Trust in the Balance

This will prove, once and for all, that I do more around here than he does!

I put down my pencil, paper, and calculator. My list is done, and I know my numbers are true.

Daniel — the Analytic/Melancholy — is still hard at work.

But I’ve spent at least a solid half hour, myself, checking and double checking.

Does it really take 2 hours to do the grocery shopping? Cut that down to 1.75, just in case.

I want to know, in my heart of hearts, that my numbers are neither inflated nor deflated.

Taking the cats to the vet takes longer than 45 minutes. Bump that up to a full hour.

Today, of all days, my Expressive/Sanguine penchant for exaggeration has no place.

How did we come to be sitting in the living room, furiously scribbling lists and assigning numbers?

Daniel and I married between our junior and senior years of college. So our first year of marriage was an amazing time of familiar, cocooned, easy bliss. We lived in married student housing together: just $100 per month to live in the gorgeous mountains above St. Helena, California!

We giddily adopted a puppy and two kittens together. We joyfully cooked all of our meals together in our phone booth sized kitchen. Oh yeah — and we went to classes together, studied together, and graduated together.

And then, reality hit.

Daniel was called to assist an evangelist in Southern California, and I was hired to teach 7th and 8th grade at small Christian school. We moved into a quaint 2-bedroom house, complete with front and back yards, and quickly added a second dog and third cat to our brood. Our togetherness became a fond memory: his work hours were noon ’til midnight, while mine were 6:00 AM ’til 6:00 PM.

Blame Games

Half way into this busy year of new jobs and new responsibilities, we were at each other’s throats: “You have no idea how much time I spend… You don’t put nearly as much effort into… You have no clue how much work it takes to…”

Finally, we hit on the idea of writing it all down. Nervousness over who will “win” is at least somewhat neutralized by relief that we’ll have some objective data to work with.

As Daniel re-checks his numbers and alphabetizes his list (!), I wrack my brain to see if I’ve forgotten anything that I do for the common good of the household.

It’s time for the grand unveiling. We’ve agreed to go through our lists item-by-item but save our total number of hours for last.

Daniel listens attentively as I go through my list. He is surprised by some of the things I do; other things he knows I do, but he never realized the time they take. The flip side is true when he shares his list. It becomes clear that we both work hard for “us.”

But do we work equally hard?

The Answer

We’re actually reluctant to share our total hours, now. We both feel like we’ve already learned so much — why ruin it by finding out who actually does spend more time? Trusting the process, we uncover our final numbers . . .

. . . and laugh uproariously! . . .

. . . at 44 1/2 hours.

44 1/2 hours is what Daniel has calculated. And 44 1/2 hours is what I’ve come up with. We do completely different things, but over the course of a month, we both invest 44 1/2 hours.

The lessons of that day have lasted for two decades.

Trust each other.

Trust in the balance built by our differences.

And trust God’s impeccable sense of humor!