“Why is the sky blue,” asked my four-year-old son. “Why do dogs bark and cats meow?” “Why do we eat cereal for breakfast?” “Why does Grandma live far away?” “Why does Daddy have to go to work?” His questions were endless and there were times I wanted to yell, “shut up,” but I didn’t. Because I loved him.

The same is true of marriage. There are things my husband does that drives me absolutely crazy and if I dwell on them, they rub a sore spot in my soul and begin to fester and before I know it, I’m not liking him very much. Love looks over these things, as long as they aren’t self-destructive, and at some point they start to become endearing.

It used to drive me crazy, the way he ate his cereal in the morning. He’d dunk every flake over and over. Don’t try and figure out why that bothered me, it just did. I had to bury my head in the newspaper so I wouldn’t notice what he was doing. But after ignoring this behavior for a long period of time, I no longer even notice it. That’s what love is, not letting the little things bother us anymore–I’ll bet there are plenty of things I do that bug him too.

I watched an interesting program on TV tonight about the search for the Holy Grail. Dan Brown in the Da Vinci Code says he believes it to be Mary Magdalene, but for centuries it was thought to be a chalise, the cup that Jesus drank from the night before he died. This chalise has launched wars that lasted for hundreds of years and in the end, it looks like it all was the figment of a 12 Century writer.

But is it? Aren’t we all searching for something holy? It can take on many forms depending who we are. For a writer it can be that perfect story, for a poet a sonnet, for a painter a portrait, an architect a building, a baseball player that perfect game. It seems as if most of us have a need to search for the perfection whether it be within or without.

It’s my contention that the Holy Grail is only a breath away. It’s humbling ourselves, acknowledging that there is a power greater than us, and submitting our will to His.

Do you have the courage to take up the challenge of this search? The one that will lead to eternal riches?

Ephedra, Weight Watchers, diet pills, exercise, surgery–all lead to what our society holds up as the ideal–a thin body. Yes, I know part of it is for health reasons, but give me a break. When was the last time you heard anyone talk about what really matters–what’s going on in our hearts.

It’s my belief that if we worried more about the condition of the heart, we’d have less crime, fewer abortions, the divorce rate would plummet, and there would be fewer people with drug and alchohol problems. But, of course, we can’t teach about that in the classroom–things like self-control, putting others first, forgiveness–that’s too close to religion. And we can’t have that.

Instead, let’s worry more about the outer man and make laws to control him. That’s working really well.

My husband and I are fans of American Idol. I’ve come to appreciate Simon Cowell over the years. What we need more of in our lives is someone who tell us truth.

I’m a writer and I don’t need anyone telling me my writing is fine or great or okay. What I want is someone to speak up and say, “That performance can bee seen every Friday night in a karaoke bar.” I have to be better than that if I’m going to catch an editor’s eye.

Sure it’s hard to hear that your mediocre and we boo Simon for saying what he says, but he’s a pofessional. He knows. These young wannabes better listen. What they are being given is worth millions.

Now if only an editor would say more to me than, “This is not right for our house.” What the heck does that mean?

My paper this morning had a picture of those miners that were freed in Australia. Two weeks underground and they walked out alive. Their faces reflected their joy. I can’t imagine being trapped like that in a dark, hopeless place, fearing for my life.

It brought to mind another kind of entrapment–that of expectations in a marriage. I buried my husband in a hopeless place just as dark as that mine with my desires for him to act and be a certain way. I wanted him to be more romantic and was always just a bit disappointed in his efforts to bring me a card or take me out to dinner or buy me a present.

I wanted him to be home at night at a certain time even though traffic and his boss’s demands were often out of his control. I’d punish him with my silence or my words, believing he did this to me for some deep, dark motive.

I wanted him to say certain words to me–I’d play the scenario out in my head and when he didn’t come through, I’d cry or mope or walk out of the room.

Reading this over, I don’t sound like a nice person, do I? But I’m not much different than you, trying to get my needs met through someone else. I felt unloved and wanted him to make the feeling go away.

It was when I stopped this behavior and opened the prison of expectations, that joy returned to my husband’s face.

He likes being around me and looks forward to coming home. He’s grown much more romantic over the years and he says the sweetest things to me. No, he’s not perfect, but then neither am I. And that feeling of being unloved? Has disappeared as I’ve discovered the best way to be loved is to allow your man to be free.

Hello,
My name is Judy Bodmer and this is my first attempt at blogging. It’s a bit scary to put my thoughts out there for everyone to see, but hopefully the benefits will go both ways as I hear your comments come back to me.

I’ve written a couple of books, but the most popular one is titled, When Love Dies: How to Save a Hopeless Marriage. My goal in writing it was to talk to other women who feel as if they no longer love their husbands, something I went through. It’s a lonely place, especially if you’re a Christian. Hopefully, you can tell me about your pain in this forum and we can discuss it and hear from others who are going through similar struggles. Maybe in the telling we can find mutual support. I find there is great healing in knowing I’m not alone.

I’m also a writing instructor and from time to time I’ll probably have thoughts about the craft of writing. Or you may hear me rant about my latest rejection. Perhaps you’ll rejoice with me over an acceptance.

Whatever you’re going through, I hope we can find mutual comfort from each other’s stories and be inspired to do better.