R-E-S-P-E-C-T Find Out What It Means To Him

Shana Rishona: I sat in a dream-like haze, my cholent untouched, as my very own talmid chacham waxed brilliantly on this week’s parsha.  How had I merited to marry such a genius?

Fast forward twenty years…and here it comes again: time to clear the fish plates and serve the cholent. Look, I knew it was rude to get up just as he started his dvar Torah.  But if he hadn't recirculated the same idea every year for decades, I wouldn't have had to make a dash for the kitchen. 

But when my starry-eyed self turned into an eye-rolling grouch, I had to shift my gaze to myself. I knew the mantra: Hashem, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. But how do I accept the unacceptable?

Then I learned that I actually don’t need to accept him; I need to respect him.  LOL! That was even more far-fetched.  It was impossible to think of even one thing to respect. But respect is like oxygen for a man and mine felt suffocated, making it tough for him to think creatively.

So I started with acting as if. Cue the chumash coming to the table.  I stayed rooted in my seat. I put my fork down, turned my focus to my husband, and listened to what I knew by heart. It was tough, but if things didn't change, things wouldn't change. 

That was my first baby step toward respect.  Just listening to him instead of interrupting, contradicting, or correcting him - even if I knew better.  Staying silent required industrial-strength duct tape over my mouth.

It got easier over time, and I actually started to feel respectful. I don't have to like everything he says.  Listening quietly doesn't imply tacit agreement - it conveys respecting the fact that he is entitled to his own thoughts, ideas, and feelings. Just like I am. 

Nowadays, my husband breathes freely as we sit at the table. The temperature in the room is no longer frosty.  That warm fuzzy energy that came so easily year one is back. He’s the same guy, but my focus has changed.  Instead of seeing a bore, I am noticing someone who relentlessly injects our Shabbos seuda with kedusha.  And that is worth paying attention to.