Conflict Resolution

There is a definition and a rule that we heard somewhere years ago, that a fight is over when you can both laugh about it, and that you should not talk to other people in a social setting (as opposed to a counseling setting) until it's over. In this blog (which is more social than counseling) I am disobeying that rule.

We had home group a few days ago, where we are talking about conflict resolution. I shared about how I have learned in our 20+ years of resolving conflict to wait until a good time to talk about something that is bothering me until my husband is ready to talk. For him, these moments are few and far between. He is primarily a man of function, not feeling. He has things to do, important things that need done and he is the only one to do them. He pays the bills, does our taxes (I owed the city $4.00 this year), writes my hardship letter to get out of jury duty, fills out adoption and birth certificate paperwork, changes light bulbs, and cleans the lint off the dryer vent (keeping our house from catching on fire).

Most of what he does is unappreciated by anyone, but is necessary and critical. In addition to all those types of things, he also works, and works hard. He puts in more time than is necessary to do a better job than is required. He is a team player, picking up others' slack if necessary, because it needs done. His boss is a tough and tiny woman from China, and they compliment each other well, with her intensity and fire and his peaceful strength. Often in the evenings there are conference calls, reviews to do, and emails to catch up on.

The computer is a big part of his job, and is also part of how he winds down when work is over. He enjoys what I call putzing, researching future gadget purchases, reading reviews, watching the best of youtube, reading on-line news. And we often can't tell if he is paying bills, catching up on work e-mail, or just messing around. It is an impenetrable wall of focus and concentration, one not easily mounted.

One of my favorite horrible things to say is, when there is chaos and babies are screaming all around, diapers needing changing, a child has just lost a limb, another is weeping of a broken heart, and the man is still sitting there, typing, working, reading, whatever, and looks up and asks, "What? What's wrong?", I quote Woody from Toy Story, "Nothing that concerns you spacemen, just us toys!"

The thing I have learned (but don't always abide by) is that in a conflict with my husband, I can build my house, or tear it down. With my words, with my actions, with my tone of voice, I can make this a happy home and a strong relationship, or I can make it ugly and burdensome and painful.

So, having given this stellar piece of advice at home group on one day, I spent the next two days ignoring it. Oh I didn't lay into him, like I felt like doing. But I fumed, stormed, and nearly ate myself sick. We weren't on the same page in an area of parenting. He thought I was making too big a deal of it, I thought he had his head up his butt. An area we had previously seen eye to eye about was now, somehow, up for grabs, and in case of a jump ball here, he wins.

Part of the problem was that I lacked some information in the initial conflict. Also a factor is that in my first attempt to resolve I disobeyed two of our cardinal rules of engagement. One, we do not do well on the phone. If our relationship was limited to phone conversations, we would not last. Two, I was talking to him while he was on the phone AND on the laptop AND watching a ball game. I had, maybe, a 10th of his attention. What a joke! But I pursued it, and it was a belly flop.

The hard part of this philosophy of honoring my husband by waiting until he is ready to talk is that HE ISN'T READY TO TALK AS MUCH AS I WANT HIM TO BE! He isn't anywhere near as big a talker as I am. Heck, part of why I have this blog is because I want to talk more than anyone wants to listen. I have always had a larger than typical friend base because I talk more than a normal selection of friends has the time or patience to listen to. I am a verbal processor on an extreme level and no one has enough time to listen to me think things through.

So this conflict resolution thing is a tough one because we (like most, if not all, married couples) have irreconcilable differences. I have described my hardship with him, but his hardships with me are many, and much more difficult. A man who grew up in an immaculate house now is dwelling in a pig sty. Oh, we get it cleaner every few days, but I know that most people would be horrified if their house got as messy as ours is when it is clean. The clutter could drive a neat freak crazy, the dirt could drive a germaphobe off a bridge.

And then there are all the side effects of having 12 children. If we limit everyone to 3 pair of shoes, that is still 72 shoes floating around. There are 24 jackets and coats. We get at least a hundred new toys every Christmas. We have 7 matching barstools in the kitchen, and another that is broken, and another that doesn't match or have a back but the kids fight over. The kids routinely move several of these into the dining room, where there are 12 chairs, 6 strong metal ones, 3 remaining from our dining room set (one has lost the back), 2 hand-me-down wooden ones most of us are afraid to sit on, and one brown chair we stole from the church. The children like to watch each other play on the computer, so they create a veritable traffic jam of kitchen and dining room chairs, a cross between an amphitheater and a junkyard. Also in the kitchen/dining room are a high chair, a kiddie table with two chairs, a happy seat (stationary walker thing) and two pumpkin seats to kick your way through. To top it all off, at the end of the dining room table, where Dad likes to set up his laptop, there is just enough space between his chair and the wall for small children to run pell-mell through and pull his power cord out of the wall and drive the man, who always takes perfect care of his stuff, bonkers.

And that's just one part of the house. We live in a land mine for a peace loving man like him, one who likes to have a place for everything and everything in its place.

My way and his way are not the same way. How can two be one, who are so very different? Only Jesus can do this thing. I've said this before (redundancy is a way of life for me) parting the Red Sea, walking on water, turning water into wine, healing the sick, raising the dead - these are all child's play compared to the miracle of unity.

Jesus meets my needs. He will meet my needs. He will sometimes do it through my husband. But Jesus, not husband, is my source. He will heal my heart. He will help me to forgive. He will give us wisdom about parenting our children. He is never tired of hearing me talk. He doesn't mind that I have told this story before. He is not busy or in a bad mood or tired. He even sees the beauty of the clutter of my world, and He will give me the courage to try again to honor my husband by cleaning it. And at the same time, He will give my husband still more patience as he faithfully walks through life with me.