5113. That is how many days my hubby and I will be married on Monday (yes, I included leap days). Fourteen years of marital bliss. Actually, 14 years of honoring, working, fighting, encouraging, being flexible, and resting. I was going to write a post giving advice, but the advice I would give would be to honor, work, fight, encourage, be flexible, and rest. So instead, I thought I would share our journey.
We met right before I turned 21. At church. He walked into the Sunday school class (my first time, he grew up there), and I thought, “well, looks like I found the right church!” He was (is) gorgeous. It all started very slowly (but married quickly). His best friend was engaged to his sister (nice move) and I had become good friends with her (what can I say, she’s a likable gal). The four of us would hang out quite often. A few months before their wedding his friend asks me (in front of him) what my intentions were with his best friend. My face turned crimson. My response came from The Lord. I said, “until he makes his intentions clear, my heart will stay out of it.” Good, right?!?!?
The next day he came over and made his intentions clear. The romantic that he is, his comment was, “you’re like the coolest chic I’ve ever known.” How’s a girl to turn that down. It took another month until he held my hand. And then another month to kiss me. At that point he tells me that he loves me. This was not said in return. That phrase had become cheap to me, and I had told myself (and him) that the next time I said that would be to the man I would marry. It didn’t take long. A couple weeks later I said it in return. He told me he wanted me to be his wife. Less than 3 months later he proposed with a ring. And less than five months after that we got married. On Friday the 13th. In October. With a full moon. We are risk takers. During our courtship he honored me so highly, and that has not changed.
The first year for us was easy. We were playing nice, too polite to be honest. The second year is when it got real. And feelings got hurt. And trust was broken. But it was also the year that we decided there would be no backing down. We are going to get through this. Defeat was not an option. We accepted that it was going to be work, and we were okay with it.
The third year was when our foundation was shaken. We had decided to move from Louisville to Atlanta for him to go to grad school. Our home sold within a week! That night I called my parents to tell them the good news. My mom didn’t sound so good, but she hadn’t for a while. Later that night she went to the hospital and didn’t get out until she went home to heaven four months later. While she was in the hospital we moved (with my father’s blessing). I wish we had waited. We didn’t make it home in time. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I was angry. At my husband, at God, at life. But I didn’t know what to do with it. So I turned inward and began drowning. My husband had his own set of struggles. And the rift began to form. We didn’t even see it happening. And then friends from church showed us (without even knowing it) what real honesty looked like. It was messy. Like, my-brother’s-room-when-he-was-a-teenager messy. We had already decided that defeat wasn’t an option, but I wasn’t prepared for just how painful it would be. Looking back, that was a crucial growth period for us. So even though the foundation was shaken, it stood firm. Now we weren’t just working on our marriage, we were fighting for it.
After living in Atlanta for two years, we moved on to Chicago. Well, the suburbs to be honest. It’s different. Really. The job that took us there didn’t last long for him. And so began a season of tremendous growth for him. Learning to find value from something other than his career. This is when as his wife I had to encourage him and assure him that he was valuable and he was talented and he will find work and he was and will be successful.
We decided to actually move into the city so he would have more work options, and we decided to open a coffee shop (that’s a whole long story I will share another time). For the first time we struggled, like really struggled, with finances. Now we had loads of debt and very little income. Nothing seemed to be easy, but what can I say, such is the life of a risk taker. And then, oh look! I’m pregnant! No worries, I thought, I’m Wonder Woman! I can do it all! Wrong. So we walked away from the coffee world and began to raise a little person. Things became pretty routine for a while. He worked, I worked, we bought a house, remodeled a house, made another little person. We were flexible. When the situation we were in was becoming destructive we did what we needed to change it.
But we were never really settled in Chicago. It didn’t feel like home. So we decided to move south. We didn’t really care where. So when he got a job in Greenville, South Carolina (aka heaven on earth) we said, sure why not! The first time either of us ever came here was with the moving truck. So here we are. We are finally in a season a peace. We are busy, but enjoying ourselves. We are appreciating where we are, because who knows how long it will last?
We have not “arrived” in our marriage. I’m not that naive. I know there will be struggles in the future. But I know that we will face them together.
