One afternoon I lay in bed next to my husband.

It had been a bumpy night and morning. We had been laid bare in some ways to one another.

A recent speaking engagement, and some painful comments from a fellow speaker, had left me feeling wounded. My husband had handled it with his normal grace and insight.

A week later, during my Pre-Moon time (which I call the vessel cleansing time), I found I was still hurt by the words. Not only was I hurt, but wanted my husband to defend me more vehemently. (Maybe even punch the guy. Not really, but my emotions raged through me and I felt vulnerable.)

We talked.

He understood my pain, my feeling less than safe, my fear and even my irrational response to it.

I cried freely and he held me with no expectation that I would be more rational, more logical. Just simple holding me—holding space while I felt what I felt until I fell asleep.

I woke up before he did. I looked at him and I felt an inner voice, “There is nothing more important than Love. The love you share can light up the world, and there is no purpose, no goal, no movement more important than that”

My heart was moved, deeply moved, as I watched him lying there.

I sunk into my heart and felt the tenderness there.

How much do I love this man! I thought. And my next thought was, how do I love this man? (What I mean by that is often in love and marriage it’s easy to let other things get in the way—the work, the ministry, the kids and the career. It’s easy to miss the real purpose for the marriage—to express the Divine to each other and to see the Divine in each other.)

We live in a society where love has become so very self referenced. It’s about how you love me, not about how I am expressing love to you.

We have the idea that getting the love we need is the biggest priority (which totally misses the point that there is a huge amount of fulfillment and joy to be found in the expressing of love itself).

It comes back to, “How do I love this man?”

I love him by my respect for him. My respect for his masculine essence and uniquely male way of doing things is affirming and powerful.

I love him by my appreciation for all of the ways that he supports, protects and provides for our family (and me as his wife).

I love him by my vulnerability (letting him see when I’m broken, hurting or not feeling so strong or capable is an expression of love and trust).

I love him by my communion—talking about things beyond the children, the bills, the house.

What about his dreams? His hopes? His vision? Letting my feminine energy hold the seeds of his longings is a great way to love.

I love him by my multifacetedness—the willingness to be not just his wife and a mother but also to embody fully being his lover, his co-adventurer as we go through life together (approaching the days with an eye toward wonder, curiosity and awe adds joy to his world and mine).

I love him without conditions.

He is magnificent, fearfully and wonderfully made. Not simply because of all he does, but because of who he is. When I vocalize this, it is the Divine speaking through me to him.

When I express my love I become the voice of the creator.

What on earth could be more important than that?

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Editor: Laura Ashworth

{Photo: elephant archives & flickr}