As iron sharpens iron.

Photo by Grant Blakeman.

“That is so gross,” I said last night with wide eyes, eyelids strained to hold back tears. We were having an argument, and my husband retreated, shocked both by my emotion and response to his statement. Of course, “gross” isn’t the most mature or expressive word to communicate my feelings when I strongly disagree, but it sure beats the stomping around I did when we were first married a year ago.

That stomping came about during a discussion on First Amendment rights and messages we disagree with advertised on buses. Then at the peak of Obama vs. McCain, we claimed different rooms in the house; he IM’d with his friends his thoughts and I facebook status’d mine. When we came together, exchanging quips, we quickly separated again to our separate quarters. Other arguments since then have included Islam, women in leadership in the Church, poop and a variety of different “-ares” — healthcare, welfare, canned pears, home repairs.

These are things you’re supposed to struggle through. Except maybe the canned pears (which are delicious). And for the political/social/important issues, I admit I don’t have all the answers. But the answers I do have are right.

As iron sharpens iron, so does my husband annoy me in the little details. And these are our most adamant arguments: the nutritional value of corn (slim to none), how to fold a towel (in thirds, not halves) and whether to cook instant macaroni and cheese according to directions or with only the powder (duh).

So as we celebrate our one-year anniversary next week, I’m so thankful I get to cry through “gross” religious conversations with my best friend. And teach him the proper way to fold laundry. And give him the chance to convince me how to make mac’n cheese (oh, please).