My love language is “words of affirmation.” My husbands are “acts of service” and “physical touch.”
When he tells me I’m doing a good job (at whatever it may be), my tail starts to wag. I feel loved and appreciated. But if I affirm him with words, it doesn’t have the same effect. I’m not speaking his language.
Putting gas in his car, rolling out the trash, rubbing his back; these things make him feel loved. These are not unrealistic expectations, yet I struggle with them. I can be straight-up lazy, and I enjoy my own dance space.
When I don’t get what I need, I get crabby and start copping resentments. Then he gets annoyed because his needs aren’t being met. It’s a sucky self-centered cycle.
God usually steps in, renewing my mind to a perspective that is not self-seeking, but sacrificial. And you know what? When I choose to speak fluently in his language (even if I’m still not feeling it), I’m almost always blessed by it. I can’t really explain it, other than a supernatural feeling of contentment and joy.
Our greatest command is to love one another. Who better to practice on than the person you’re going to spend the rest of your life with.
What is your love language?