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Our youngest cub screamed “MOM!!” at the top of his lungs. (And I was a mere 20 feet away, mind you).
Obviously, I was going to walk into the living room and find a severed limb (which has never happened in my house) or a broken big screen TV (which has happened in my house. But that’s a story for another time).
Takes a lot to rattle me, but I got up from my chair at my desk and nonchalantly responded to what must be a life-or-death situation.
It was dog puke.
There’s much truth in that saying that once a woman becomes a mother, her tolerance for gross stuff goes way up.
Out of necessity. Out of frequency of said scenarios.
Out of reality that as her tolerance is rising, the tolerance of every other capable person in the house seems to systematically plummet.
So I pulled the carpet cleaning machine from the closet to clean up dog puke from carpet that I think was installed in the early 80s. (That’s no lie.)
Always the optimist, I rationalized it was a good time to clean the carpet anyway, because there were already muddy prints on it. (Thanks to the pup. And the rain.)
What could all this possibly have to do with sex?
Well, nothing directly per se. I mean, after all, cleaning up dog puke hardly could be considered foreplay, even with the loosest definitions of foreplay.
BUT, life is messy, right?
And it’s more often messy than it is crisp and clean. Messy hearts. Messy emotions. Messy calendars. Messy floors. Messy jobs. So on and so forth. You know what I’m talking about.
And I have found that sexual intimacy with my husband helps me keep sane amidst all that mess.
Sex builds our resilience to weather the ups and downs of life, the annoying inconveniences (dog puke), the debilitating tragedies (grief, loss, confusion), and the crazy-making that just comes with being human.
And with being married.
This is why I have sex. Much more than the biblical command behind it, but rather because sexually connecting with the man I love gives me perspective.
Keeps me grounded.
Reassures my heart.
Helps me not be derailed by life’s messiness.
I think God just knew — He knew that when a husband and wife mutually and respectfully and intentionally treasure each other intimately, they would find solace there. They would be rejuvenated by their sexual oneness in unexpected ways.
So I cleaned up the dog puke. Marveled at my now somewhat-clean 1980s carpet.
And felt grateful my husband and I had made love last night. God must have known I needed it.
Copyright 2016, Julie Sibert. Intimacy in Marriage Blog. Links may be monetized.
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