When protection turns into distance—and God uses it to realign what matters most.
It is 4am and I cannot sleep.
Certainly not because the house is loud, but because truth finally is.
Tom and I had a hard conversation yesterday. The kind that doesn’t stay on the surface. The kind that goes deeper than words and exposes what has been quietly building over time.
“Iron sharpens iron, and one person sharpens another.” — Proverbs 27:17
I have always loved that verse, but I am starting to understand something new.
Sharpening is not gentle.
It is friction.
It is pressure.
It is uncomfortable.
And sometimes, it feels like the wilderness.
The Conversation That Woke Me Up
Tom told me something that hurt—but it was honest. He was vulnerable and that is a super hero strength I respect. He feels like I have slowly put everything else before our relationship. The kids. The house. The animals. The responsibilities.
He feels like I have taken us for granted.
And the hardest part is… I can see how that happened.
Not because I stopped loving him.
But because I started surviving everything else.
Life got full. Responsibilities multiplied. And without realizing it, I began prioritizing what felt most urgent instead of what was most important.
Kids need things immediately.
The house gets messy quickly.
Work demands attention.
But marriage… marriage drifts quietly.
Why I Pulled Away
I didn’t wake up one day and decide to pull away.
It happened slowly.
And if I’m being honest, part of that distance was intentional.
I was protecting myself.
Tom processes life differently than I do. Where I try to see gratitude, he often sees what is lacking. Where I try to stay light, he can feel heavy.
And over time, I started to pull back—not out of rejection, but out of fear.
Fear of being pulled back into anxiety.
Fear of slipping into a dark place I have fought hard to climb out of.
Fear of losing myself.
So I created distance.
The Spiral No One Talks About
This is the pattern I can finally see clearly:
He feels something →
I withdraw to protect my peace →
He feels rejected →
He becomes heavier →
I pull further away →
And the cycle repeats
This is the part no one prepares you for.
How do you love someone deeply without losing yourself?
How do you stay steady when the person you love feels heavy?
What God Is Showing Me
I don’t think the answer is choosing between protecting myself or loving my husband.
I think the answer is order.
“For God is not a God of disorder but of peace.” — 1 Corinthians 14:33
Somewhere along the way, my life became ordered by urgency instead of intention. My desire for order was replaced by my need to stay away from conflict.
What screams the loudest gets my attention first.
But what is most important doesn’t always scream.
My marriage didn’t fall apart.
It drifted.
And now I see that my marriage is not separate from my calling—it is part of it.
My children are watching it.
My home is built on it.
My heart is shaped by it.
Strength Is Built Here
“Consider it a great joy… whenever you experience various trials, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance.” — James 1:2–4
This tension is not just a problem.
It is a process.
God is using it to refine me.
To realign me.
To strengthen something that I didn’t even realize was weakening.
What This Requires From Me
This kind of growth requires humility.
“With all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love.” — Ephesians 4:2
Humility is not weakness.
It is choosing to stay when it would be easier to withdraw.
It is choosing to listen when I want to defend.
It is choosing to lean in when my instinct is to pull away.
And vulnerability… that might be the bravest part of all.
Showing up without armor.
Without control.
Without certainty.
Just honest.
Where I Begin
I don’t have this all figured out.
But I do know this:
I don’t want to keep repeating the same cycle.
I don’t want distance to become normal.
And I don’t want fear to decide how I love my husband.
So this is where I begin.
Not with perfection.
But with intention.
To be steady instead of reactive.
To offer peace instead of pulling away.
To love in a way that is felt, not just assumed.
Not because it is easy.
But because it matters.
If You Feel This Too
Maybe you haven’t walked away.
Maybe you’ve just drifted.
Maybe what feels like tension isn’t something breaking…
but something being refined.
Where have you drifted?
What have you been protecting yourself from?
And what would it look like to realign—not perfectly, but intentionally?
This is the wilderness.
But we are not lost here.
We are being shaped.
Walking this out with you,
Jenn