I recall a conversation with a husband who was feeling alone. He and his wife had danced into the first ten years of marriage with copious amounts of affection and gratitude. The more he tried to help her with the house and children the more effusive she was with thanks. But a year or so after the third child she became increasingly irritable, and the appreciative comments dried up. He still showed up for dishes and bath time but the undone list outweighed the done and she was unlikely to observe his efforts. 

 

The result was that he tried less, not more. He could not have articulated it. It was simply the aftermath of failing. 

 

"One time I offered to give her a special weekend, and suggested six fun ideas, all of which I would pull together. But she brushed me off, saying she was too busy. The likelihood of me making myself vulnerable again was nil."

 

I looked at his lowered face and wished I could have changed that conversation.

 

"One time I was late coming home and before I could even step through the door she barked at me. I never had a chance to explain that I was putting gas in her car, since she had an early appointment the next day. I never told her. Probably she drove off without noticing."

 

Later that day I was listening to a mother whose teenager had given up on school. He had been pegged as the loser kid, and his sporadic efforts to please his teachers couldn't change that. I had a window into how me might feel. 

 

There is no doubt that the wife, and the teachers had their own versions of those stories. It is difficult to express thanks when you are yourself overwhelmed. 

 

But that might be when it is most precious.