My husband loves me. He really, really loves me.
In our abbreviated tour through premarital counseling, our pastor mentioned the book The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman. He told us that the way people show love falls into five different categories. The categories are physical touch, acts of service, words of affirmation (spoken as well as in cards, etc), gifts and quality time. No one person has just one love language and the various combinations of love languages makes things really interesting.
Most people show love in the way that they themselves want to be loved. The trick is to figure out how your mate wants to be loved and love them that way instead of how you want to be loved.
After ten years of marriage, we’ve pretty much gotten the hang of it, but occasionally there is a hiccup. One of my husband’s primary ways that he shows love is by gift giving. That translates, for me, that he wants to be loved by being given gifts. One of my primary ways of showing love is by acts of service. And that is how I want to be loved.
I am never more attracted to my husband as when he is elbow deep in hot sudsy water – doing dishes, that is. I dread doing dishes. He downright loathes it, so I know that it is a true act of love and sacrifice when he (metaphorically) dons the hot pink rubber gloves and (actually) has a go at the perpetually dish-filled sink. “Check, Please!”
While the dishes are usually left to me, more often his acts of service are things like vacuuming the floors, bathing our children and getting them ready for bed. He even runs to the store when I’ve discovered that I’ve run out of some necessary ingredient for dinner. He’s amazing, no two ways about it.
Take the other night for example. I realized that I didn’t have enough potatoes. With thoughts of a five pound bag in my head, I made a quick call to his cell while he was out anyway and his act of love for the evening was completed. Now, when TCO loves, he loves big. No holds barred, no question about it, you know it.
As evidenced by this picture:
That’s right, it’s a potato. One very large monstrosity of a potato. And next to it is a (fairly good sized) roll of packing tape to help give you a sense of the enormity of the thing. And lest you think the love ended there, let me reassure you, dear reader, that there were many more of those potatoes where that came from. Fifteen pounds of them. You read that right, fifteen pounds!
That’s a whole lotta love, baby!