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I haven’t written much for this blog lately. I feel drained and dry of inspiration and of posts that aren’t too personal (because there are things you just can’t post about) or sound too superficial or trying-to-sound-oh-so-spiritual.

I’ve been letting lots of thoughts on the topic stew in my head for awhile and then finally, one night while lying in bed, I finally asked my man the bigger question that’s been on my mind. The one that I can’t seem to stop asking him even though I’ve asked him so many times since we became a couple: “Are you okay with my blogging thing?”

“Of course!” And then he asked a question of his own: “Do you enjoy it?”

I smiled in his ear, as I felt the knot in my heart loosen with his words. “Yes. I do enjoy it.”

“Then you should keep doing it.” I listened to his voice above the thrum of the traffic down the road. “As long as you enjoy it, do it. If you ever stop enjoying it, stop blogging.”

[I may or may not have kissed him at this juncture, before he continued.]

“Well, that is, unless you strike it big in the blogging world. If you’re making loads of money, I’d tell you to keep doing it even if you don’t love it anymore.”

And so I laughed and smacked him over the head with a pillow.

I really appreciate the fact that my husband encourages me to press on with things I enjoy and am passionate about. When I decided to step down from participating in the spring 2011 semester of community choir, the first thing he asked me was, “You’ll start up again in the fall, right? You have to keep doing this, you know.”

Knowing what sort of person he is, it isn’t a surprise, but it’s reassuring, encouraging and cherishing. One of my fears, as we approached marriage, was the thought of losing myself. As a teen, I immersed myself in a sub-culture that specializes in black-and-white and no grey areas. Woman must be keepers-of-the-home and should be submissive to their husbands or fathers. Women should not have their own dreams, passions and focus, but should work only at helping make their father’s dreams, husband’s dreams a reality. They should do everything they can to please the men in their lives as their role on this earth is to serve them.

Today, I know I’m a lot more balanced in my views and I know that Tyson would never dream of treating me in such a way or ever try to force me into such a role. I know this, but because of what I absorbed and came from, it makes me feel infinitely better, safer and more cherished when he – like he so often does – reassures and encourages me to pursue my passions, even if he doesn’t share in them. I know that this is how marriage should be: each encouraging and cheering on the other in life, sharpening each other as iron sharpens iron, helping the other up when one falls, etc.

This is what it’s supposed to be like. How amazing is that?

[I just wish, sometimes, that I didn’t doubt it, didn’t need the reassurance that my dreams do matter, my passions are good and I should keep at things.]

And so, my man made all the difference to me – his wife – the other night. I feel cherished when he tells me to write if I love to write, that my words are good after he’s read them. I want to write all the more after he tells me to keep at it, to pursue what I love, just because I love it.

So. I keep at it. This writing thing.

Thanks, darling. ❤