Six Years

For five years I’ve felt like a wooden raft adrift in a sea of thrashing waves. They’re tearing me apart. I can’t catch my breath before I’m pummeled by the next one. There’s no hope. It’s dark. I’m cold and wet. And I want out.

I want out of this turbulent marriage.

Since day one we’ve dealt with crisis after crisis in our relationship. Lies. Isolation. Unemployment. Infertility questions. Broken families. Major trust issues. I’ve cried enough tears to create my own ocean. I was drowning in disappointment, shame (for a failed relationship) and hopelessness that it would never change.

In May of this year I told Jake that I was done. For the first time in our relationship, despite wanting to dozens of other times, I finally suggested the d word.

Divorce.

Enough tears. Enough pain. Enough feeling unloved. I was done. So I moved into the guest bedroom. I called my mom and asked her to support me if I chose a divorce. I asked her to affirm me; that I did absolutely everything I could and that God would understand.

To my surprise, she told me no. Divorce wasn’t the right choice. So I hung up on her.

Through a series of events, none seeming super significant, my heart was changed. The blame I placed on Jake melted as I owned my attitude and made changes within myself. Not because I had the energy or even the desire to. But because I felt that following Jesus required me to better myself, regardless of what my husband did or did not do. Out of obedience to God to love others well, I made small changes. I made sure when he walked in the door, home was warm and welcoming. I made more dinners. I stopped interrogating him. I cleaned the house. I stopped focusing on his failures. And most importantly, I sought love and validation from Jesus first (an ongoing process).

I can’t speak for Jake’s journey, but something changed in him too. He helped with taking care of Avery more. He asked about my day. He showed gratitude about the clean house and meals. We even began to laugh together. He started including me in his passions. He invited me to go fishing and I actually said yes. (If you don’t believe in miracles, you should believe in them now).

Around the same time, a year of consistent marital counseling finally began bearing fruit. We talked through issues that had been swept under the rug for five years. To our own astonishment, we worked out deep issues without getting defensive or angry. We empathized for each other. We sought peace for each other. We committed to the process and it worked.

I’ve always hesitated sharing so openly about our struggles. I’ve been eager to share so that other lonely wives could feel relief that they were indeed not alone. On the flip side, I didn’t want to embarrass Jake by airing our dirty laundry. But this morning, with his permission, I share the details so I can invite you to celebrate with us.

Saturday we celebrated six years of marriage.

Instead of being on a broken raft alone, we’re sitting on a mended raft together. Instead of a violent ocean, we’re on a river that’s alive and exciting. It’s going somewhere. And we’re still seeking direction from our counselor. One of the most profound things he told was this: “You’re not here to just survive your marriage. You’re here to have a great marriage. And you can.”

What seemed to be too damaged, too heavy, and irredeemable was redeemed. It took hard work. And will continue to require work. But Jake and I both can speak honestly that we're the happiest we've ever been. Wanting to hang out. Missing each other. Laughing together. And extremely grateful we didn't give up.

We're done just surviving. We are becoming great. It's a process but we're 'all in'.

I love you Jacob Michael.

Thank you for not giving up. Cheers to the next sixty great years...