It’s no secret: marriage is hard. Sharing air, space, a bed,
a life with someone else is not happily ever after.
Last May we celebrated our 11 year anniversary. These last
couple years have been rough. We have stopped seeing the best in each other. Time
passes. There are so many conflicts, hurts, wounds, misunderstandings, and
distance. We force our lines, smile pretty for the pictures. We’ve both wanted
to quit more times than we care to admit.
The road to reconciliation is not
paved. It’s filled with thistles, thorns, overgrowth… a wasteland of obstacles;
weeds of unforgiveness, selfishness and silence. We need armor and supernatural
weapons to wade through.
Love has gotten lost amongst the dirty dishes, remembering
to set the coffee maker, a ridiculous amount of laundry, medical crises, an overwhelming
stack of bills, things that need to be fixed around the house, a baby that
doesn’t want to sleep, and anxiety about our future.
We used to know how to do this. We used to pray for each
other and laugh at the days to come.
We used to think we were invincible. We used to think nothing could stop us. We
had passion; we were driven against all odds. We have forgotten who we are
without all these strings of obligations and roles.
This rift, this chasm between us- I’m still trying to figure
out if we can fix it. Our hands are broken. Our feet have failed us yet again,
and hope… hope has disappeared. Our trust has been severed.
A crisis of faith is tearing us apart.
They tell us to use the weapon of gratefulness. There are
numerous things to be thankful for: our son who is happy and makes us whole: he
is our light amidst these dark days. Our home which shelters us from so many
storms - provides refuge, peace. Our family who shows us that love shows up in
person, no matter what; they help us laugh at ourselves and carry us through
tough times by praying for us, fixing a leak, troubleshooting computers,
helping us unpack into our new home, planning the kids’ birthday parties, and
making the pecan pie that is out of this world!
Love is actions. Love is Steve catching the fact that I left
boiling water on the stove and got lost in another project. He makes the rest
of lunch for me. He sees me in the garden, and brings me a bag for all the
weeds I toss to and fro. He comes home with another bottle of my favorite wine
since I ran out last night. He cleans the car seat after Drew has thrown up
everywhere. He finds me the Sonicare toothbrush I wanted for Christmas. He
comes looking for me on my walk around the neighborhood after my phone went
dead. Steve gets up every morning, gets Drew ready for school, starts my car
even on the coldest of mornings, and loads up Drew’s book bag and essentials
for school despite the fact that he’s in excruciating pain and would much
rather lay in bed and not face the day.
Ministry and missions is not always about serving the needs
afar. More often than not, the poor, the destitute, the broken are under our
own roof bleeding uncontrollably by our own hands as we do the mad
dash out the door.
Sometimes, the one bleeding uncontrollably is you.
So here’s the plan: we continue going forward… whether we’re
walking or crawling, arming ourselves with the shield of gratefulness and the weapon of actions. We continue to
have hope for tomorrow. We ask for prayers and courage for the dark days. We
laugh more. We build each other up with love, encouragement and try not to take
everything so seriously. Above all, we stretch out our hands in friendship and
kindness. These are the things we have missed most in the last couple years.
