I'm sore in muscles I didn't even know existed.

My husband is an arborist, and his job involves tree care and a lot of tree removals. There hasn't been enough work for him or his coworkers this winter, so he's been the "house spouse" since Thanksgiving. But since he's likely to be called back in to work in the next few weeks, and I have a friend who needs a few trees removed from her backyard, it seemed like the right time to get him ready for the rigors of his job by volunteering to help him with these tree removals.

I'm not really sure what I thought I was going to do Saturday to help, especially since my only experience with tree work was to watch Jeremy trim the huge elms next door last fall (a neighbor and I pulled up chairs on the driveway and watched — it's really amazing to behold). I suppose I thought I'd respond to things like "Would you please hand me the pole saw" or "If I fall making this cut, call an ambulance."

Instead, I got to play the part of a groundsman, tossing ropes up to him in the tree, guiding tree sections to a narrow drop zone (between a fence and some electrical wires) by pulling on the rope tied to the trunk while Jeremy notched and cut that part of the tree, crawling over and falling into the dead branches that were strewn about the base of the tree (imagine 1,000 rakes being dropped like pick-up sticks; now walk on top of them to get something lying in the middle of them—you're going to step on something somewhere that causes a rake handle to fly up and smack you), glaring incredulously and refusing to heed the instructions "Just toss the pole saw up to me, and I'll catch it" (who in their right mind throws a saw in the air?!).

He probably could have finished all the removals if he'd had a more experienced (and less wimpy, and better prepared) groundsman, but Jeremy was patient and sympathetic the whole morning. After I got hit in the face with a branch (seriously, it was like walking in a bed of rakes) after falling into more deadwood, I began to realize that this is why he comes home so tired. Rather than getting irritated at having to be more involved than I'd planned (or dressed for), I figured this was my chance to go beyond the watch-your-husband-at-work day I'd experienced in September and instead walk a mile in his boots in a kind of take-your-wife-to-work day. Because while I could imagine what it was like for him to do his job, I didn't really know how he actually felt at the end of the day.

That afternoon, Jeremy urged me to take antacids to keep me from feeling too sore the next few days, but I refused. I wanted to remember how it feels to be him. I wanted to be able to sympathize with him, the way that Christ is able to sympathize with us (Hebrews 4:15).

It's a few days later now. My bruises are beginning to fade. The scratches are starting to heal. My muscles are still aching in places I didn't expect. But I feel I know my husband better — how taxing his work is, what dangers he faces, the satisfaction of tree care well done. I know where to rub his back, and I understand why he doesn't feel like taking dance classes during the busy season. And that makes it worth every bump, bruise, abrasion and ache.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but the mouse almost won. Here’s what happened …

My wife has her master’s degree in education and a lot of teaching experience. I have a degree in science with many years of research practice. Therein rests a problem: We’re both very good at what we do, and we both assume “expert” status when seated at the Computer Throne.

You can almost smell the aroma of harmonious bliss wafting through the air, like freshly baked cookies, as we lovingly pursue Web searches together, can’t you?

Um, maybe not.

Our shared computer time can be more like a violent scene from Lord of the Rings. Whoever’s in control of the mouse -- “My Precious” -- controls the computer. Violence, treachery, scratching, biting, flying pencils and angry chases too often result from our individual efforts to control the mouse; meanwhile, the Eye of Google slowly scans the horizon for another victim …

Several weeks ago, we needed some information from the Web quickly. My wife beat me to the Computer Throne, but I crouched over her like a giant, dopey spider. She searched -- her way -- for the information. My way was quicker, of course, so I tried to take control of the mouse. I used the Abrupt-Snatch technique. Can you believe, she bit me on the forearm?!

Justice had to be served for her juvenile expression of anger. So, I gave her a very mature noogie-scrub on the head. She launched from the Computer Throne and a chase took us into the living room.

Here’s the great irony. Our kids were watching their parents … act like kids! Eventually, everyone broke out in laughter (and humility) when we realized the goofy drama being played out. Blame the mouse!

Seems silly, doesn’t it? We’re pursuing the same thing, but we just have different ways of finding it. As husbands and wives, we can be somewhat intolerant of our spouse’s “ways,” even though we both arrive at the same end. This is such a vivid picture of marriage as a whole.

Our story is not distinct. Many couples -- including my own parents, who have been married nearly 50 years -- have knock-down-drag-out fights when trying to work on the same computer at the same time for the same purpose.

Back on the battlefield of the Mouse Wars, we really needed to initiate a new plan to make our “unified effort” on the computer a peaceful, loving and enjoyable experience. What plan did we initiate to resolve the Mouse Wars?

One of us had to willingly surrender the mouse (control) to the other person before peace could prevail. Since we were at home, in my wife’s “domain” and area of care, I decided to give up the mouse (while biting a large stick). I even rubbed my wife’s tense shoulders while she found the information, as a gesture of goodwill (yes, I had to look at the ceiling a couple of times). It actually worked! We talked, while she searched -- her way.

If we’d been in my place of work, or in my “domain,” I’d have expected her to withdraw and let me perform the search. Mutual respect. And now that we've recently purchased a second computer, the Mouse Wars erupt even less frequently. I recall learning this same lesson in the Elementary School lunch line: Be kind, considerate and wait your turn. (And let girls go first.)

Don’t let the mouse nibble on your marriage -- you can win this war! But just remember, there is one mouse for one reason: one user. Here’s to successful, “joint-effort” Internet searches!

I was watching the Olympics bobsledding competition the other night and got to wondering, "What exactly are the qualifications for the person/people that sit in the back?"

It looked like the "back seaters" had some awesome calves for the two to four second start, but after that ... what? It appeared (to me, at least) that they just sit in the back, heads tucked, for the entire ride. That the entire race was dependent upon the skill of the driver.

Since I know absolutely nothing about bobsledding, I'm sure I'm wrong. There may, and probably is, much more to the "back of the bobsled" person's job than what I see. But I also got to thinking (because I'm weird that way) about submission.

I think when nonbelievers, and even some believers, hear about biblical passages such as Ephesians 5 or Colossians 3 or 1 Peter 3 where wives are called upon to submit to their husbands they think of my version of bobsledding. The wife is just along for the ride. The husband drives with his head facing forward, not worrying about those in the back as long as they have their heads tucked.

But I've learned after more than a decade of marriage, that submission doesn't really look like that at all. With apologies to those who aren't figure skating fans, I've found submission to be much closer to pairs skating. We're face to face, engaging each other. We're communicating, practicing, perfecting (or, in our case, leaning upon the Lord to perfect us). But there are still definite roles. His is to lead our family. Mine is to support that leadership.

That support may look different in different situations. Sometimes helping. Sometimes advising. Sometimes listening. Sometimes gently challenging. But always affirming that the only way for this dance to work is for us to be intentionally engaging each other and to embrace, rather than fight, our God-given roles. It's not about being in the back seat with no control over where this crazy, out-of-control thing goes. Instead, it's face to face, with (metaphorically) hands clasped and his arm around my waist, mine upon his shoulder.

The post-wedding weight has arrived. Before Christmas, I wrote about the topic of marriage and weight gain. You can't tell me I wasn't warned. Well, it's here ... my post-wedding 10 is making my pants fit uncomfortably snug. I felt a little better the other day after talking to a friend. She, too, had put on some weight after marriage. "I was eating the same portions as my husband was, and we usually ate late at night."

My husband, Kevin, and I haven't succeeded at establishing any super-healthy habits yet. We love spending time together. And during the heart of winter when outside activites are not an option, and with varying work hours that prevent us from going to the gym together, getting fit seems ... well ... hard. So, at the moment, I'm focusing on healthy eating.

Have you run into this problem (a problem, ironically, caused by lack of running)? How can you get motivated together to establish healthy eating and exercise habits? What things work for busy couples?

It began as a normal weekend. The chaos of previous weeks had to be reigned in and contained before Monday launched yet another flurry of pandemonium.

Daunting mountains of laundry seemed to touch the clouds, and dishes were crawling out of our sink. Yes, we'd been negligent and today we would pay for our laziness and out-of-control life.

The unbalanced washing machine was churning an oversized load. Whompa-thump! Whompa-thump! Whompa-thump! BOOM!!!

A canon must have exploded! We ran to the back room to find a brand new, giant-sized, jug of liquid laundry detergent shattered on the floor. It had been shaken off an overcrowded shelf. Thick, blue, goo oozed under the washer and dryer. A wave surged into the bathroom and blue fingers crept onto the kitchen floor. Our jaws dropped, a spark ignited and an explosion ensued.

In eight seconds flat, I saw furious RED!

It was HER fault! My wife had shoved the new tub of detergent onto the over-stuffed shelf and it fell off. (We won't mention that it fell because the bumping, off-balance wash machine hadn't been fixed by me, yet. That's beside the point.) Yes, it was my wife's fault; I was convinced – right or wrong. Ever played the Blame Game? Guilty as charged.

My temper vaulted well beyond the stratosphere and into Galaxy Oblivion. The War was on!  This blue, oozing disaster would take a good half day to clean, if not more. For the LOVE OF PETE!!!

We not only yelled, we screamed! Teeth clinched, I felt like throwing our washer through the wall. My wife stood dangerously close to me, stubbornly insisting that she clean the goop and I go do something else, because I was acting like an idiot. My eyeballs nearly popped out of my head. We yelled again and finally I had to get away from the impending meltdown.

Men can become physically enraged with anger, while women most often become emotional. We guys really need to be intentional and careful about getting to a "safe zone" -- where we cannot harm anything or anyone. And our wives need to let us go there to cool off, knowing that we'll return much calmer and in a rational state of mind.

So I stomped out the back door, kicked some rocks in the driveway and huffed and puffed a good two miles before finally cooling off. I knew better than to get into the car and drive angry, because I would drive like a madman -- I was a mad man! Walking was best and safest.

My wife and I have both learned that walks are good for the angry man -- or at least for me. And a cry-chat for my wife, with a level-headed girlfriend, helps her exit the Anger Zone, as well.

Once we united again, it was with a hug and mutual apologies. Our outbursts were embarrassing, and we both ate a slice of Humble Pie with a heaping scoop of Regret. We felt terrible, but forgiven.

We've come to realize that together we can overcome any problem. But if we are divided in anger, the "issue" wins and we, as a couple, lose. Proverbs 15:1 and 19:11 specifically address anger, instructing us to respond gently, be slow to anger and overlook transgressions.

When anger strikes, walks really work for me. Maybe they can work for you, too? Let's face it. Sooner or later, we all have one of "those" weekends. When the Blue Goo turns into Red Fury, it's better to have a safe plan in place than it is to fix a washer-sized hole in your drywall and in your spouse's heart. Care to walk, anyone?

So I've recently heard a new term being thrown around. It's nearly epidemic. Within the last four months, three of my friends have talked about booking or going on a "babymoon." Here's the purpose, according to the babymoon guide:

Looking for some pampering and relaxation before midnight feedings and sleep deprivation become the norm? A pre-baby vacation is the perfect answer!

These trips are also touted as a "last hurrah" for couples and "one last romantic getaway." But don't confuse this new "babymoon" with the traditional definition: "A babymoon is a period of time that parents spend bonding with a recently-born baby." Consider this a second honeymoon before your first child arrives.

Personally, I think it's a neat idea. I've heard many parents say that once they begin having children it's very difficult to get away — just the two of them. Also, with people getting married later, many are starting their families sooner after marriage. Several years ago, a friend of mine who married at 34 said she and her husband planned to take three or four honeymoons their first year before they started their family. I thought it was a fantastic idea (if you could afford it).

So what do you think of the babymoon? Are you planning one? Have you known someone who did?

I love asking this question when my two older children are cleaning their rooms. "Not funny, Daddy," come the groans. I love it.

Happiness is a tricky thing, isn't it? For several years, it was our goal in marriage. Alfie and I passionately pursued what most of us pursue in marriage, in all of life, really: our happiness! We reasoned that if spending time together made each of us happy, which it did, then why not do it for life?!

Turns out that life is not a perpetual weekend visit. It won't surprise you that there came a time, and quickly, when my happiness and her happiness were at odds. Still happens quite a bit actually. What then? I'll tell you what we did, we simply tried to convince the other that his/her definition was unreasonable and that our personal definition was brilliant. You can imagine Dr. Phil asking, "And how's that workin' for ya?"

Does it surprise you that we needed a few post-marital counseling sessions? It sure surprised us. We were Christians!

Somewhere along the way we made a discovery that will seem simple to you, but it revolutionized our marriage: Individual happiness is not a big enough cause to sustain a healthy marriage.

I know you're saying "duh," but really, that is a huge marriage revelation. We had given mental ascent to that truth, but the reality of it was a bit of a shocker.

If our final cause in marriage is individual, personal happiness, we are in for big trouble.

The problem started before our marriage, though. Marriage was merely the catalyst that brought it to the forefront. Alfie and I never would have thought we were so into our personal happiness as single people. It was such a part of our existence, we hardly noticed it. We noticed it in everyone else, of course, but not in us.

Once our vision for our marriage became bigger than the two of us as individuals, we began to feel the plane slowly lift off the runway. When we finally zeroed in on the vision of marriage being a catalyst to our loving and knowing and becoming more like Christ, we started to fly. When holiness became our target (HT: Gary Thomas), guess what? Happiness started hanging around too. That whole horse-in-front-of-the-cart thing.

So what about you? Have you experienced the frustration of individual "happiness" as a final cause for marriage?

Someone posted a comment on my blog about leading wanting more help with understanding submission.

If leading is tough, submission is probably tougher. I could write a book on this (actually, I did) because I feel so strongly about the issue and it's so difficult to apply to real-life marriage.

I've learned to understand submission in terms of power, not weakness. God has given women a tremendous amount of power in marriage. A woman can literally destroy her husband with her words and attitudes. Submission, in essence, is God's warning to be careful with how she uses that power and influence.

Guys have very sensitive egos. That's not a criticism, it's a statement. A man's confidence/competence is critical to his functioning in every area. His wife has the power to either build him up or tear him down -- it's her choice.

Think of submission not so much in terms of letting your husband make every decision in your household, but more in terms of your attitude toward him. Do you trust him? Do you believe in him? Are you rooting for him to succeed in life? Will you still be by his side if/when he fails? These are not feelings -- they are choices.

"A wise woman builds her house, the foolish one tears hers down with her own hands" (Proverbs 14:1).