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Just then the quiet voice of the Holy Spirit whispered, Trust me.

I gritted my teeth in response.

When Randy came inside, I handed him a glass of water. As difficult as it was to force the words from my mouth, I told him how much I appreciated that he mowed the lawn and I never had to worry about it. Then an amazing thing happened. Before I knew what I was saying, I added, "I'm thankful I married a man so trustworthy."

To my surprise, my husband peacocked. He straightened, drew back his shoulders, and did what looked like a ruffling move. Reaching out his hand to touch mine, he said,  "Thank you."

I stood stunned as the hardness of my heart began to melt, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of the man I'd married.

Could it be that simple, Lord? I prayed. In the days and weeks that followed, I clung to the apostle Paul's words in Romans 8:24 as my hope grew for rekindling those lost feelings of love: "For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has?"

I began praising Randy for even the smallest kernel of good. At first it was difficult because I was used to focusing on the irritating things—the areas where he didn't measure up. But as I prayed, God helped me see the good, such as when Randy would take his plate to the kitchen after dinner. One night I thanked him and he retorted defensively, "I always do that."

Instinctively, I wanted to respond with equal sarcasm, "Yeah, how big of you," but instead I swallowed hard and said, "I know, but I wanted you to know how much it helps." Proverbs 15:1 became my new weapon: "A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger."

I practiced envisioning what Randy would be like if those kernels of good grew into a dominating feature. Then holding that vision in my mind, I treated him as though it were reality.

Transformation didn't occur overnight. In fact, I sowed seeds of gentleness, love, and acceptance for nearly a year without any signs of new life. Then one night after dinner, Randy picked up his plate and mine, and took them to the kitchen. I collected a few more dishes, and before long the kitchen was clean. I casually thanked him and then we both fell into our evening routine. Later as I was readying for bed, it hit me: Randy helped me clean the kitchen! We'd worked together without fireworks. How could I have missed that?

My mind raced to other examples that week—little things he'd done and I'd accepted. He helped me unload the groceries from the car trunk, and wiped out the sink after cleaning his electric shaver—something that had always sent me into a tantrum. Why hadn't I noticed?

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