Stop being a butthole wife. No, I’m serious. End it.

Let’s start with the laundry angst. I get it, the guy can’t find the hamper. It’s maddening. It’s insanity. Why, why, must he leave piles of clothes scattered, the same way that the toddler does, right? I mean, grow up and help out around here, man. There is no laundry fairy.

What if that pile of laundry is a gift in disguise from a God you can’t (yet) see? Don’t roll your eyes, hear me out on this one.

I was a butthole wife. Until my husband died.

The day my husband left earth for Heaven, all of my marriage problems vanished. There was no one to fuss at, negotiate with, or play possum at bedtime (you know, when you pretend you’re asleep to bypass sex).

Marriage is designed to be a reflection of Christ’s love for His people. It’s supposed to be beautifully harmonious and intimate. How often I screwed that up with bickering and manipulating. I wanted a perfect husband who acted how I wanted, and if that didn’t happen, well, butthole wife was in full effect. If only he could understand how right I was and how wrong he’d always be. I needed to instruct him, question him, and remind him of his shortcomings. After all, I was his “helpmate”.

The reality is, I wasn’t helping him or our marriage.

By pointing out each fault, I was poisoning the relationship. Oh, it was still a good marriage and we deeply loved each other, but it was not what it could have been.

And now it was too late.

Days after his funeral, I stared at our dirty clothes basket that sat atop our dryer, knowing his clothes were inside. I sighed so deeply. Before me was the last load of laundry I would ever wash for that sweet man. There would be no more dirty socks to pick up around the house. Ever.

A week before I would have rolled my eyes at that basket. But now, it held priceless treasures. I waited weeks to wash those clothes. My heart ached for dirty socks to once more be a part of my days.

Those messes dotted around the house are reminders of God’s gifts to us. Like Jesus, we have the opportunity to demonstrate love by serving those we live with. And the last time I checked, not a single person is perfect. How many times had my husband kept quiet, listened, and endured? He shared no list of ways that I needed refinement. He simply loved me.

Those clothes were painfully cleaned and boxed away or donated. The tears countless.

But God, the Lover of my soul, in His infinite mercy, later gave me a special gift. He has allowed me to love again, to wear a second wedding dress, and to be a better wife.

I married a wonderful man. I am still a butthole wife, but I am working on edifying the man who provides for my sons and me. I now strive to hug more and nag less. My goal is to make him feel respected, important, valued. I want to live love.

Recently, I walked into the master bedroom and I stopped, nearly bursting into tears.

I saw a pile of dirty clothes that my new husband had abandoned on the floor.

As I stared at the pile, I smiled. I knew he had hurried to change out of work clothes into comfy clothes so he could spend time with his new family. He had chosen what is more important. I happily scooped the treasures into my arms and carried them to the washing machine.

I get to do this! I get to serve! I get to live with a wonderful man who ditches laundry for people.

“Let us not become weary in doing good.” Galatians 6:9

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Read more from Debbie at www.debbiewilkinsbaisden.com and www.fitwithdeb.com