“I’m not sure how to sleep without you tucked in next to me.” I said to Stuart, speaking the words 5,000 miles away from our home we’ve built. (I’m in Italy. He’s managing the household in my absence.) In our seventeen years of marriage, I can still easily count the amount of nights we have spent apart. This is a gift that I do not take for granted.
Traveling away from home this past week has left me longing for the feeling of his body next to mine.
At night, our bodies know how to sleep, perfectly tucked and cuddled inside one another’s. Eventually, like most, we end up strewn about the bed with arms and legs tangled throughout, but for those first few moments of slipping into bed at night, our bodies are one another’s — to confide in, to warm up next to, to touch, to comfort, to delight.
Yes, I’m taking about physical delight.
This morning, winding through the green hills of Umbria in our rental car, my traveling partner, Sarah, asked me what advice I would give to married couples who were struggling. My advice was simple, and perhaps spoke to the longing of my husband’s affection, but it remains true, nonetheless.
Here would be the best advice I could offer to married couples…
(Sorry Mom and Dad. You may not want to read any further.)
My advice would be this: have more sex. That is, find a way to fall in love with having sex with your spouse; a way that both of you take delight, comfort, joy, and fulfillment in.
Therapists and pastors alike have told me that the two biggest challenges any married couple face are sex and money; yet all too often, these are subjects we’re left to navigate on our own. They’re “taboo” and “distasteful” to talk about, after all. Quickly, such subjects become awkward to speak of and thus, we don’t. Even with our closest friends. Let’s do better than that for each other.
Here’s my disclaimer: even though I’m just a person writing to you from a computer screen, I hope those of you who have followed us meaningfully know my heart behind these words is to build up, to encourage, and to open the conversation regarding a great source of joy and destruction in our marriages. Yet I am but a (almost) 40 year old woman, with a gem of a husband to delight in, so I will not pretend to reach into your history and the baggage that can come with intimacy. There’s most certainly a reason that it is a hot-topic for pastors and therapists — it is ripe with sin, with destructive choices, with exposure, with abuse, with exploitation, with expectation. Please know that I am not trying to glaze over or over-simplify this topic. And if you’d like to talk more about it, or about a particular part of it, please let me know.
I’ve been away from home for less than a week, and I do miss my other physical half. A body I know almost as well as my own. We are all physical creatures with physical pieces (you know the ones I’m talking about) and physical desires — to deny such would be in vain. Our bodies have ways of reminding us of such: we experience fatigue, lust, hunger, thirst, sleepiness. We live a physical presence.
Given that, it’s very important in our marriage to acknowledge both parties physical natures — to find a way in which they can both be safe, cared for, fulfilled, and nurtured.
I cannot speak for a man, and frankly, I’m thankful to not be one. Even though womanhood comes with varying emotions throughout the month, it is a wave I have learned to ride. I know there are times when I will seek tenderness from my husband; and times of energy and excitement. Yet regardless of my hormones-de-jour, the core remains the same: I seek him.
I once heard it said that a woman’s intimacy is like a garden to which only her husband has the key; but she should be careful to not change the locks daily. I don’t want my husband to question whether or not I will be open to intimacy; I want to be his fortress, his constant, his home.
The late Tim Keller often advised struggling married couples in his church to “do the actions they would do if they felt the emotion”. To put it another way, let the emotions follow the action. This becomes quite important for married couples to remember as they spend their days coordinating rides to piano practice, thawing chicken out for dinner, and scrubbing dog vomit off the floor. These are not sexy parts of life — if you think you won’t be in the mood after a day filled with such tasks, you’re most likely right. Yet intimacy has a way of touching our senses, of stirring up stuck emotions and physically releasing the stress or fatigue of daily living. Let’s say you DID feel like being intimate with your spouse… what would you do?
I would take a shower, put on my lotions and creams, dress in my silk pajamas, and eagerly wait in bed for my husband to arrive. By the time I’ve physically finished these actions, chances are, I’ve emotionally followed suit.
I cannot, nor would I want to, give you a checklist or schedule or any other such nonsense. Intimacy is intimate — with the details to be set and enjoyed by you and yours.
It just also tends to be one of the first pieces to be cast aside, in the way of social obligations, misaligned schedules, lack of motivation, or just general life fatigue. I am determined for it to not be so in my marriage. The goal of this newsletter, of our whole scope of work, is to cultivate the beautiful life; facilitating a sex life with my husband that is healthy and vibrant and secure and pleasurable and delights us both is most certainly an important piece of the puzzle. It is the space in which we get to share our burdens and cast ourselves upon one another, where we get to share in a physical intimacy with one another in a way that is far beyond anything we share with the world. It is a gift, and certainly not one that should be given a half-hearted effort after our to-do list is finally finished. It is of the utmost. For us both.
So yes, my advice would be to have more of it, finding ways to tend to it, just like you would a garden; planting pieces you love, weeding out what you don’t, delighting in the fruits of your labor.
If you’re my husband and you’re reading this, I’m sure you’re far more anxious for me to come home than you were a few moments ago…
… and if you’re someone who needed the encouragement, I hope you found it.
Now go love your person well.
Love,
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