On this 9th Wedding Anniversary, I was thinking about some of the stages our relationship has gone through.
In the beginning, we were in The Honeymoon Stage-the romantic period in which only you and your mate matter. It is when your spouse makes the face of nature radiant with breathtaking light; when you seem to yourself wholly changed from what you were before; when you knew not how to express your devotion to so fair a form; when you wanted a brighter word than bright, and a fairer word than fair; when you became all eye when s/he was present; and all memory when s/he was gone. For me and Alice, this period lasted from 1997 to about 2005.
Then we moved into the The Realization Stage, when the intoxication- the being drunk-in-love kind of passion- faded, and we began to discover each others' true selves for the first time. Of course we had been learning about each other during the Honeymoon years, but at some point, we began seeing each other with more sobriety, and started seeing things in each other that were not as "cute" anymore. This was not bad in any way; it was just real, and necessary.
Then something happened. I hit- maybe she did too, but I can only speak for me at this stage- I hit The Rebellion Stage. This was the most volatile period of our relationship, when I began to yearn for a return to freedom and assert my own self-interest. This period happened after we had our second child. I started feeling smothered with work, with children, with life. I couldn't just get up and go like I was accustomed to doing. We couldn't just go to a movie anymore, or out on a date, or to Europe, Africa, or China as we had done during the first two stages of our marriage, because we needed a babysitter. I started feeling trapped. I was too time starved and sleep deprived to figure out what was going on. If you are in this phase, let me just encourage you to keep showing up. Keep working at it; it will get better. It is at this stage that many marriage fall apart, because they meet someone- or seek someone- who will help them rekindle the feelings of the Honeymoon Stage. Don't do it! Guard your heart!
Now, 9 years in, we are in the The Cooperation Stage. Scholars call this the longest period, when children, increased domestic responsibilities, and careers transform lovers into business partners. Alice and I have never been so busy. Kids, business, ministry, school, speaking, doctors appointments, staples in heads, busted lips, rashes...and the list goes on! This is where we live! In fact, scholars say that this is where we will be living for the next 20 years, in the cooperation stage.
Be that as it may, Alice and I have learned to MAKE time for us. We have to.
We MAKE time to return to our Honeymoon Stage- weekly date-days and monthly date-nights. Annual anniversary trips for just me and her. And a bunch of "just-because" moments. Yes, we are learning to punctuate this stage we're in with intentional, deliberate, and conscious efforts of pure, adult, Manny-and-Alice-World kind of fun. We laugh at each other, and tease each other about how we are growing- and sometimes reverting- as people and as parents.
We both know that we can't stay in our Manny-and-Alice-world for long, because, well, the kids need us. So we return- we keep showing up- day after day, doing our very best to be good stewards of the children, and the life, we've been entrusted with.
Sometimes, in the midst of the chaos, we will look at each other, and pause, and without words, our souls will say to one another, "I see you, and I am so glad you are here with me." There is so much meaning and beauty in it.
This anniversary I am reminded of something that happened to the great English Poet, Thomas Carlyle. He loved his wife, she loved him, and helped him in his career. But she fell ill with cancer and was bedridden, and Thomas was so busy writing that he rarely made time to stay at her bedside. But she did not complain.
After she died, it rained heavily on the day of her burial. After the ceremony at the graveside, Thomas went home, went up into his wife's bedroom, and sat beside her bed. He found her diary, and read this entry: "Yesterday Thomas spent an hour with me and it was like being in Heaven. I love him so." His heart quaked. On the next page he read: "I have listened all day to hear his steps in the hall, but now it is late and I guess he won't come today."
Thomas threw the diary to the floor and ran back to the cemetary through pouring rain. Friends found him face down in the mud on the new grave, weeping, saying over and over again, "If only I had known."
Unlike Thomas, I am so glad that I don't have to wait for some tragedy to befall us for me to know that my life would be incomplete without my Alice; that while I may be the one with all the glory, she is the one with all the strength; and, that God was thinking of me when he made her.
In the beginning, we were in The Honeymoon Stage-the romantic period in which only you and your mate matter. It is when your spouse makes the face of nature radiant with breathtaking light; when you seem to yourself wholly changed from what you were before; when you knew not how to express your devotion to so fair a form; when you wanted a brighter word than bright, and a fairer word than fair; when you became all eye when s/he was present; and all memory when s/he was gone. For me and Alice, this period lasted from 1997 to about 2005.
Then we moved into the The Realization Stage, when the intoxication- the being drunk-in-love kind of passion- faded, and we began to discover each others' true selves for the first time. Of course we had been learning about each other during the Honeymoon years, but at some point, we began seeing each other with more sobriety, and started seeing things in each other that were not as "cute" anymore. This was not bad in any way; it was just real, and necessary.
Then something happened. I hit- maybe she did too, but I can only speak for me at this stage- I hit The Rebellion Stage. This was the most volatile period of our relationship, when I began to yearn for a return to freedom and assert my own self-interest. This period happened after we had our second child. I started feeling smothered with work, with children, with life. I couldn't just get up and go like I was accustomed to doing. We couldn't just go to a movie anymore, or out on a date, or to Europe, Africa, or China as we had done during the first two stages of our marriage, because we needed a babysitter. I started feeling trapped. I was too time starved and sleep deprived to figure out what was going on. If you are in this phase, let me just encourage you to keep showing up. Keep working at it; it will get better. It is at this stage that many marriage fall apart, because they meet someone- or seek someone- who will help them rekindle the feelings of the Honeymoon Stage. Don't do it! Guard your heart!
Now, 9 years in, we are in the The Cooperation Stage. Scholars call this the longest period, when children, increased domestic responsibilities, and careers transform lovers into business partners. Alice and I have never been so busy. Kids, business, ministry, school, speaking, doctors appointments, staples in heads, busted lips, rashes...and the list goes on! This is where we live! In fact, scholars say that this is where we will be living for the next 20 years, in the cooperation stage.
Be that as it may, Alice and I have learned to MAKE time for us. We have to.
We MAKE time to return to our Honeymoon Stage- weekly date-days and monthly date-nights. Annual anniversary trips for just me and her. And a bunch of "just-because" moments. Yes, we are learning to punctuate this stage we're in with intentional, deliberate, and conscious efforts of pure, adult, Manny-and-Alice-World kind of fun. We laugh at each other, and tease each other about how we are growing- and sometimes reverting- as people and as parents. We both know that we can't stay in our Manny-and-Alice-world for long, because, well, the kids need us. So we return- we keep showing up- day after day, doing our very best to be good stewards of the children, and the life, we've been entrusted with.
Sometimes, in the midst of the chaos, we will look at each other, and pause, and without words, our souls will say to one another, "I see you, and I am so glad you are here with me." There is so much meaning and beauty in it.
This anniversary I am reminded of something that happened to the great English Poet, Thomas Carlyle. He loved his wife, she loved him, and helped him in his career. But she fell ill with cancer and was bedridden, and Thomas was so busy writing that he rarely made time to stay at her bedside. But she did not complain.
After she died, it rained heavily on the day of her burial. After the ceremony at the graveside, Thomas went home, went up into his wife's bedroom, and sat beside her bed. He found her diary, and read this entry: "Yesterday Thomas spent an hour with me and it was like being in Heaven. I love him so." His heart quaked. On the next page he read: "I have listened all day to hear his steps in the hall, but now it is late and I guess he won't come today."
Thomas threw the diary to the floor and ran back to the cemetary through pouring rain. Friends found him face down in the mud on the new grave, weeping, saying over and over again, "If only I had known."
Unlike Thomas, I am so glad that I don't have to wait for some tragedy to befall us for me to know that my life would be incomplete without my Alice; that while I may be the one with all the glory, she is the one with all the strength; and, that God was thinking of me when he made her.