Am I Willing?

Note from Nancy B

Missing Pages: A Common Woman's Uncommon Hope is in my editor's capable hands for the next few months. In the meantime, we are building a Tennesse retirement home and loving our new community. Join me as I offer more stories for you to read and comment on. Please know that God gives you hope for your future. 

Am I Willing?

“You must be more willing to listen,” my husband, John, states with a slight edge of frustration. His patience with me is impressive when I think out loud. His economy of language frustrates me because he processes thoughts internally. He deliberates, I react, and opposites always attract.

In my frustration, I grow impatient and resist John’s preferences. I balk when he says I need to be more willing to listen. 

“I listen to you! Can’t I express my opinion?”

He thinks logically, going from A to B to C without hesitation. My wordy spaghetti logic takes the journey from A to F, then back to C and straight to Z. But he continues to listen actively and hears my heart among all the words. I learn to speak logically and succinctly, halting impulsive reactions.

Our discussion centers around the type of cooktop we want for our new home; an electric, gas or induction cooktop. He wants the functionality of induction. It allows rapid heating while leaving the surface cool after removing the boiling pot. I prefer a gas cooktop, but the gas by-products aggravate John’s breathing. His health concerns make choosing induction cooking logical. John wants all the knobs, gauges and beeps. He couldn’t care less about the cooktop’s finish. I want it to look beautiful. Aesthetics over function drives my choices. 

All week long, John’s statement about my willingness bounced around in my head.

I envision a triangle with the facts and emotions on the bottom that fuel the decision at the top. Will I willingly cooperate to take the facts and feelings into consideration? Or will I resist and argue in the decision-making process? Whether I am willing or resistant during the decision-making process depends upon the importance of the decision’s outcome. I am eager to be congenial when John doesn’t care about the color of the flowers I want to plant in front of the apartment. Our discussion may get heated if I want to spend more flower money than he thinks is necessary. If he wants to buy an expensive woodworking tool, I may be resistant because the purchase impacts the funds available to buy the things I like.

Generally, women spend money to have experiences and build relationships, i.e., vacations and home decorations. Men spend money on big-ticket items to do things, i.e., fishing boats or a band saw. 

Within several years of marriage, John and I take the kids on our first family camping trip to Six Flags Over America in Missouri. Back then, we don’t talk about our expectations of money. He works, I take care of the children and our house, and I spend “his” money on things he thinks are frivolous. Tupperware is not frivolous!

The “deely-bopper incident of 1981” stands out as our wake-up call over the differences we hold spending money. I have high expectations for a fun family day and disregard John’s worry about the expenses. A deely bopper is a 1980s novelty item of headgear with two springy antennae. 

“Mom, can I have a deely bopper? They are so cool,” Rachel, my daughter, shouts. 

“Hmm? Do all three of you want one?” I ask.

“Yeah, I want one,” my youngest, Andy, says as he jumps up and down.

“Me too,” says Eric, the oldest. He’s eight going on sixteen, but the fun headgear draws out his fun-loving child. I turn to John.

“John, I know we spent more than we expected on lunch. But can the kids buy these?” In 1980, thirty dollars for lunch for a family of five was exorbitant. We aren’t prepared for the expense of the whole day.

John thinks spending six dollars on three deely boppers is wasteful and refuses to spend the money.  

With his head down, John says, “No, they don’t need them. I don’t want to run out of money on this trip.” We had no debit or credit cards, only traveler's checks. Once they are gone, we are out of money.

He is a killjoy, and I tell him so.

“They’re only two dollars apiece. Six dollars isn’t going to break your bank,” I say sarcastically.

We exchange more sharp words until he gives into my emotional pressure. This exchange colors our whole vacation. He sits in his camping chair, silent and pouting, reading a book while the kids and I play games at the picnic table. Today, we laugh about the deely boppers, but it was an eye-opening conflict born of uncommunicated expectations. 

Many years later, we attended a free finance class at our church and learned to communicate before events like the “deely bopper incident.” In this class, we receive valuable and practical information to apply in the years ahead. This advice helps us avoid squabbling over the use of money.

One of our homework assignments is to track all our spending during the week and bring the record to class. The spending tracking helps us establish a budget as a framework to build a secure financial future. One suggestion we put into place changes our future discussions on spending. We give each other a discretionary allowance for clothing and hobbies, starting with a whopping twenty dollars per month. Allowances give us the freedom to spend without having to justify our purchases. Anything else is a budgeted item, like postage stamps, vacations and savings. This budgeting system increases our willingness to listen to each other as we discuss finances. 

With all the home-building decisions we currently face, I strive to be a willing participant, neither a doormat nor an obstructionist. Difficult choices to reach an agreement become future touchstones to remember how we worked together with God’s help. Our cooperative but imperfect partnership in building a home will bring sweet memories for the future, even with the occasional deely bopper-type discussions. 

Willingness ensures a smoother process. Resistance does not. 

II Timothy 2:7 says, “Consider what I say, for the Lord will give you understanding.”