Looking back, I never would have guessed the difference steady love could make—not just in my marriage but in my heart. I hope our journey will encourage you, maybe even give you hope if you feel far from your spouse or fearful you’ll never draw close again. This is a story about the day everything started to shift—the story of how I became emotionally and physically responsive to the man God gave me, because he finally made me feel known, valued, and cherished.
When Marriage Felt Distant
For years, I believed I was the problem. Our marriage had all the makings of a storybook beginning—church wedding, bright-eyed dreams, even weekly date nights when the kids were small. But somewhere along the way, our spark quietly fizzled out. I still loved my husband, no doubt about it. I just didn’t feel open, eager, or particularly drawn to physical affection.
Sunday mornings I’d smile and hold hands in the pew, but inside I felt a quiet ache, a distance I didn’t know how to cross. It always seemed like he wanted more: more intimacy, more warmth, more of… well, me. And I felt guilty, thinking “Shouldn’t I feel different?” I prayed for my marriage, leafed through books, circled date nights on the calendar, tried “just saying yes.” But nothing truly broke through. He was a good man, but I felt like something inside me was stuck, locked up tight.
The Moment Things Started to Change
What changed wasn’t magic, counseling, or one grand gesture. It was a quiet season, a slow surrender, that made everything new. One morning, after a long week when my patience was nearly gone, my husband did something I hadn’t expected. Instead of withdrawing or acting frustrated, he simply came up behind me at the kitchen sink and wrapped his arms around my waist. He didn’t make a move, didn’t ask for anything. He slid his cheek alongside mine, closed his eyes, and in the gentlest way, he whispered, “I’m so grateful for you.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d said kind things, but that morning he didn’t rush away. He didn’t try to explain or fix anything. He just stood there, breathing quietly, with only the hum of the dishwasher and the birds outside for company. Some deep place in my heart softened.
Feeling Seen for the First Time
That day, something broke open inside me. I realized how desperate I was to feel seen—not just for my cooking or my mothering or my “good wife” habits, but for my heart. I wanted to be cherished, wanted him to linger, wanted to know he’d delight in me even if I didn’t always “perform” as the world calls it.
Over the next weeks, my husband started to show up differently. He began asking, “How can I pray for you today?” Sometimes, he just listened without trying to jump in with solutions. When I shared my worries—about the kids, my aging parents, the house—he put his phone down, looked me in the eye, and said, “That sounds hard. I’m here.” Sometimes, we’d sit on the porch just watching the world go by, his hand resting quietly in mine. There was no agenda, just company.
From Judgment to Gentleness
It took time, but my sense of safety started to grow. I wasn’t just another item on my husband’s “to do” list—I was his beloved. When I forgot a chore or snapped at him in stress, his grace surprised me. He would hug me and laugh off my mistakes. When I struggled with body-image or fatigue, he’d pull me close and say, “There’s nothing about you that turns me away. You’re a gift from God, inside and out.” It wasn’t that his compliments fixed my flaws. Instead, it was his patience that made me brave enough to be vulnerable.
One night after a family gathering, when the house was finally quiet, my husband turned off the TV and asked if we could pray together. I nearly cried. I’d been begging God to help me feel closer, but honestly I’d been afraid to hope. Standing in our messy living room, he thanked God for me, for our marriage, for our story together. He asked for wisdom, patience, and tenderness to “see each other the way You see us, Lord.” I’ll never forget the warmth that blossomed in my chest. I felt safe—emotionally, spiritually, physically—in a way I hadn’t for years.
Discovering a New Kind of Closeness
The biggest surprise wasn’t just that I began to trust my husband again, but that I actually wanted to be near him. My desire returned—not as a wild impulse, but as a gentle, honest hunger for his presence. It felt strange, after so long of feeling locked up, to realize I could actually look forward to intimacy. I found myself lingering for one more kiss, one more touch, the feeling of his arm around me as we drifted off to sleep.
We talked more, even about things we’d long ignored. I admitted how raw I felt after years spent nursing babies, managing money, running our household. He apologized for times he’d been distracted or dismissive. I apologized for pushing him away or hiding in busyness. Together, we made a choice to protect our time together. Some nights, we lit candles, turned off our phones, and just rested in each other’s company, no pressure, no expectations.
God at Work in Ordinary Moments
Looking back, I see God at work in places I wasn’t even looking. The grace to receive my husband’s love, to believe I was worthy of kindness, only grew as I drew closer to Jesus. Scripture stopped feeling like a checklist of duties and started to feel like a love letter. “You are altogether beautiful, my darling…” I’d read in Song of Solomon, and it felt like a whisper from heaven.
Colossians 3:12-14 calls us to “put on compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.” As my husband leaned into those qualities, and as I let myself believe I was loved, something began to heal. My walls came down, slowly but surely, brick by brick. I started believing that I could bring my whole self to my marriage—messy, complicated, overly sensitive—and somehow that was enough. Actually, it was more than enough. It was holy ground.
Growing in Physical and Emotional Response
With emotional safety came physical response. I won’t pretend it was fireworks every single night. Sometimes, real life and real exhaustion took over. But I began to discover the joy of saying yes to my husband—not from duty or guilt, but from a deeply rooted place of warmth and gratitude. Affection returned. Playfulness returned. The pleasure of being together as one flesh, which had felt dry or awkward before, now became a source of joy.
I stopped dreading his touch, started seeking it. I looked for ways to show my love, too: a gentle back rub when he was tense, sweet notes slipped into his lunch, reaching for his hand in the car. Serving each other became less about obligation and much more about worship—our little way of thanking God for restoring what felt lost.
Building a Marriage That Lasts
Now, when friends ask how things are between my husband and me, I tell them the truth. We’re closer than ever. Not perfect—no marriage is perfect—but close in a way I once thought was gone for good. We still argue sometimes, we still get it wrong, but we know how to circle back and make things right. Our faith is the glue. We pray, we forgive, we dream, and we laugh. We remind ourselves often: marriage is less about getting our own way and more about honoring Christ by loving sacrificially.
When I look at my husband now, I see the man God gave me—not as a project to fix, but as a partner to cherish. I thank God for the ways his love has softened my heart, for the days he chooses kindness when frustration would be easier, for the times we weep and pray side by side and come out stronger. This closeness is our miracle, and it came when we both surrendered our pride and let grace do its quiet work.
Encouragement for Others
If you’re reading this and marriage feels distant, don’t despair. Sometimes the smallest shift—a gentle word, a listening ear, a simple prayer—can begin a new chapter. Ask God for a heart that is both strong and soft, for courage to be real, and for grace to see your spouse through new eyes. No story is too far gone to redeem; no heart is too hard for the Lord to soften.
The secret of closeness isn’t technique or timing. It’s trust, built slowly and nurtured through repeated acts of kindness and faith. It’s letting go of who you think you “should” be and letting God grow you, together, into something better than you imagined.
From my heart to yours—there is hope. With Jesus at the center, and forgiveness, gentleness, and faithfulness as your guides, you truly can be closer than ever. I am living proof. And I pray our story points you to the Author of all intimacy, the God who delights to see two hearts become one.