Sacrificing for each other a beautiful, confusing thing
She hears word that her husband's favorite band is coming to town. She tells him. He's pumped, investigates tickets, and finds that the concert date lands on his wife's birthday. And just like that, he elects not to go. When she asks him about it a few days later, he says he's not going, because it's her birthday.
"Whhaaatt?" she says. "Of course you're going to go!"
"It's your birthday," he says.
"We can celebrate my birthday anytime," she counters.
And so it goes. Both disconcerted, impatient with the other. He even suggests that the reason he won't attend the concert is because she might give him permission and encouragement to go, but later bring back some harbored resentment about him subordinating her birthday in favor of rock 'n' roll. But that might be a ruse on his part, given that there is no historical precedent in the marriage for her behaving that way.
There is, of course, an endless list of issues over which a committed couple might stumble. Get frustrated. Hurt. Angry. But there is one issue on that list that makes me smile. While it has every potential to be confusing and painful, it is, in its own way, dear. It speaks to everything that is good and beautiful about the relationship.
Sometimes couples stumble over the question of whose turn it is to be generous, loving and sacrificial. And, part of the confusion is they don't even realize it's something beautiful over which they have stumbled.
She's a huge Pittsburgh Steelers fan. And she's in a long-distance relationship. Hardly minutes after the Steelers beat the Jets for the AFC title, her boyfriend calls to encourage her to go to Dallas to see the title game. She's incredulous, reminding him that Super Bowl weekend is their next scheduled time to be together, and that she's already quite sick and tired of the length of time they've been apart. He says the Super Bowl is a once in a lifetime chance. She tries to explain that he is a once in a lifetime chance, too, and more important to her than the Pittsburgh Steelers.
He is trying to give her a sacrificial gift. But all she hears is that he doesn't particularly care when they are together next.
She is trying to give him a sacrificial gift. But he doesn't hear it, so pleased is he to be so generously offering his gift.
Interesting, huh? A loving couple arguing over 1) whose turn it is to love the other, and 2) why is it my partner isn't willing to let that in?
And that's just it. Say all you want about some spiritual ideal of "selfless giving," but, in the end, most normal human beings do have at least one agenda when they give something they value to the beloved: They want the beloved to squeal with joy, surprise and appreciation. I guess I'm saying that one of the greatest joys of being selfless is that, in the end, it's not selfless at all! You want to bask in the knowledge that you've just made your beloved feel loved. To love being in the center of your universe. And you want them to want to be in the center of your universe.
It's a collision of love. Yes, it's potentially frustrating. It can even render hurt feelings. But there's something beautiful going on. It reminds me of the short story "The Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry (1906). Delia and Jim are a young married couple who can't afford Christmas gifts for each other. So Delia cuts her knee-length hair and sells it to a wig maker. With the money, she buys her husband a chain for his heirloom pocket watch. Jim, meanwhile, sells his pocket watch. With the money, he buys her combs made of tortoise shell and jewels for her beautiful hair.
Ouch. Pathos abounds.
Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Clear View Counseling Wellness Center in Las Vegas and the author of "Human Matters: Wise and Witty Counsel on Relationships, Parenting, Grief and Doing the Right Thing" (Stephens Press). His columns appear on Sundays. Contact him at skalas@reviewjournal.com.
