LEARNING AT THE POTTER'S WHEEL

Sub Title: When a Question Isn’t a Question

Disclaimer: Duke has read and given his approval for me to post the following. ;-)

I’ve been learning about how to be a wife all of my life. When I was a very young woman, I pretty much knew it all. Now, as a much older woman, I don’t know nearly so much as I should, and I’ve learned enough to realize that.

For me, the greatest measure of my success as a wife has been how well I’ve been able to know my man. You might think this is a simple task. But I didn’t marry a simple man. Sometimes, when you have two people who are trying so hard, life begins to resemble a comedy.

We had one of those days a while back. Duke had been working overtime, covering for other workers who were out sick. Of course, he doesn’t have but two settings (wide open and off), so by the time he gets home, he’s running on fumes and at some point, his tank is empty.

On this particular day, he arrived home tired but happy (still on fumes). We flirted with each other and laughed like we usually do. At supper, Duke and the boys lingered around the table, finishing up and visiting. I excused myself to the office to finish some paperwork. Duke finished his meal and was putting his dish away when the request for an apple arrived from the middle child.

We had one apple in the house and some more in storage. Duke called over to me, “Can we get an apple?”

Now, we switch to what happened in my female brain. I knew that Duke wasn’t asking me for my permission to get an apple. I assumed he was asking me either, (A) “Do we have enough apples between now and payday to bring in more from storage?” (B) “Have the kids had too much fiber, and will a whole apple give them diarrhea?” or (C) Both. I went with “C.” I recalled that we had fed some apples to guests AND that the boys had eaten plenty of fiber (including a nice plate of greens at supper). Additionally, the boys are used to having just ½ of an apple for a serving. So, knowing how tired Duke was from his long day and taking into consideration all of the above, I said, “No, they can just split the one there and each have ½.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I could tell from Duke’s expression that I had misread the entire situation. Looking back, Duke was just tired and wanting to be the good guy. The boys were wearing their biggest brown eyed expressions. Duke wanted to reassure himself that he was the hero they believe him to be, so he was creating an opportunity for me to affirm his decision. He wasn’t asking a question, really. He was saying, ‘Hey, I’m great and the kids love asking me for stuff. Isn’t that great?’ However, what came out of his mouth was “Can we get another apple?” My response was to what he said, not to what he meant and to his request for affirmation he got the answer, “No, they can just split the one there and each have ½ an apple.”

So to Duke’s ‘Isn’t this great?’ my ‘No’ was a blow. I was still clueless at this point, but could tell by the cloud that descended that I had suddenly fallen from favor. While I was still trying to figure out what had happened, Duke replied, “Only HALF!?” He gestured to the starving children at his side (they had just eaten big plates of roast beef, rice and collard greens), “Why can’t they just have a WHOLE apple?”

Still thinking of silly things like digestion and stocks in the pantry, I unwittingly replied, “Well, they usually only eat half. They just had a pretty big supper. Half should be enough.

Okay, so that’s two strikes. He’s lobbing me easy ones that I should be able to knock out of the park, and I’m focused on the bleachers (If you knew Duke you’d be proud to see how well I’m able to insert baseball analogies into every part of life).

The clincher to this was that Duke assumed that I was well aware of what he was trying to do (I wasn’t). He’s standing there, trying to be the hero his boys believe him to be (without the cape or the tights), and I’m just killing the moment by not being his adoring wife. Instead, I’m in literal land and answering the question that I heard. I’ve effectively put my foot out and tripped him as he was trying to leap another tall building.

So, Duke does what any self-respecting super-hero would do and he rallies his people. He becomes a defender of the downtrodden (a well-fed downtrodden) and stands up to the villain (me) with a scowl and words of a frustrated hero. Even at that moment, I still didn’t get it. I’m asking things like, “Why are you so mad? They’re YOUR apples. Get them if you want them. If you didn’t want my opinion, why’d you ask?”

Well, if you are going to start using logic when faced with emotions, I should tell you that you may as well save everyone concerned a lot of trouble and just quit.

That’s what I did. I could see that my responses were NOT appreciated and that my Duke was just too tired and worn out to bother explaining it to me. They got the apples. Their hero was still their hero. They went to bed.

I’ve been reading up on chaste conversation and realized that I really NEEDED to know what a chaste response would have been. I prayed and asked God to help me discern when a question wasn’t a question and how I could have/should have responded.

At some point, I began to see that the whole thing wasn’t about apples after all (DUH!). I also realized that the one thing Duke hates more than not being allowed to be a hero is having to admit that he might possibly have contributed to the confusion (I know, it would be a stretch).

I decided use humor to smooth things over. In his lunch box, along with his regular lunch, I crammed as many apples as I could. I expected him to come home chuckling.

Well, that didn’t exactly happen. He came home with that cloud still over his head. Of course, I wasn’t helping things by saying things like, “Why are you still mad?” To which he responded, “I’m not mad at you!”

That’s when God started answering my prayers to understand what had really happened. Along with that realization another thought occurred to me. Duke had made me the villain. If he apologized and/or admitted to playing a part in the misunderstanding, he would lose his super-hero status, hand that over to me and become the villain (in his own eyes, not mine). It appeared that Duke had gotten himself out on a limb and couldn’t figure out a way of giving up his position and reconciling without losing face.

I meditated on that as I got ready to go to the grocery store. I prayed as I went asking God to help me know how to respond. Then I saw them. Beautiful, silk tea roses were on sale at the grocery store. It had been a long time since Duke had gotten me flowers. Well, why not? I grabbed the colors I liked and headed for the checkout.

When we got home, Duke was sitting up in the living room chair half-dozing. Tired as he was, he should have laid down to rest, but he waited up to help me unload the groceries. We got them nearly all put away, and I pointed out the flowers.

“What are those for?” he asked. “Well,” I responded, ”I knew you would want me to have them, so I got them. They’re very pretty. Thank you!” He looked a bit confused and said, “You’re welcome.” Then I caught his eye and paused, “I know you feel bad about everything,” I said, “I accept your apology.”

FINALLY, I got it right! It was like a weight lifted. He gave me a great big bear hug and whispered sweet, mushy stuff to me. That man even made me cry with his sweetness.

I pulled away and asked, “Remember when we were just getting to know each other? You used to say that you just weren’t good enough. You said that over and over until one day I responded, ‘Well, then you’ll just have to improve!’” He nodded. “Well,” I said, “I have something to add to that. . . . . . GO!”

Duke chuckled. The cloud lifted, and I learned a little more about my man.