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  • Kelli Rae Wilson

When Your Husband Stops Asking..


When your husband stops asking, โ€œHow are you?โ€ ____________________________________________


๐™๐™ค๐™ง ๐™– ๐™ข๐™ค๐™ข๐™š๐™ฃ๐™ฉ ๐™„ ๐™–๐™ก๐™ข๐™ค๐™จ๐™ฉ ๐™ข๐™ž๐™จ๐™จ๐™š๐™™ ๐™ฉ๐™๐™š ๐™ข๐™ž๐™ง๐™–๐™˜๐™ก๐™š ๐™‚๐™ค๐™™ ๐™ฌ๐™–๐™จ ๐™™๐™ค๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™œ ๐™ค๐™ซ๐™š๐™ง ๐™ข๐™ฎ ๐™ก๐™ž๐™›๐™š, ๐™—๐™š๐™˜๐™–๐™ช๐™จ๐™š ๐™ค๐™› ๐™ฉ๐™๐™š ๐™จ๐™š๐™ก๐™› ๐™ฅ๐™ž๐™ฉ๐™ฎ ๐™„ ๐™ฌ๐™–๐™ฃ๐™ฉ๐™š๐™™ ๐™ฉ๐™ค ๐™›๐™š๐™š๐™ก ๐™›๐™ค๐™ง ๐™ข๐™ฎ๐™จ๐™š๐™ก๐™›.


Many know my recent story. Feel free to share this post/ blog because I think the lesson God taught me relates to many of us in marriage.


I had brain surgery on February 27th, and less than a week later (March 5th), after my surgery, I found myself at the ER for my husband. We came via ambulance. When we arrived, I had to tell every nurse and doctor - โ€œno, my husband isnโ€™t beating me- I just had brain surgery.โ€ I spoke to them with a black and blue neck (almost green in color), from the top of my head to my shoulders. I also had a black eye and swollen jaw, I was able to โ€œalmostโ€ hide my 16 staples in my head with my dirty hair. A family friend came, who sat by me as Chris moaned in pain and she whispered to me in her calm sarcastic humor, โ€œThis is unbelievable, I am watching him scream in pain and I look over at you and you have staples going across your headโ€... We just laughed!


When I ran out of the house to jump in the ambulance- I didnโ€™t race for my purse first- I raced to grab a ziplock bag of ice and threw it in a pillow case. My priorities (besides my kidโ€™s where-bouts) were icing my head if I was going to the ER for a few hours. I wasnโ€™t leaving my house without ice packs for my head.


Chrisโ€™ appendix ruptured. They actually let him sit for 10 hours before emergency surgery. I could write more on that and my bitterness gets going on what he went through and what he shouldnโ€™t have. It isnโ€™t necessary to speak of that though. I also have to say that the nurses were wonderful for our 7 day stay. The burst made him very sick. I didnโ€™t even realize how sick he was because they told me to go home and get rest, this was at the point they realized I had just had brain surgery and the visitorโ€™s chair wasnโ€™t going to cut it for my jaw/neck pain that night. They told me his surgery wonโ€™t be until tomorrow sometime, when the doctor could fit it into his schedule. They told me โ€œheโ€™s not an emergency.โ€ I felt weird about that and asked them if I could transfer Chris to another hospital for emergency surgery. I said this knowing our friends have an ambulance company which I would have called. At the mention of this, they talked very rude and down to me. I felt stupid. So, I followed the process. I went home at 12:30-1:00am. I woke to Chris telling me heโ€™s headed to surgery at 5:00am. I got to the hospital in time to watch him get wheeled back to the room all done. The night before they told me he would get his appendix out and go home that next day. When they wheeled him into me- I was like - โ€œwhat in the world?โ€ The doctor told me it was worse than they thought and it was in the top 10 worse heโ€™s seen.

That first day was a blur.


The next day I came back, and it was the first day since โ€œmy surgeryโ€ that I cleaned myself up. I wore make-up, did my hair all nice, and put jeans on. It was so surreal because a week earlier, they helped me walk for the first time with a physical therapist and only 4 days prior I had to have help showering and brushing my hair. The surgery recovery was still a new thing for me. I felt good though. I felt supernaturally strong, but I felt exhausted at the same time as I went to go to the hospital for Chris that next day.

I came into my husbandโ€™s room. He said, โ€œHi, you look pretty.โ€.... Aww cute, right? No. The moment I stepped foot into his room I became an instant wife nurse. The need for me to advocate, help him stand-up, sit-up, go to the restroom, sponge bath, wash his hair in the sink, cover his legs, re-adjust his 7 pillows, move the fan, hit the beeping buttons off the machines, help him walk the halls, help him fix the oxygen he was hooked too, help him ice his body (all the body parts- swollen), refill ice bags, help clean up his oozing drains, help wipe himself, help spoon the ice chips... These are just a few things Iโ€™ll mention.... It was overwhelming to me. I wanted to complain because I wanted to rest.


The first and second day I had to walk out of his room a few times as I was so overwhelmed!


This is whyโ€”->> my husband had not even asked me- โ€œhow do you feel today?โ€ Iโ€™m one week post brain surgery and heโ€™s been at my side 24/7 helping me, like an angel and now- heโ€™s gone. It was all about him the moment I walked into his hospital room... I was so sad. I felt supernaturally healed, and strong, but of course not 100%. I couldnโ€™t believe the morphine (and drugs he was on- even higher in strength) made him unaware to even say, โ€œhowโ€™s your head?โ€ I did not cry, but I did take a few gulps in my throat. It also happened to be around โ€œNational Womenโ€™s Dayโ€ over this period of our stay. All I thought of was Iโ€™m a stronger woman today because of the man in my life and now he canโ€™t even take care of me. Howโ€™s that for a strong womanโ€™s cry?


But like an electric shock,


The Lord checks my heart....


The Lord speaks to me:


โ€œWhy do you even consider if your husband asks how you are...... WHEN I MADE YOU WELL?โ€ .... Wow! Gulp.


Like a shovel smacked in the face - I feel humbled and sorry. How selfish to be so anointed in my own healing, but look for a negative hole because my flesh wants attention. And now I speak some hard truth. God shut those thoughts down really quick and the gratitude came back faster than the thought of feeling self pity. The moment I realized the miracle of my life after brian surgeryโ€”> Iโ€™m capable of being here to help him. Iโ€™m alive and well. Why am I feeling sorry for myself? ... That was the moment I became even stronger.


I told myself. โ€œYou are not a victim, girl!โ€ You are actually a product of the song you have been signing for a month now:


โ€œWay maker, miracle worker, promise Keeper, light in the darkness. My God, that is who you are.โ€


What a blessing to be a servant to my husband now with the unsurpassable blessing of healing that God put over me! So many prayers were cast over my life, hundreds of you prayed. How could I possibly sit in this room upset that my husband wasnโ€™t capable of asking me, โ€œHow are you feeling?โ€ He lay so completely ill. How silly I was. How blessed I was. Iโ€™m a testimony of His power.


So often, in marriage, we look to what our spouse provides us in terms of comfort and identity, rather than what God is extending us through His Grace. Sometimes our husbands are not capable of the goodness that ONLY GOD can bring us. Perhaps God allows this type of thing so we cling to Him the most? I know my husbandโ€™s intentions are for me, not against me. The Creator of the universe has healed me and not even the mishap of my husbandโ€™s emergency should remove that praise. Iโ€™m thankful God checked my heart that day. Bitterness, pity, despair- it robs us of all the good things The Lord does for us.


How often can we sit in our marriage and want more flattery to please our flesh rather looking at the strength or the blessings we already sit in as God grants us His continual attention, blessing and sustainability? Let my experience be a lesson. Let the one who designed marriage be the One who keeps it reconciled. Let the One who makes us well, keep us well.


He is so good.


You are not a victim, girl!!


Seek Jesus.


1 Peter 4:10 โ€œEach of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of Godโ€™s grace in its various forms.โ€


โ€ขโ€ข I posted this with the respectful permission of my husband. We are home and he is rapidly recovering.


Oh, & ๐™”๐™š๐™จ, ๐™๐™š ๐™–๐™จ๐™ ๐™จ ๐™ข๐™š ๐™๐™ค๐™ฌ ๐™„ ๐™–๐™ข ๐™ฃ๐™ค๐™ฌ๐Ÿ’–.

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