Lent Photo a Day: Endure

It was more than seven years ago that my now-husband first put this diamond ring on my finger, and nearly seven since he added the wedding band. In those past seven years, we’ve been through a lot.

We’ve lost pregnancies, parents, siblings, friends, jobs, our tempers, our health, and occasionally our minds. We nearly lost one of our own children once. We’ve survived one child in college and two in diapers. We’ve made it through the terrible twos (twice). We’ve redecorated two different rooms and lived to tell the tale. We planned a major home renovation without killing each other. If it’s true that “whatever doesn’t kill us makes us stronger,” then we’ve become pretty strong. We have learned to endure.

The word “endure” implies some kind of solid foundation. If something endures, it has a root, a base, an underpinning, something that allows it to weather a storm without breaking, if not without bending. Bending, in fact, is often crucial to enduring. A building designed to endure an earthquake cannot be rigid; it must be able to flex and bend and accommodate shifting ground. But it must have a deep, sturdy base to adhere to. If it is rigid, it will snap when outside forces buffet it. It must be able to give way a little. And if it is not firmly fixed to its base, it will be swept away. Without a base, it cannot endure.

My marriage has endured for these seven sometimes tumultuous years because of its base: our mutual faith in God and our mutual respect for each other. The former gives us our strong, sturdy, unshakeable base. And the latter allows us to give in a bit, to bend and flex and make allowances. The first holds us firm; the last gives us freedom. Together, they have allowed us to endure.

Endure.

Marry Me a Little

As I mentioned in yesterday’s blog, this weekend my husband and I attended a wedding. We have attended a number of weddings together, two of them within six months of our own. And of course, going to a wedding within a matter of months of your own is very romantic, because you are constantly reminded of your own special day. But, as I discovered this weekend, it is equally romantic going to a wedding four and a half years later.

This particular wedding was especially lovely. The bride had three grown children and the groom had two, and the toasts given by the children had the entire audience in tears. The daughters of the bride and the groom were the bridesmaids, the groom’s son was his best man, and the bride’s two sons escorted her down the aisle. Readings were by the bride’s brother and the groom’s sister. And the JP who officiated had obviously spent time getting to know the couple, as her remarks were both appropriate and personal.

But what made it most meaningful to me was how her remarks applied to all the married couples listening. At one point, she invited the bride and groom to join hands as she talked about the reasons they gave that they loved each other, and without hesitation, my husband took my hand in his, and we each thought about everything we love about each other. Without speaking a single word, we knew we were both thinking back to our own wedding day and the vows we made to each other. While we were driving up to the wedding the night before, my husband had remarked that he hoped their wedding ceremony would include an invitation to the married couples attending to renew their vows to each other, and although that invite was not explicitly given, we both saw that moment as a chance to privately renew our vows.

Just this morning, I stumbled across an online discussion of vow renewal ceremonies. Opinions were very much mixed, although I was surprised at how many posters thought they were ridiculous because “vows don’t expire.” And that is a perfectly reasonable opinion. But my personal experience is that, after several years and several children, vows tend to fade into the background. The business of daily life, like earning a living and raising children, takes most of our time and energy and we sometimes forget to turn the focus onto our own relationship as husband and wife. So a little reminder every now and then of the promises we made on that day when we were completely focused on each other serves to bring a little perspective.

And it never hurts to remind yourself of everything you love about your spouse. For example, I love that my husband does things around the house without thinking twice. I love that he doesn’t make fun of my total lack of directional ability. I love that he knows my exact level of frustration when his stepping in to lend me a hand is helpful and not annoying. I love how much he loves spending time with his children. I love how smart and knowledgeable he is in so many widely varied areas. I love how hard he works, and yet how he is able to balance work and family. I love how dedicated he is to his college fraternity. I love that he always looks neat and well put together, whether he’s wearing his jogging gear or a tuxedo. I love his beautiful singing voice. I love how beautifully he plays the piano. I love how comfortable he is at a party or in a group of strangers. I love his laugh. I love his mad bartending skills. I love how protective he is of me. I love the way he loves his family. I love the way he loves me.

And I’d marry him all over again. After all, I imagine I’m marrying him again at every wedding we go to.

 

Happy Anniversary To Us

Two years ago this coming Monday, I married the most wonderful man I have ever met.

In the past two years, my life has changed in ways I never could have imagined. They say that the first year of marriage is often the hardest, and if that's the case, we can expect pretty smooth sailing from here on out, because is many ways that first year was a cinch. Although when I think about it, we had a lot of tough things to deal with that first year. I had a miscarriage, my mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, I was laid off, and I began a very difficult pregnancy. But my memories of that first year aren't of the pain of losing a baby, or nearly losing a parent, or losing a job, or being nauseous 24/7. They're of having my wonderful husband by my side, supporting me and loving me and sharing those burdens. They're of the laughter rather than the tears and of the love rather than the loss.

The second year was also a mixed blessing. It began with six more months of being sick 24/7, but it ended with six months of watching our beautiful, sweet, good-natured, good-looking, absolutely perfect son grow up. For every sleepless night those first few weeks we've been rewarded with days full of baby chortles. For every tear shed over a baby who wouldn't eat at first, we have laughter over a baby who's so big he keeps growing out of his clothes. For every tense, stressed-out snipe at each other for some nonsensical reason, we have a hug and a kiss and apologies on both sides and feeling closer than ever because of it.

The saying goes that marriage is hard work, and I agree that's true. But it shouldn't be the kind of hard work that makes you wonder if it's worth it, that makes you feel like you're tilting at windmills, that leaves you exhausted and frustrated at the end of each day, and that makes you want to throw in the towel. It ought to be the kind of hard work that makes you proud at what you've accomplished, that makes you want to take on the challenge anew every day, that gives you a sense of confidence that you've created something wonderful that enriches your own life and the lives of others.

I love working at my marriage like that, and I look forward to continuing to work at it for many, many years to come. For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.