A Wife’s Reflection on 12 Years of Marriage
This week we celebrated our 12-year wedding anniversary and it has me thinking back on the many lessons we’ve learned over several years of marriage. As a precursor to what I would like to share I want to mention that I do not often write about the details of my marriage because in many ways there’s been a certain simplicity that I know is not always relatable. I wouldn’t call my marriage hard in any way. We’ve had hard seasons, certainly, but there’s been a particular blessed bond between my husband and I that even through the driest and more taxing of seasons kept our friendship alive. We all have varying experiences within the context of our marriage, and when valid and sacramental we can be assured those particular circumstances are what sparks growth in holiness in both spouses.
Romanticizing Life
As I delve into the chamber of thoughts enveloped by my own experience I want to clarify that my romanticizing this relationship is a part of what I do. I’ve found that the good and the bad, sickness and health, happy moments and sad, and joys and suffering all intertwine to create a tapestry of life that is abundantly beautiful when united to Christ. Marriage is a mission. It’s a commitment to friendship through thick and thin. It is the doe-eyed lovers, whose love begets life and love, calling upon each other to a deepened responsibility and willingness to die to self.
I did not always want to get married. In fact I often attempted to break off the relationship prior to marriage in fear of what would change over the years: would he always love me? Would he be faithful? Would I continue to make him happy? Could we live out this dream of a large Catholic family life without the experiential knowledge in the style of parenting that we hoped to live out for our children?
All I can say is the Lord answered swiftly and provided abundantly. One of the best decisions we made early in marriage was to move down to Florida for graduate school. It was there that we were surrounded by families who were examples of holiness, who helped to heal our wounds, and who lived out a radically pro-life commitment that inspired us in our own family journey.
Prior to this new and healing experience we had others questioning us consistently. There were family members who said they thought we’d never last. Concerned friends voiced their thoughts on choosing graduate school and adventure over settling down with a steady job. Questioning onlookers expressed their curiosity about how we could be open to children right away.
There was a grace that came with all these things which made us stronger, more convicted, and more willing to swim against the tides of the culture. For my husband that meant a lot of theological digging and reading about parenting and liturgical living. For me it meant realizing that holiness was found in the context of the home, loving my husband and children. Something I thought prior was impossible: for didn’t I need to do something big to love big?
I learned that romance and sanctity was found in the everyday moments in life, and I could either foster it or grow weary.
Children As a Means to Holiness
Two weeks after our first wedding anniversary our first child came into the world. I never knew a love existed like the one I experienced when she was placed in my arms. My heart swelled along with the sleepless nights and the colic she had; the sudden pull outside of myself was a season of putting aside my own desires and entering into the precious throngs of motherhood.
About every two years thereafter a new child would join our family, and our married love within the context of family life deepened with the onset of the joys and trials that came along with each new addition. I developed an autoimmune disease. My deliveries were complicated. I would go on to miscarry four times over the span of five years (we were able to bury two of those babies, something both healing and heartbreaking). I faced my own death with a hemorrhage, and then again with the delivery of our fourth child. When our fifth child came we were in the midst of an overseas move, and we thought certainly we would drown from weariness.
Tested By Fire
And about that last bit. After ten years of marriage, we finally experienced a trying time in our friendship. The outpouring of service for the sake of our family and the onset of work for my husband brought a certain desert-time to our friendship. We realized we had to be more intentional than ever to date, to talk, and to be present to one another and keep the flame alive. We were busy and tired, both physically and mentally. But the Lord spoke in quiet whispers:
Love ever more deeply. Commit all the more. Love is tested by fire.
We increased our prayer, rather than dropping it. We told God our troubles rather than trying to hide it. We had hard conversations with one another because it was worth it. He was worth it, and I was worth it to him. We argued through the challenges, yet through it all our love enhanced and deepened, and our commitment to each other was strengthened.
Twelve Years In
We have surpassed those trials and entered into a new springtime again of falling in love. I suppose that is a lesson in and of itself: marriage is filled with hills and valleys, and we all want more than fair-weather friends. If I could leave you with any marriage advice it would be this:
Be intentional about loving your spouse
Honor your husband and always speak well of him
Commit your whole heart to God, your spouse, and your family
Foster your friendship
Fall in love with the outpouring of service necessary to sustain a joyful family life (and in hard moments ask the Lord for the grace to find joy in it)
The grace from the sacrament of marriage is powerful. It carries us through life in all of its complexities with rays of hope and sweetness found in self-sacrificial love. As St. Thérèse of Lisieux put it: “My vocation is to love.”