There Remains Love

Christmas is nearly here which means Dave and I will celebrate another year of marriage.

We’ve moved ten times on three continents in our 15 years of marriage.  We can probably fit our most desired belongings (minus furniture and appliances) into two suitcases each.

When I was young, moving so often wasn’t part of my life plan. I dreamed of owning a red brick, Victorian mansion with a winding staircase and a wraparound porch, of having deep roots in one place, of living near family, of living off the land with our children. Clearly, I was born a century too late.  

Well, we did own a brick house for 1½ years in Kenya and it was everything we wanted in a house despite our water problems, but when we left we couldn’t take the house with us.  Since then, we’ve never talked of owning a house again, though we’re certainly not opposed to it.

Dave dreamed of being a football star and a comedian. He did play college football for one year, which happens to be the year we first met. The comedy thing . . . one can always dream. Sorry, Babe.

Long after childhood fantasies have faded we find ourselves with an unpredictable, incredible life beyond what we imagined.   The best part is that we get to live it together.   

And some days it feels like the worst part because we don’t get to do whatever we want. We have to be together. We have to decide together.  We must remain.

Our marriage has endured struggle born out of selfishness, pride, impatience, obstinacy, personality differences, and other á la carte characteristics that cause couples to clash.  We are two different kinds of leaders, Dave the extroverted networker whose words inspire confidence and hope and me the introverted achiever who dodges public speaking and meetings as much as possible. He’s a big picture guy; I’m into details. He wears his emotions; mine are lodged within me. He greets everyone; I avoid people.  He’s a hugger; I’m just not (except with my sons). Our differences are no secret to those who know us well.   On the one hand, we balance each other as the marriage cliché goes. However, there’s another hand and that’s where arguments arise. Thankfully, I’m with a man who always fights fair, accepts responsibility, and works toward reconciliation with me.

So how have me made it this far and how can we make it another 15 years?  I don’t have an answer, but I know we’ll try. We’ll work to fan the flame to a roar. We’ll work on giving up our selves. Sometimes we’ll fail, but we won’t give up on one another.

I considered coming up with a list of marital secrets for happiness, the one-for-each-year kind of thing, but the truth is that we already know what we should do.  I know where I need to take hold and to release and to be calmer inside.  Dave knows where his way of doing things can breed tension in our relationship. Each marriage is unique and it is imperative upon each couple to refine themselves and one another in distinct ways.

For us it means less griping and more giving.

Less independence and more interdependence. As much as I appreciate how we get things done on our own, we must acknowledge that we need one another’s ideas and different opinions and then work together toward common goals as much as possible.

Less of me and more of the other.

Less energy spent worrying about every little thing and more energy spent on eternally important matters.

We were born worlds apart but our playful, infinitely wise God saw fit to cross our paths during a freshman seminar class in 1993. He was not mistaken.

So here’s to another 15 years of growing in love and learning to love because we want to do so, not because the other person tells us to do so. Another 15 years of this wild, relentlessly unexpected life where our hearts still thump for one another. Another 15 years of remaining, abiding love.