I was right.Image

Once.

No, really, stop laughing. I really was.

It happened quite a few years ago, and although I don’t remember exactly what I was right about, what I do remember is that Heather had done something that had caused me a lot of pain and she knew it, and she was in the wrong and I knew it.

I remember being hurt.

I remember being right.

I remember the drive to work and how I was going to revel in the fact that I was right. She was going to have to apologize to me, she was going to have to make me feel better.

The funny thing is is that it wasn’t that she was wrong that really mattered. Sure, that was a bonus, but it was that she was wrong and I was right, and she knew it. Those things, combined, made for a beautifully defensible position for me, able to not only feel hurt, but to be justified in that hurt.

It felt good to be in that place. To know I wasn’t the one who made the mistake. That I wasn’t the one who had to make things right. That it was all her fault and I could just relish in the irony of our switched positions.

I sat at my desk, smug, feeding off the flavor of the oncoming apology that she would have to accommodate.

It was glorious.

Then she called.

Her voice meek, I could hear in her voice how she knew she was wrong. In my pride, I glowered over her. I stood atop my wall, and watched as she tried to scale my unassailable battlements with her attempts to make things right.

I scoffed in my head, “Not good enough.”

She hung up.

I gloated.

I gloated to God.

He… well, He was not amused.

In my hurt, I forgot a few things, and He was very quick to remind me of them when I turned to Him to boost of my pain.

He reminded me that I was to protect my wife. He reminded me that I was to honor her. He reminded me that I was to be willing to die for her to make sure she was ok. He reminded me that sacrifice comes at a great cost to ourselves.

Then, he finalized His correction of me by saying one simple phrase that I have never forgotten.

“The more right you are, the more wrong you become.”

Pride has a funny way of making us forget about the ones we are suppose to love. It makes us look at them through the lenses of hurt, rage, hate, fear, anger… and that’s exactly what I was doing.

I really didn’t want to hear that, I didn’t want to be wrong… so I argued.

He didn’t argue, He just reminded me of my vows..

Love.

Honor.

Cherish.

I tried to hold onto my anger, I tried to hold onto my rage, but I knew I was fighting a losing battle, not because I was failing or wrong, but because I was right.

That’s a different kind of losing.

And then…

as if my argument with God wasn’t going badly enough, my wife sent me a basket full of candy to say she was sorry…

and right in the middle of the basket was a bag of Swedish Fish, one of my favorite candies. I could tell she went out of her way to buy those and add them to the basket, and that in that simple gesture she was holding truer to our vows then I was.

That day, I learned some valuable lessons about marriage.

First, just because you are right does not mean you can lord it over someone to your own ends. All it does is make you a jerk and more wrong then you could ever imagine.

Secondly, Heather is never wrong, even when she is.. she is never wrong.

Thirdly, never underestimate the power of Swedish Fish when apologizing to me.

Lastly, God totally doesn’t fight fair.

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