Dave and I just celebrated our 22nd wedding anniversary this month and his 45th Birthday. To commemorate the occasion(s), we took an extended weekend down to Florida and “acted like kids” in America’s best theme park.
Right before we left, we had a visit with “Harry Pottress” after many weeks away from her discerning gaze. That time gap allowed us to see and report how much progress we felt like we had made.
Our journey together has been going….fairly well. And I find myself in a place of overwhelming gratitude for the work God is doing in our hearts and for the Dave-like ways that my husband loves me.
While we were away on this birthday getaway, it was lovely to reflect on the Dave I married and the Dave of today. The things we continue to learn about each other. The times he surprises me with tender ways he sees me or affirms me. I told him last week that I had been longing for so long to feel fully seen and understood by him and how meaningful it was to feel that recently.
This sweet husband of mine said, with enough irony to leave me gobsmacked: “Did it ever occur to you that I’ve always seen you? I just didn’t know how to show you that I saw you?”
Touché Mr. Morales Touché.
One day, I will have to write this whole journey down into its own book. It truly has been amazing—this adventure. Scary. Gut wrenching. So very humbling. Surprising. I have cried some worn-out, empty tears. So has he. I had a complete breakdown in a Mexican restaurant parking lot once. And, though we were fighting, Dave came back for me. He needed to be sure I was okay.
It is one thing to cohabit with someone. It is entirely another to really, really let them in. To see the most vulnerable sides of you. I have said “I don’t think I can do this” many times. And I have heard a voice say: sure you can. I have heard the voice of God advocate for my husband and send me back to him. And I’m not even exaggerating. I think it’s fair to say that my understanding of the nature of God’s love has been shaped by how I have seen him go to bat for Dave Morales.
He loves that man. Bigly.
Dave is not a man who enjoys living on the Squooshy side. Vulnerability is not his jam. What I have learned is that he very much identifies with the imagery of being a brave little kid inside an adult’s suit of armor—trying to hold the entire world together with his strength. Afraid to let go; afraid to let me down.
But as we work on trust, he lets me in too. And I get to see the more vulnerable side of him—and it takes my breath away sometimes. It is such a privilege.
This text (shared with permission), is an example of new-Dave—being vulnerable with his wife. Harry Pottress calls this “being naked”. “Being naked” is a throwback to the Garden of Eden and how original sin made Adam and Eve want to hide from God. But being made in God’s image means that we were built with longings…for connection and impact. And the trick is to share those longings with each other without trying to hide them or cover them up.
Just. Be naked.
Figuratively. I mean. Be literally naked if you want. But. Find another blog to support those activities. 🙂
Whilst we were on our “kids weekend”, I wrote this poem for Dave. And he created the avatar for this post. I told him I would post it (again, with his permission) so that the world could see the heart he does not share with everyone.
I give you the Naked Knight:
You are my knight in polished steel
Naked Knight—R Morales 5/26/25
A hidden soul it guards, concealed.
The boy inside, so seldom seen
The burden great neath this machine.
I could not see the little lad
All I could see was my facade.
Distracted by my small scared face,
I marveled how you took up space.
The little girl inside of me
Was baffled by your bravery
When you squared off against the world
She envied at your strength unfurled.
I saw my weakness in your gleam.
I tried to dig beneath your seams.
Pointy tools and hammers used
To weaken joints; make welds un-fused.
To my surprise my efforts failed
No holes were made; the steel prevailed
Frustrated, stamping feet with rage
“I can’t get in this armored cage!”
That low soft voice, I heard it, then:
“That armor hides a boy within.
He’s tired, lonely, stuck, inside
Your drilling made him want to hide.”
“Oh no,” I cried, “I did not know.”
“Oh boy inside, please do not go.
My arms are empty—weapons gone.
Please may I share your burden some?”
That brave knight, then, grew braver yet.
Heart opened up to outside threats.
He sat without his suit of steel.
And nakedness left him to feel.
Then off we went, our hands in hands.
To learn about and understand.
The road we travel takes our breath
But when it does, we find our rest.
You are my knight—but without steel
Oh, naked boy, my wounds you heal.
How I thank God for showing me
That boy who loves the girl in me.
The Squooshy 
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