. I’ll take the latter. And yelling? Never an option, not as long as I want him to continue to share kitchen duties. Not to mention him desiring to stay married to me. Funny how yelling can put a kibosh on happily-ever-after, huh?

But I do need to work on the face thing.

Here’s one take away from my story:

In marriage we hurt each other. It’s just happens. He can say something and we feel a sting. She might forget to take care of something promised and a pang tangs. He might get frustrated and impatient and short. She might freak out over something seemingly silly.

But what if, no matter how deep the hurt, we said to ourselves, “It’s okay, I know it was an accident,” and we kept saying it until our heart believed it?

An accident? you might say. They were careless. They were insensitive. They were belligerent.

It may very well feel like this…

However, if we know they have our best interest in mind, we can trust they didn’t purposefully take a jab at our heart. No loving spouse wakes in the morning and plots how they can emotionally wound their beloved.

Do you trust that they love you?

Do you know they are committed to you?

Do you remember the vows they made to you?

Yes, even accidents hurt, but if we know it was just that, an accident, we can endure the sting of the hurt so much smoother. It’s giving our loved one the benefit of the doubt. It’s thinking well of them and knowing we can trust their love for us. It’s the willingness to see all words and actions through the filter of love.

Love well, my friend!

Fondly,

Lu

For more marriage tips order a copy of “From Me to We” or “The Intimacy You Crave” by Lucille Williams. Subscribe to LuSays today for weekly encouragement.