One Date Changed Everything – The Bedroom

fields of lavender

The lavender fog had followed us into the bedroom. I hadn’t been here since I filled a duffle bag with clothes and moved out. The unnatural tragedy of that day still echoed in the room and in my heart today, and I needed reassurance. I had resolutely refused to manipulate my way back into her life, and I was worried this might be perceived in that light.

Yes, she was technically my wife. So, yes, we could technically do anything we wanted. But Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 10:23 ran through my mind as she climbed backward on the bed, her eyes at ease but focused intently on mine. This was lawful, but was it helpful. Was she sure she wanted this?

She was fully opened, fully trusting, fully aware, fully accepting, and fully inviting.

I followed her onto the bed but not on top of her like I wanted. I immediately became aware of the smell. These were her sheets on her bed. Every rustle of fabric weaved the smell of her into the lavender in the air, creating an intoxicating aroma that tugged on my heartstrings even as she tugged me closer.

I forget how many times I asked for reassurance, almost bordering on discouraging the situation. Which would really surprise you, if you knew my history of taking full advantage of any such situation. I remember the vulnerable honesty brimming in her eyes as she answered me, as she beckoned me.

In her eyes, I saw no fear, no weakness, no questioning. There was no anger, no resentment, no frustration. I could find no despair, no ignorance, and not even a sliver of doubt.

In her eyes, I saw transparency all the way to her soul. She was fully opened, fully trusting, fully aware, fully accepting, and fully inviting.

I need this, her soul whispered.

And I realized that her soul needed the same treatment I’d come today to give her feet. She needed to be loved; patiently, tenderly, truly loved. And looking inside, I saw that I needed to love her.

What followed was wonderful, and I hesitate to write the details of the story myself because I fear I would do it more of a disservice. My wife’s memories of that time are vivid, so perhaps she will tell the tale. But I can say two things for certain.

First, as I positioned myself between her legs, I hesitated one last time, asking for a final confirmation before we actually began. I wanted to give a clear, final notice that we could stop — despite whatever her thighs had unleashed on my sex drive — that this was for us and not for sex, and if what was good for us wasn’t sex, then I didn’t want it. Well, at least not as much as I wanted us. She agreed, even insisted, and we began making love from a place of mutual vulnerability, respect, and acceptance.

Second, I remembered this was all about her. Don’t get your theological panties in a wad when I say this, but I worshipped her. That’s the most apt word for what took place. This almost leisurely lovemaking was all about cherishing her body and nourishing her soul. There was no hurry. There were no distractions. This was me giving myself fully to making her feel like the most important person in the world, because she was the most important person in the world. Bar none. We merged more intimately than ever before. No kiss went unsavored, and no caress lacked delight.

After, we had no haste to clothe ourselves or leave each other’s presence, like we might have at times in the past. And unlike the times we’d made love prior to our marriage, we felt no pangs of conviction for sin. We felt something remotely akin to shame, but it was more a mild chagrin at failing to meet our own expectations of ourselves than any guilt over what we’d done. I think we both saw a mutual need for what had happened.

However, after we lay there talking a while, we also recognized a mutual need for boundaries to prevent this from happening again before its due time. We still had much to do if we were going to get our reconciliation right, and neither of us wanted to risk interfering with true progress just for sex. Even if it was that amazing. We would be patient, because we were worth it.

So how did this date change everything? Well, it certainly wasn’t that we used up all the lavender oil. So what was it?

  • We made the most pure, untarnished love ever, truly coming together as one flesh and knowing each other, but that’s not it.
  • I’ve never lost my taste for her thighs — if anything, it’s only deepened over the years. I’m truly a leg man, now. It’s a big change, but that’s not it either.
  • It even marked a major turning point in our reconciliation process, paving the way for the healthy marriage that exists today. Yet not even that was the life-changer.

On their own, any of these could be life changing purely due to its intensity. I mean, I really like her thighs. But the change was so much bigger than all that. And it’s best seen in the opening words of Genesis 4:

Today, our eldest is a lifelong reminder that in a cloud of lavender one day, she set aside her insecurities as I set aside my agendas, and we became one flesh like never before.

And Adam knew Eve his wife; and she conceived…

Our first child was born roughly forty weeks later, as if God wanted to commemorate the budding health in our marriage with a tangible gift. After trying to become pregnant without success for a couple years prior to the events that choked the life out of our marriage, this one moment was all it took.

Today, our eldest is a lifelong reminder that in a cloud of lavender one day, she set aside her insecurities as I set aside my agendas, and we became one flesh like never before.

She still looks back on that date as one of the best — if not the best — lovemaking session we’ve had. Yet it was unplanned; we accidentally but thoroughly seduced each other, just by being real and being vulnerable.

And it all started with an honest desire to do what I was simply called to do. Cherish and nourish.

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About Phil (251 Articles)
Philip Osgood is a Christian husband, father, and writer who considers himself a passable video game player, fiction reader, camping and hiking enthusiast, welder, computer guy, and fitness aficionado, though real experts in each field might just die of laughter to hear him claim it. He has been called snarky, cynical, intelligent, eccentric, creative, logical, and Steve for some reason. Phil and his beautiful wife Clara live in Texas with their children in a house with a dog but no white picket fence. He does own a titanium spork from ThinkGeek, though, so he must be alright.