Some Days, I’m Hard to Live With
Some days, I’m hard to live with.
Ask my husband, David. God bless him.
Maybe you are too?
David is a carefree spirit whose motto in college was, If I can crawl over it, I can sleep on it. He eats whatever I cook and seldom notices piles of laundry or dirty dishes. If an opportunity for fun or adventure presents itself, he’s all in. He’ll figure out the details later. He’ll abandon even the best laid plans to help someone in need—especially children and the elderly.
I’m the exact opposite. I emerged from the womb with a desire to organize, control, and direct. As soon as I could read, I arranged my Little Golden Books in alphabetical order. My stuffed animals stood in line on my bookcase according to height. I preferred (yes, past tense) projects and plans over people.
In adulthood, structure helped me adapt to the chaos of new motherhood. No napping in the car for my babies. They had to be nestled into their cribs at 10 am and 1 pm. I wasn’t totally rigid. I was spiritually mature enough to recognize that if nap time conflicted with Sunday church, naptime could wait. But I admit, even then I chafed.
My gift of organization and love of structure helped our home, and later our homeschooling, run smoothly. One daughter, a firstborn like me, thrived. The second, a free-spirited people-person like my husband, survived. Now a mother herself, she’s striking her own balance between spontaneity and structure. Enough structure to keep her kids alive. Enough spontaneity to make it fun.
Now that our girls are out of our house, my husband is the sole beneficiary of my gifts. Since I love to plan my free time, I assume he’ll appreciate helpful suggestions for how to spend his Saturday. I share ideas for how we should spend our time, money, or energy. But sometimes I forget he has ideas, too.
Most of the time, he overlooks my bossiness. In my enthusiasm, I can get a little . . . overbearing. Every once and a while, though, I cross a line, and I carry his patience with me. Words fly, and I cry. And I apologize again. Sometimes it takes a while, but eventually I say, “I’m sorry I micromanage you. I don’t mean to be bossy, really I don’t.”
We hug. We pray. I pledge again to find the balance between helping him and hurting him. He promises not to wait until he’s totally frustrated before saying something.
When I’m alone with my thoughts, I think about the different gifts of the Spirit (Romans 12). To some, God gave the gift of teaching. To others, the gift of helps. He gifted me with the ability to administrate. But like any gift, I must surrender it to the Spirit’s control.
When I exercise my gifts, am I kind? Sensitive to God’s timing? Willing to step back when the situation warrants? Teachable? Open to another’s opinion? Respectful of their dignity? Loving in my delivery? Self-controlled and Spirit-led?
God gifted each of us with certain abilities, but this doesn’t give us carte blanche to use them on others, or even in every situation—they are, after all, the Spirit’s gifts for the Spirit’s use. We must, every day and every moment, seek to honor and glorify God and those around us with our actions.
Some days, I’m hard to live with. Maybe you are too?
Thankfully, God is faithful. He’ll teach us, day by day, to use our gifts to help, not to harm.
To come alongside, not run over, those we love. On the bad days, when we micromanage people or weary them with our plans, we can step back, apologize, and ask God for help. Please, Lord, make us more like Jesus.
We can take comfort in Philippians 1:6: “He who has begun a good work in you will be faithful to complete it.” This verse assures us that someday, either here or in eternity, we won’t be so hard to live with.
–Written by Lori Hatcher. Used by permission from the author.
