*a note from me: please remember this post is meant to be poetic, it is not a how-to on having a healthy marriage, only reflections from my heart. It is not a complete picture of our marriage, but a snippet of how we work together through the hard times. Every marriage, every relationship, has its ups and downs. Both my husband and I are advocates for intentionally surrounding ourselves with life-giving community, covenant friends whom we can share our life and marriage. I’ll be the first to say marriage is difficult, but it is also meant to be a delight to both people, and if it’s not I encourage you to seek the counsel and wisdom of someone you trust.
We fought on “vacation.”
What could have been a morning walk on the beach hand in hand, turned into both of us wanting our space and gladly accepting the company of other family members to distract us from the hurt.
He’s better at pretending everything’s okay. He can move on, albeit with a limp. While, I frown and fume, sometimes for hours, letting all the feelings run their full course.
Usually, by afternoon, we start giving each other the eye, the knowing glance that it’s time. With caution and care, we might throw out a few words here and there to test the waters.
He moves closer with our signature question, “Want a sip?” He tilts his coffee cup towards me. We both know it’s code language for, “Are we ready to talk?”
We sift through the debris for a long while, together, looking for all the treasures, taking as much time as needed, often the whole day. Ten years into marriage and we’ve learned our fights are never futile.
The fog may lay low and thick, but eventually it lifts, and the sun pierces through the clouds. There’s work to be done.
As the search continues, there are always glistening, broken pieces of our hearts needing salvaged and restored.
But, sometimes too, we realize there our parts of us we held so dear that need to be laid to rest right there in the rubble heap. It takes these regular, inconvenient fights to figure out who we are as individuals and as a couple.
In the process of what appears to be haphazard mining for anything that glitters, we are brought together and mended again. The clues to a Bigger Story come into view. We hardly recognize what’s happening because we are consumed with the hunt for little bits of glory in the wreckage; and when we find them, we hold them up to catch the light. See this, a prism of peace streams down, casting a sign of hope for what’s to come.
“Do you want the last sip?” my husband smiles at me, cup in hand.
“Sure.” I savor the last drop and my heart is full.
Nobody knows the significance of this moment but us. Wrapped up in this one tiny interaction, just before the coffee is finished, is forgiveness, a fresh start, and a forever kind of love.
This kind of love becomes better through the broken. This kind of love understands promises grow best in the empty cups, when lack looks like it will win the last word.
We might feel depleted, disagreements are disruptive and exhausting, but thankfully, He never stops giving …
And neither will we.