What I like about you...

Eric's a good leader.

One thing he suggested we do, right from the beginning, was to end each night by saying some specific thing that we liked about the other person that day.

Sounds funny. Cheesy? Maybe. Forced? OK. I kind of worried all that, too.

But I really think it's been a blessing for us.

First, it's taught me to love in a new way. One of Eric's ways he communicates love--romantic or brotherly or otherwise--is through words. He's constantly affirming, forever encouraging. Good, helpful, edifying words drop from his mouth a lot. They're not flippant. They're not disingenuous, not insincere. In short, this isn't flattery I'm talking about. It's real, and it builds up.

I struggle with words. I often want to tell someone how great I think they're doing, or how much I appreciate them, but I get nervous and the words never come out right. I don't want to embarrass them, put them on the spot. I show love by trying to silently help the person out--serving them in some way, preferably unnoticed--or by finding a little special gift or meeting a small need, and avoiding eye contact while praying they don't dare to thank me for it.

That's awkward attention for me. I got annoyed at Pattie in Africa for thanking me too much. Poor Pattie. How absurd does that seem?

So, you see, I struggle to give and to receive in words. And, trust me, it's not that I don't have a lot to say. Some of you have experienced my awkwardness when I try to communicate with words. It normally ends in muttering and a panicked look on my face, paralyzed by fear that the person will think I'm a fool for saying anything.

And receiving is worse. I don't like to be the center of attention. I don't know what to do when someone compliments me. (Rumor has it, you simply say "Thank you." Curious.) I don't want that kind of focus. I don't know what to say. Cue the muttering, mumbling social awkwardness. I'd rather plug my ears to compliments, for whatever reason.

Having to not only voice every night those things I'm thinking about how great Eric is, but also to squirm uncomfortably while he tells me what he likes about me... That forces a girl like me to grow. And so I'm becoming more capable in the love language of words. And I think we're both better for it.

But, there's more--I think this "What I like about you today..." game has kept us from the sin of going to bed angry, or from letting things fester too long. Trust me, there have been nights when I couldn't think of even one simple thing I liked about that man, because I was angry, or I was hurt, or I was impatient.

But you're forced to dig; you're forced to remember who it is that's sitting across from you--the one God created for you, the one you generally enjoy being around so much, the one who is still going to be there tomorrow. Many nights, being forced out of my selfish view like that has been the thing to send cracks through the walls I'd put up between us--walls built in defense, in anger, in whatever.

And those nights, a lot of times my "What I like about you today..." includes that Eric is such a good leader, to have the foresight to make this a habit and the discipline to do it even when we least want to.