The black dress stuck to my damp body, the southern September Sunday in full heat. It was hard to imagine that Jeffrey was gone. She would always be part of our story, since it was she who set us up on a blind date just two years prior. I was emotionally worn from the funeral and ready to make the 2-hour-drive and get back home.

“Let’s go for a hike!” Robbie said. “There’s this amazing park right here in town.”

Oh boy, I thought. Here we go.

I like the outdoors. Well, I like the idea of the outdoors. I don’t know, maybe I just like the indoors. But I seem to have this great apprehension when Robbie wants to do something outside, because I never quite seem prepared for it. Whether emotionally, physically, or both, I am ill-prepared, and I almost never have the right clothes.

The pajamas I’d packed for the overnight stay were my only other clothing besides the dress I was wearing, so we rolled up to Dollar General and purchased the only clothes we could find: a pajama tank top and a pair of blue and green boxer shorts emblazoned with toads saying “Toadally Awesome.” The irony was THICK.

I had an overwhelming sense of dread as we approached the park, stopped at the restroom, and looked for the trailhead. You would have thought he was asking me to climb Everest as I picked my nails and pouted. He was oblivious. 

We got to the trailhead in the deserted park and were presented with 1-mile and 3-mile options for our torture hike. He was almost giddy as he exclaimed with delight that we should do the 3-miler. “In these shoes?” I said. “No way!”

I could tell he was disappointed, but he succumbed to my wishes and off we went down the 1-mile trail. I tripped over roots on the winding trail and got bit by every mosquito in the county. 

As I lumbered behind him, the soles of my feet began to burn as they rubbed against my new Target dress sandals and my eyes filled with tears. He bounced along ahead, repeating how much fun he was having.

It wasn’t a challenging course by any stretch. One mile shouldn’t have been a big deal. And yet, I felt like I was dying. Sure, the heat was a little oppressive, and my feet were hurting, but my tear-streaked cheeks told the truth that turmoil was brewing in my heart.

With every step, I had to continue telling myself that I could do this. I could do it because I loved him. I knew it would ruin his time if he knew just how much I hated our activity, so I suffered silently.

I didn’t know it then, but that walk in the woods four years ago became a turning point in my marriage.

In those days, I would’ve told you Robbie was needy. I felt like he was constantly asking me to prove my love to him, and I was constantly failing.  I imagined him saying, “You better go on this hike, or you couldn’t possibly love me.”

We had struggled since we met to find activities that we both enjoyed doing together. Everything felt like a sacrifice, certainly not like fun. The truth is that he often didn’t feel loved, and I didn’t know why.

I had said “no” so often to the things that mattered to his heart, unknowingly wounding him. I now realize that my reasons for saying no were in part misunderstanding his needs and part due to my own fear. Fear that I wouldn’t be good enough, fear that I couldn’t physically keep up with him, fear that I would fail.

Thank the Lord for that terrible hike in the park! I needed to get to the point that I was willing to get uncomfortable to love him well and help him to feel safe. That day he was asking me to speak his language. It wasn’t just about hiking or some physical feat he was asking me to accomplish, like I thought it was. He longed for time with me. What I know now is that quality time is his love language. (Learn more about love languages here.)

I’m grateful that so much has changed and grown in us since that day. Now, if Robbie knows I am having a hard time with something, he wants me to tell him, and he is gracious and loving. We are continually working toward a marriage where the other feels safe, free to share and show our true heart, and not taking it personally when the other finds offense or doesn't see it our way.

That day in the park, God gave me the grace to choose Robbie. I spoke love to him in a language he could hear. I chose his heart above my comfort. I chose his activity, and therefore, I chose his heart above my fear.

In the same way that those who are deaf cannot hear themselves speak and find it challenging to pronounce simple words, fear deafens us, disabling us from speaking love plainly.

Fear deafens us, disabling us from speaking Love plainly.

But when we allow God’s work in us to silence fear, we are free to speak and act in love. And love chooses the other. It goes to any and all lengths, any effort to get to the heart of the other. It’s not easy, but with Jesus’ help it’s possible.

“Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.” 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

Love is radical. 

Love presses in even when it’s not convenient and especially when it’s not easy. 

Love is willing to sacrifice. 

I chose love that day, a love that looks like boxer shorts and blistered feet, and my marriage is better for it.