The Question

My absence from writing can be attributed to many things; new job stresses (in the form of me being given new responsibilities that involve math); career uncertainty (in the form of my bank being sold to another bank); change (in the form of Justin starting a new job tomorrow), household items breaking down (in the form of a $3500 AC condenser and Justin's truck being in the shop).

While all of these things are frustrating, inconvenient and a tad on the expensive side, they all pale in comparison to being witness to immense grief; to hearing other people say all the right things, the Christian things while you drive down the road letting God have it.

Instead of "holding your own loved ones closer tonight" like everyone is telling you to do on Facebook, you try not to distance yourself, the natural inclination that arises when you realize you may not get to keep them forever.

This is the phase of marriage that is hard to write about; it's hard to face; it's ugly.

It's not a funny list of your husband's worst habits. It's not a collection of anecdotes bemoaning the differences between men and women. It's not even about my love of junk food and my loathing of the gym.

It's the reason I have sat in front of a blinking cursor for the past several weeks.

Because sometimes, sometimes you have to come face-to-face with something terrifying; something that trumps blogged about burnt dinners and the mystery of the missing sock in the laundry.

And that scary question is this: If we were handed similar circumstances, would we still be faithful to the Lord? Would we become unified or would we push each other out? If one of us left this Earth, would the other one live out our legacy or become debilitated with anger?

It may be one month in, two months in, a year in. But one day you will look at your marriage in a whole new way; through the lens of that less popular part of your vows that includes that sad stuff that kind of ruins the bubbly Jack Johnson song you have playing in the background.

You wonder about the results of the test, while praying fervently that you are spared the lesson.

This isn't to say that I won't go back to affectionately recounting love's goofy happenings; or will no longer use this as a forum to make people laugh.

I am simply encouraging all couples--young and old-- to recommit to the promises you made to your spouse when your biggest worry was running out of wedding punch;

To recommit to the Lord the decision you made when your biggest worry was not passing out in front of the whole congregation.

Love one another; let the little things slide, realize that pet peeves are nothing more than that; and ask each other tough questions that may require a next-day answer.

It's not always pretty; sometimes the other person may even wonder who they married; but I promise you that growth will result.

No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.
C. S. Lewis