My first thought on writing a blog about our 20th wedding anniversary years is that our marriage is about as old as the literary form in which I'm writing. Like us, blogs started in the late 90s. So that's something. It's like Mr. Hammurabi being able to say, "Hey, babe! We've been married as long as people have been carving social codes into blocks of stone." Monumental!
I still don't know what to think about marriage, self, family, and life, except that none of those things happen abstractly. You live it. There's no waiting for things to be perfect, and that's part of the joy and the challenge. It's a joy, because every moment is holy with the people around you. It's a challenge, because it's people dealing with each other in the messes, routines, and ups-and-downs of everyday life. There's always something to get in the way of peace and happiness: a bad mood, different moods in the same household at the same time, money troubles, outside stresses, internal struggles, hopes, disappointments, and on and on. When things aren't going well, I've learned the importance of just living in the moment, appreciating the good times, and trusting that the bad ones will pass. What's the meaning of life, marriage, family, or myself? I don't know, except that there's this group of people who are around right here and now for me to love.
That might sound easy enough. But as a spouse, friend, and family member I have hurt and been hurt. I've had my heart broken in ways I didn't know were possible, and been cruel, unkind, and distant in ways that are embarrassing and shameful. There's nothing like close relationships to highlight the worst sides of a person. On this point, Martin Luther once said, "whoever enters into marriage, enters into a real monastery full of struggles [Anfechtung]." To me, this is Luther comparing the spiritual challenge of fighting temptation through monastic rigor to the equally deep struggles to experience holiness and goodness that come through daily family life. Instead of a cynical statement against marriage, I hear Luther saying that these struggles are worth it, because God cares about our lives and relationships. Holiness is there. We experience the depths of pain, as well as the heights, depths, and breadth of love through our closest relationships. It's learning to deal with the worst sides of ourselves, practicing how to say sorry, finding out what it means to forgive and be forgiven, and remembering to apply grace to ourselves and each other. Adventures of holy learning and living to fill a lifetime.
It's also good to notice that while 20 years is a relatively long time, it's not the whole time. We got married in our early 20s, which is kind of young. But I trusted my decisions then. And I wonder now how I'll make decisions and grow in ways I can trust in the years to come. I don't want or expect to be the same husband or father at 54 that I was at 27. I'm interested in finding out what I'll know and who I'll be in the future that I don't know now. I hope I can be proud of the person I'm still becoming.
There's a social dimension to this, too. Carrie and I are fortunate to have many support networks. But American culture is not set up to support all families well. People get stressed out and stretched thin because of finances, health care, education, employment, and the like. We've been there, too. These are social choices we've made through policies and practices. We can change them for the better. So there's an important social, political side of marriage and families worth addressing: how can we help make family life better rather than harder as a community? What else could possibly be more important than that?
I understand why many marriages don't last. I'm starting to understand how some survive and even thrive. At the same time, I'm sure that feelings like cowardice, convenience, or stubbornness have kept me married when it might have made sense to leave a relationship that wasn't flourishing like I desperately longed for. Things can get so hard. There, too, it helps to apply grace. Grace for when marriage doesn't work for people. Grace for things not being perfect in or around me. Grace for seeing what kind of flourishing might happen next, whatever comes next.
In that spirit of grace, I'll conclude by saying thank you to Carrie, our family, and our friends for the love that I and we have received. I'll keep praying for and supporting the wellness of friends as individuals and as people in relationships. I'll look forward to times of grace, love, and beauty in the years to come.
Thanks for sharing your life with me, Carrie. I love you. As we heard at our wedding from 1 Corinthians 13, "Love never ends."
I still don't know what to think about marriage, self, family, and life, except that none of those things happen abstractly. You live it. There's no waiting for things to be perfect, and that's part of the joy and the challenge. It's a joy, because every moment is holy with the people around you. It's a challenge, because it's people dealing with each other in the messes, routines, and ups-and-downs of everyday life. There's always something to get in the way of peace and happiness: a bad mood, different moods in the same household at the same time, money troubles, outside stresses, internal struggles, hopes, disappointments, and on and on. When things aren't going well, I've learned the importance of just living in the moment, appreciating the good times, and trusting that the bad ones will pass. What's the meaning of life, marriage, family, or myself? I don't know, except that there's this group of people who are around right here and now for me to love.
That might sound easy enough. But as a spouse, friend, and family member I have hurt and been hurt. I've had my heart broken in ways I didn't know were possible, and been cruel, unkind, and distant in ways that are embarrassing and shameful. There's nothing like close relationships to highlight the worst sides of a person. On this point, Martin Luther once said, "whoever enters into marriage, enters into a real monastery full of struggles [Anfechtung]." To me, this is Luther comparing the spiritual challenge of fighting temptation through monastic rigor to the equally deep struggles to experience holiness and goodness that come through daily family life. Instead of a cynical statement against marriage, I hear Luther saying that these struggles are worth it, because God cares about our lives and relationships. Holiness is there. We experience the depths of pain, as well as the heights, depths, and breadth of love through our closest relationships. It's learning to deal with the worst sides of ourselves, practicing how to say sorry, finding out what it means to forgive and be forgiven, and remembering to apply grace to ourselves and each other. Adventures of holy learning and living to fill a lifetime.
It's also good to notice that while 20 years is a relatively long time, it's not the whole time. We got married in our early 20s, which is kind of young. But I trusted my decisions then. And I wonder now how I'll make decisions and grow in ways I can trust in the years to come. I don't want or expect to be the same husband or father at 54 that I was at 27. I'm interested in finding out what I'll know and who I'll be in the future that I don't know now. I hope I can be proud of the person I'm still becoming.
There's a social dimension to this, too. Carrie and I are fortunate to have many support networks. But American culture is not set up to support all families well. People get stressed out and stretched thin because of finances, health care, education, employment, and the like. We've been there, too. These are social choices we've made through policies and practices. We can change them for the better. So there's an important social, political side of marriage and families worth addressing: how can we help make family life better rather than harder as a community? What else could possibly be more important than that?
I understand why many marriages don't last. I'm starting to understand how some survive and even thrive. At the same time, I'm sure that feelings like cowardice, convenience, or stubbornness have kept me married when it might have made sense to leave a relationship that wasn't flourishing like I desperately longed for. Things can get so hard. There, too, it helps to apply grace. Grace for when marriage doesn't work for people. Grace for things not being perfect in or around me. Grace for seeing what kind of flourishing might happen next, whatever comes next.
In that spirit of grace, I'll conclude by saying thank you to Carrie, our family, and our friends for the love that I and we have received. I'll keep praying for and supporting the wellness of friends as individuals and as people in relationships. I'll look forward to times of grace, love, and beauty in the years to come.
Thanks for sharing your life with me, Carrie. I love you. As we heard at our wedding from 1 Corinthians 13, "Love never ends."