Every night my husband takes off his socks and bunches them up in his shoes, even though he will have to remove those very same socks and place them in the laundry basket exactly six inches away the next time he plans to wear the shoes.

"Why do you do this?" I ask. "It doesn't make any sense to put dirty socks back in your shoes. Why don't you just put them in the dirty clothes?"

Read more: Shoes and Socks

I should have known when I saw the butterscotch candy scattered across my bed that I was engaged to be married to a man who didn't play fair. Although it's hard for me to imagine why we wanted to do it, at that time we had agreed to a goal of losing ten pounds each and a contest to determine who could do it first. It was clear that this man was not supporting my weight loss efforts. Either that, or he was hoping the "butterscotch strategy" would work in his favor.

Read more: Hitched & Healthy

Thursday evening I attended the wake of a young husband and father of a former student. He died long before his time from a rare, devastating illness that took his life in only a few months. Friday morning I scanned my computer screen and learned of a catastrophe unfolding for a small community in Connecticut. A bleak foreboding settled over me as I pondered the sad scene. Some days the world can feel like a very dark place.

Read more: Dark and Light

"I didn't hear the dryer buzz," my husband said innocently, acting offended that I could even suggest he be more helpful.

Really, seriously, did he expect me to believe that? I was working away in our home office down a full flight of stairs and two rooms away when I heard the repeated buzz signaling the end of a drying cycle. He was sitting in the kitchen, practically in the same room, and he didn't pick up on the persistent sound indicating his dress slacks and shirt, among other things, needed to be removed from the dryer. He should have been carting the boxes of Christmas ornaments upstairs to the tree awaiting decorations. He might have retrieved the vacuum from the closet and vacuumed up the needles on the carpet.

Read more: I Didn't Hear the Dryer Buzz!

I spent last week in Wichita, Kansas training some wonderful, dedicated folks. They came from all over the state, from Garden City to Kansas City, Hutchinson to Hays. They were all (men and women, young and old, African American, Latino and White) eager to learn how to facilitate healthy marriage and relationship workshops for couples and singles. We rose early every morning and fell into bed exhausted every night, but the people we met in Kansas figure the effort is worth the cost in terms of time away from their families and long days of training, because they're out to change their world. They want things to be different for people living in Kansas.  Our week in Wichita was a powerful reminder that reducing child abuse and neglect by helping people form and maintain healthy marriages doesn't just happen. It requires commitment—taking the long term view, prioritizing, identifying personally with the mission, and making a choice to give up other choices. In fact, it's the same kind of dedication necessary for a happy, healthy marriage.

Read more: A Week in Wichita