As twilight deepened, casting a quilt of shadows across our living room, I found a cozy refuge on our couch, my legs tucked beneath me and my arms enveloped in the comforting embrace of a plush dark blue blanket. The stillness of the evening surrounded me, punctuated only by my intermittent sighs—each one a quiet plea for relief from the emotional turmoil swirling within me. With shallow breaths, a clenched stomach, and stiff shoulders, my gaze was distant, fixated on the void before me where time seemed suspended, yet inside, a tempest raged with relentless vigor.

This storm within had been ignited by what seemed a trivial argument with my husband—a spark that set off a barrage of blame and regret. Amid this emotional upheaval, I remained motionless, cocooned in my blanket, anchored in thought, focused on the eye of the storm swirling with winds of anger and resentment. Unbeknownst to him, he had become the unwitting target of unresolved trauma and pain, meeting the perfect storm of emotions.

Reflecting on these moments when silence dominated, my body tightens, and my breath shortens. The memory triggers a visceral response; my body remembers, and I exhale peacefully to write the next line.

Over 20 years ago, my emotional toolkit was rudimentary, filled with the blunt instruments of silence and withdrawal. The silent treatment was a fortress I’d retreat to, a refuge from the disquiet of confrontation—a learned, helpless response shaped by earlier, unforgiving emotional battles. Within my mind’s walls, I crafted a narrative where I was the righteous, aggrieved party, and my husband the unwitting antagonist.

Doesn’t it always feel better to believe we are the virtuous ones, pure and justified, while casting harsh judgment as though we are saints, unblemished by our own faults or misdeeds? Yet, there’s often a shift where the hurt becomes the hurter. Are we justified in inflicting even greater pain? It’s easy to rally a tribe of supporters who will champion our cause. The wounded victim deserves justice, they’ll argue, calling for the wrongdoer to be punished, hurt, and shamed. Yet, even as a Jesus follower, I’ve caught myself too readily joining this chorus. But doesn’t this just make us like everyone else? Shouldn’t we aspire to the extraordinary examples of grace, forgiveness, love, and understanding that Jesus modeled, rather than an eye for an eye which leaves us all blind?

I am no master at giving grace, forgiveness, love, and understanding, particularly when I am hurt. However, I have gotten so much better. The “getting better” has come by experiencing life losses that have left me broken inside at times. Sometimes, that is what it takes to let the light in. With the illumination you begin to see and notice. Notice where there is work to be done on ourselves and notice the love, we have surrounding us as we do the work. My husband has taught me the profound strength found in being the first to apologize, to offer grace, understanding, and love. This apparent weakness is, in fact, a courageous act—setting aside personal grievances to extend peace and love first, achieving what feels almost divine and certainly not for the faint-hearted.

Choosing healing over hardening, love over bitterness, is daunting. It involves a deep self-reflection, a willingness to let God lead, and an acceptance of personal responsibility—a shift from blaming others to working on oneself. Healing means shedding the familiar weight of pain that’s become a part of us, a part we fear losing because its absence feels so alien. Yet, the freedom and joy that come from letting go are both liberating and terrifying. How do we embrace happiness without the shadow of old pain? Feeling happy can even bring a sense of guilt for leaving behind the part of us that is so familiar.

I thank God for uniting me with my husband, Drew. Through every emotional storm, Drew has chosen to communicate, to apologize first—even when he wasn’t at fault. His unwavering patience and understanding have gradually softened my guarded untrusting exterior. His readiness to mend rifts has not only healed old wounds but has been the cornerstone of our relationship, fostering a nurturing environment for our love to flourish.

This week, as we celebrate our 19th wedding anniversary, I reflect on the profound growth in our relationship. What began as clumsy emotional fumbling has matured into a deep, resonant connection. Drew’s consistent readiness to bridge gaps has enriched our life together immeasurably. His small acts of saying “I’m sorry” first have woven a tapestry of trust and forgiveness, reminding us both of the enduring power of love and reconciliation.

As I sit wrapped in the soft fabric of my blanket, the emotional storms have lessened and the noticing of when the spark begins to light a fire of anger is much clearer. These reflections bring into focus not just the journey we’ve navigated but the nurturing environment we’ve cultivated—a testament to the transformative power of love and forgiveness. In the spirit of this growth, I make it a point to break the silence more often and communicate first. I have noticed that his love and affection have helped me to thaw my cold crossed arms into being the one to approach him with an unexpected hug. To make a point to ask what he needs. To be there for a sounding board for him. His example has changed me more than anything. This full-circle soul lesson that, thankfully, God has given us to learn, of communication, understanding, humility, grace and love is a journey I would take a million times over if it would bring us to where we are now.