love me tender

Relationships. It doesn't matter if they're with your parents, your kids, your friends, business associates, husbands or wives. We're all in relationships. And sometimes we take them for granted. Sometimes we aren't very kind. Sometimes we yell. Sometimes we hit. Sometimes we leave. I got it twice today, this relationship stuff, and it came from two different arenas. One was a story that makes me cry just thinking about it, of an alcoholic and his wife, and the pain he's caused her. Steve says we forgive, because the man's trying not to be like that anymore, and he's wiser than I am about this, because he's walked the walk for 25 years. But me? I ask my husband, "So what if he starts drinking again and beats the crap out of his wife again? Do you forgive him again?" I have to take a deep breath.

Then I get a call from a friend who knows someone who's on their third marriage. He started out nicely enough (again), but now that things are stressful, he's starting to take it out on his wife. I know her - she's so sweet, really quiet, just takes what she gets. My friend wants to do an intervention - I feel sorry for the wife. Steve's in the back room watching TV. I stand in the doorway and ask him if he loves me.

"Yes," he says, smiling that beautiful smile at me.

"Am I a good person?" I ask, needily.

"Yes, you're a good sh**," he says (that's a great compliment, trust me).

"Are you glad you married me? Am I good to you?" I ask so many questions.

"Yes, very glad, and I'll never leave you," he adds for good measure (he's SUCH a good boy).

Where does this come from, I wonder, with tears in my eyes? This sudden realization that things could be a lot, LOT worse, and I don't always appreciate or realize how good I've got it with this smart, sweet, loving man that I share my life with. And why do I even think I NEED to think about it? Well, because I think about EVERYTHING, especially when I feel it, right, BAM, in my gut, right above my belly button. The tenderness of family, the trust, how we can positively screw up our children by making them witness our stupidity. How we get the valuable opportunity of being gentle in every encounter, being patient and kind, and how I think of how most of the time I am those things (I hope), but sometimes I am not, and that makes me sad. I don't drink, I don't hit people, but I most certainly take things out on Steve and Billy sometimes. Usually, though, I try just to stay away and be silent, so I don't do or say anything hurtful, until I can get rested, or calm down.

So I'm curious as to why I'm so angry at these two men I've heard about today, and I know it isn't always men, but a lot of time it seems to be them, and the women are the quieter ones trying to smooth things over, make them work, and I think Steve and I are equals in that regard - he lets me do my crazy stuff, but doesn't let me go totally over the edge. He gently reels me back in by asking pointed questions, challenging me. And I support him. I love him, I do, and it's really good. So today in the sun and the warmth, I am thinking about love, and about why we choose to stay with the people we stay with, even if they hurt us. And I have trust that everyone will leave when they need to leave, knowing they are strong enough, and worth enough, to be treated with respect and consideration, and above all, to be loved very tenderly.