The Truth About Marriage

My daughter, Grace, is eleven years old. She already has a journal in which she has drawn pictures of her future wedding dress, wedding cake, and listed her wedding colors and other such details, including the date of said wedding and the groom involved. She has all the same silly, romantic ideas about love and marriage that most girls have. And as much as I hate to be the voice of reason, I am compelled to speak the truth.

Men are not by nature romantic creatures. They burp, scratch and fart routinely, and approach arguments with a cold kind of logic that completely tramples our sensitive emotions. Romantic moments do happen, but they are the exception and not the rule. After the procession down the aisle in the white dress, the relationship shifts focus. What to cook for dinner, if the bills have been paid, and how to juggle the schedule become the topics of conversation. Add children and pets to the pictures, and piano lessons, homework, and poop maintenance are added to the talk about food and money. Marriage is not about romance. It’s about survival.

Don’t get me wrong. Marriage is great. It’s just not easy. Men and women are as similar as cats and dogs. Cats are delicate and sensitive animals that pick up their paws with dainty precision as they step over your feet propped on the coffee table. Dogs are boisterous and rough, bounding into your lap unexpectedly and showering your face with wet kisses.

As I listen to other women share about their struggles with marriage, I have to wonder why God made women and men so fundamentally different. All the odds are against anyone having a healthy, happy marriage.

And yet they do happen. I think that three of the keys to success are Companionship, Communication and Commitment. I look forward to the end of the day and spending time with Ben, whether it’s cleaning up the kitchen together after dinner, holding hands as we walk the dog, or taking a bike ride together. Communication is something we’re still trying to figure out, and every stellar argument reveals a little nugget of wisdom. But we’re committed to one another. Even when we’re furious with each other.

A few weekends ago Grace attended her Uncle Andrew’s wedding. It was a beautiful wedding, and I’m afraid it just fed into her silly romantic ideas. She was a Dancing Queen at the reception, receiving special lessons from her Uncle Rohan. I was glad she had such a great time and I wish Andrew and Kelly all the best as they move into the real life struggles of marriage. And I pray that one day Grace finds a man who can be her best friend and love her fiercely, even when he doesn’t understand why she’s so emotional.

… Although she might want to consider someone closer to her own height. I think Ben was intimidated by my high heels and had to stand on the step behind me to be sure he was seen in the photo.

I would have felt really bad if I’d blocked him from the family shot at his brother’s wedding.

The Other Way To Ride

Before dating Ben, I hadn’t been on a bike in twenty years. Unless you count the time I was teaching Grace to ride without training wheels and I pedaled around on her baby bike for a few minutes. So what does Ben do? He puts me on a mountain bike in the middle of the woods. Not only did I have to remember how to maintain my balance, but do it as I navigated narrow trails between trees, through creeks, and over roots and rocks. I sustained a few scrapes and bruises on my first few rides, but I was hooked.

My favorite memory was last summer when Ben was encouraging me to jump a fallen log. He had taught me how to jump the summer before, but it had been a while since I’d practiced it. As we sped down the hill, we saw the log across the path. “You can do this!” he shouted back to me. “It’s easy! Just pull up on your front wheels, and—“ the rest of his instructions were lost as he hurled forward over his handle bars and landed with a thud on the ground.

Hitting the brakes and sliding to the side to avoid getting tangled with his bike, I quickly sprang to my feet. “Are you all right?” I asked, relieved when he burst into laughter. Because then I had permission to laugh too. He’d been preoccupied talking to me and failed to time the lifting of his front wheels correctly. He’s actually much better at jumping logs or plunging through ravines than I am.

Mountain biking is a perfect illustration of how Ben and I have influenced each other. He’s encouraged me to be more adventuresome and impulsive. And I’ve encouraged him to slow down and be more cautious. The results being that I have more fun, and he’s had less injuries.

For the record, I’m still resisting his efforts to buy clips for my mountain bike. I like the assurance of knowing that I can put my feet down immediately to steady myself when the bike tries to get away from me. I might be able to navigate the winding trails faster or jump higher, but I’m not ready to risk it yet.

I’m just thankful I have a husband who not only doesn’t mind that I enjoy playing in the woods and getting dirty, but it’s one of his favorite things about me.