A Shoe and a Lung

I owe this post to my good friend Elizabeth, who has been married for just over a year now. Thanks, girl.

On a weeknight this past spring, I sat down on an over-sat-on couch with some lovely ladies from my college bible study. Reaping all the marriage advice and wisdom I could, I asked Elizabeth how things were going in her own marriage, and how her relationship with her hubby had changed. This is my best memory of the response she gave:

“Well, when we were dating, Tony was kind of like a shoe. I could kick him off whenever I wanted to. But now, he’s kind of like a lung; he’s just a part of me. And I don’t really want to get rid of him.”

Though I doubt she realized it, this comment stuck.

Last week was the first time that I stayed at our house alone overnight. Thomas left earlier that morning to visit some friends up school, and being by myself was definitely different. Though I spent some of the evening with my parents, I watched the skies darken behind windows by myself, and I felt something was missing. I’ve gotten used to someone occupying the living room desk and leaving a stray coffee mug on the table. It was the first time I got a taste of what the whole shoe vs. lung thing meant.

Absolutely, we still need our space. That’s for certain. But I’m learning what it looks like to function as a unit and make him a lung.

Any more quirky marriage metaphors out there?