The Art of Being Multi-Lingual Successfully

What is your love language? A sister in our last ward gave a presentation in a Relief Society meeting about this. I went out and bought Gary Chapman’s book because the idea intrigued me so much. It didn’t take me long to figure out that my love language is acts of service. It’s a little complicated, actually. I mean, I’m almost paralyzed with self-consciousness and rarely give acts of service to people outside my own family unless someone says, “Will you, please, do X for So and So?” And I am by far NOT the best housekeeper in the world, but I like to be able to spend time putting things in order for my family.

My hubby left for a weeklong business trip last Sunday morning, and I spent a couple of hours that evening cleaning his desk and work area. First, it drove me crazy because MY desk is about five feet away from his, and I really hate to work in such a messy area. But I also knew that he kept planning to….meaning to get to the mess himself, but it just wasn’t gonna happen. Really, the time I spent seemed to fly by, and I got such a sense of well being as I saw the desk, well, SEEING the desk.

I especially liked being able to get through the boxes and baskets and put things away for him. When I was done, I took pictures and sent them to him via text message. It was really fun for me to be able to do that for him. Because, well, I love him, and I appreciate so much that he is doing something right now that is blessing our family.

I hear friends complain about the laundry all the time, and I just smile. For me, that’s one of those rare household tasks that I’ve completely mastered, and since I’ve been blessed to have a separate laundry room in my home most of the time Darryl and I have been married, I really, really like being able to have a fairly clean and organized place to clean and organize the clothing my loved ones wear. The OCD or ADHD or whatever letters I should have engraved on my résumé embraces the opportunity to have this job that has a clear beginning, middle, and end. The difference between before and after is remarkable. There is a peace that offering this particular act of service to my loved ones brings me. I think my husband experiences something of the same when he cooks. He is an amazing cook, and I’m not sure whether the kids appreciate what a gift that is. But I do. Every single time he gets in that kitchen and cooks for me, for us, I feel loved. Okay, the one time he used stale potato chips on top of the casserole was not so great, but that was just the one time!

It makes me crazy when I hear guys joke about how impossible it is to understand women. Seriously, if she’s that important to you, take the time to pay attention to what she does for/to you so you know what is important to her.

When I turned 43, my husband surprised me with a trip to Hawai’i. His parents were serving a mission there at the time, so we had free lodging. It was the best trip I have EVER taken. Well, actually, the trip with the family to New York in 2009 WAS pretty awesome, but still. Now, you might say to yourself, “Well, DUH! Of course she thought going to Hawai’i was the best birthday gift.” But guess what? You would be wrong. Going to Hawai’i was kind of gravy for me. Yeah, it was beautiful and fun, and I quickly fell in love with it. But the part that still makes my heart go pitter patter was that my husband took the time and expended the effort to make arrangements for our trip and for our kids while we would be gone. He put a lot of his own energy into making this happen for me. THAT is what made me feel loved.

I’ve come a long way from being the embittered, frustrated wife who felt like I was doing everything while my hubby did nothing. Okay, for the record, my feelings didn’t represent with 100% accuracy the situation in our home. But bless his sweet heart, my husband has spent a lot of time in recent memory trying to remember what I’ve asked him to do or what I clearly prefer in keeping our little world running. He knows I don’t need or want help with the laundry, but he knows I DO want the shower curtain closed. He knows I DO want him to cook for us AND clean up after himself as he cooks. He’s catching on that I am very uncomfortable making phone calls (except when I am talking with friends or family), so he’s doing that less grudgingly, while I wash his dirty socks and underwear with a smile, nary a complaint, and real love in my heart as I do it.

Another thing I love to do is bake treats I know he likes. And I just finished making myself some lunch, and that reminded me that I love to do that for him. I know he likes to have a sandwich brought to him while he's working at his desk. And I make a pretty mean egg salad sandwich :D

Oh, and I know what HIS love language is. His is physical touch. And I try (though I often forget about it) to make sure that I run my fingers through his hair or hold his hand or just lay my hand on his leg when we sit side by side. Yes, I really suffer in showing him love in a language he understands :D I can see our son is the same. He thrives on “pwning” his dad on a regular basis. We have to remake our bed every night before we turn in for the night because it’s been messed up with all the wrestling sessions as our son comes and tries to best his dad who outweighs him by about 150 pounds. He also comes to me about every 15 minutes for a hug. Yeah, tough job, but I’ll muddle through. Since our son is number 6 of my 7, I recognize what a sweet gift it is that he still not only needs our hugs and stroking his hair (he LOVES that!), but he wants them too.

I can see that our sweet girl takes after me. She does every. single. thing. I ask her to do without delay. I have to remind myself to not ask her to do too much because she would certainly do it. She’s a great kid. And I really GET her, and I think she gets me too. And it’s easy enough to do something to show her how much I love her because I just think, “What would I think if someone did this for me?” I often forget how lucky I am with these people who populate my life and home. I'm so glad they are mine.

Some of my other loved ones, I haven’t got a clue. ::sigh::