The Wife I Don't Want To Be

I'm standing in my friend's kitchen when I start to drip. Well, not me, really. My handbag. Fat drops of water fall from my bag and splatter on the ground.

Plink.
Plink.
Plink.

I paw through the deep belly of my purse. My checkbook is wet. My lipsticks swim in a puddle. My water bottle is empty and the cap bobs in the tide. I fish around for my wet keys and understand that my personal items will spend the afternoon soaking in the sun.

I look to the floor.

"Let me dry this," I say.  And as I swipe the drops from my friend's hardwood, a verse about a drippy wife comes to mind. And as that verse settles on my heart, I remember the text I'd sent Lonny an hour before.

There's a mouse in the schoolroom. Washing machine croaking.. Engine light on red van. And your children are driving me wild.

Lonny is out of town again. He's busy. I'm busy. Our conversations have been limited. And when I think about it, when I really think, most of my words have sounded the same.

I fall into this pattern sometimes. Lonny, my closest friend, my most safe place, the other half of my heart, often gets the deep complaints. I don't want to pretend with him, or withhold the depths of my life, but there are times when my words, my tone, may leave a little to be desired.

Catch the mouse.
Save the washer.
Fix the van.
Rescue me from the children.

Drip, drip, drip, drip.
Complain. Complain. Fuss. Fuss.

Maybe holding back on the negative stuff, swapping for a few encouraging words, would be a good thing. Maybe uplifting words, rather than a stockpile of frustration, would be pleasing to hear.

I place the towel on the counter. The water is removed from the floor. I'm excited to remove the drips of frustration from my future conversations with Lonny, too.

Sounds good.

Now for the souped-out status of my purse...

A quarrelsome wife is as annoying as constant dripping on a rainy day. Proverbs 27:15 NLT