On Sunday it will be 12 years since we said our first “I do.” Do you remember that day? The one where we stood as two practical strangers next to each other, reciting vows we had not written or chosen, not touching because that would make me a Jezebel, not allowed to kiss. I was so scared that day. It wasn’t being married that was scary for me, it was the man who was marrying us I was afraid of. I was scared of not acting correctly. I was scared of getting into trouble. Of saying or doing something that would break some rule that I hadn’t learned yet. Or bring an offense I didn’t know could be an offense. That 26-year-old person pleasing pain-ridden girl just wanted to get through the day and not lose her call from the Lord or the family she believed he had given her.
Our marriage was not going to be our own. The foundation of that had already been put into motion. We were “called” to be something special….something different. It was not going to be typical because “God” was using us to show the world a different thing. At least that is what I was told, so I believed. Man, did I believe it so easily? I just ignored red signs and gut checks until my insides were no longer trustworthy. God hadn’t called us to anything special, we were purely pawns in another man’s broken game of life. Objects he used to control and manipulate to bring I don’t even know what to his life. The purpose of his deception to this day is beyond my understanding. I have thoughts and guesses but his dysfunction and brokenness are his, his why never shared.
You didn’t buy it. Although deeply entrenched into the deception, you couldn’t really believe what you were hearing. The rules that you had to walk in order to even be called husband were so outlandish, your heart couldn’t settle on it. Man, you battled. Struggled to get “on board” but in the end, you couldn’t. There was too much truth inside of you. Too much intuitive knowledge of who God was and the rules simply became too much….too far. So you fought. First, you fought yourself…finding the peace that what you were intuiting was right. Then you fought the Lord, imploring him for revelation and understanding, and when you had it….you fought the family. It wasn’t your heart to fight, you wanted them to see what you saw so that they might have the freedom you found. You actually fought for them. It was never painted that way. You were always the enemy. Your revelation demonic and your heart good but misguided.
Of course, I didn’t know any of that because we weren’t really allowed to talk. The private conversation of a husband and wife were not a luxury we had. Connecting at the end of the day about the day’s happening, not an experience allowed us. I was allowed to wash your clothes, serve the family, and at some point bear your children. Those were my allowances within the realm of our “called” relationship, our “set apart” marriage.
It took you a year and a half after the day we said “I do” to get me away. You stayed and fought harder then anyone has ever fought for me. You took a heavy a burden until I was ready to leave and even then the leaving was a hot frickin mess. I technically never left the family, I left you. Funny thing though, they never pursued me. They hide me from you. They supported my leaving you. They used me as a way to get to you. But the minute they knew you were not going back to them all of sudden I was wrong. Wrong for leaving, wrong for staying away, and they could no longer support me. You pursed me though. You stayed in contact. Trusting when you shouldn’t have been. Giving when you didn’t have it to give.
I can’t believe that was 12 years ago. It’s wild to me how much we both honored that yes. That yes in the mess that we were living. How easily we could have chalked it up to a mistake and walked away from each other. Yet we stayed together. Was it because we had Isaac? Or because we had an insane story? I don’t know. It wasn’t like our marriage after we left was a cake walk.
Now no longer afraid of someone outside of the marriage, I realized how afraid of marriage I was. I went into like a cat goes into a bath. Claws out ready to fight all the time. Every wound of every man that I had not healed from or released became a wall between you and me. Every fight I would unload the pain of their choices upon you. One of your greatest fears, to be punished for something you didn’t do.
It was a vice-a-versa, you would sling at me the wounds of your youth. The wounds of others that had been etched on your heart were arrows used to shoot at me, creating this space in which I would never be enough. One of my greatest fears.
Funny how an intimate relationship does that.
We made it though. We fought with each other and at some point, we started to fight for each other. We stepped into marriage counseling for 2 years, learning how to listen to each other, coming to peace with our individual pain and how it shows up in our relationship. I will forever say, even when you roll your eyes, that is the only threesome I will ever do or encourage someone to do. Husband, wife, marriage counselor.
Marriage counseling didn’t save us, it just gave us tools. You see babe, as I look back on it. We were always for each other. It’s like in that crazy mess that was the beginning of us, we were each other’s best allies, although that is not what it looked like on the outside. Or what that man wanted us to be. He actually fought hard for us to never be in each other corners. Yet, here we are 12 years later, and I have never been more committed to someone’s corner then yours. I have never loved another soul the way I love you. I haven’t understood love from another the way I understand love from you. There are parts of my heart and soul that I was sure I would never share because it was too tender, yet they lay before you on a continual basis.
And you with me. There are places you let me that I know none have gone before me. There are entrusted stories, dreams, desires, thoughts, that are shared only with me. You have embraced your emotions, you let them out and you let me in. You model them for our son. We were a team forged in the fire of pain, deception, and manipulation. Instead of fighting the fire, we leaned into it. We let the flames burn away the imperfections, we let the heat melt us down to a liquid, and as we were poured into the mold of life, we became one.
Not the one of sameness, where we think the same, believe the same, or would even do life the same. Not that becoming one but the becoming one where we have respect, grace, and understanding for the differences. Where we give space for our individual journeys, where we give room for pain to breathe, where we give time all that the minutes it demands.
This weekend we are stealing away to have all the private conversations that husbands and wives have. To have unadulterated adult time, doing whatever it is our heart’s desire to do. There is no plan, no daily agenda. Just you and me.
You were my best yes 12 years ago when I had no idea who you were.
You are my best yes today when I have a well-rounded clear picture of who you.
You will be my best yes always.
Love you babe,
P.S. I would change one thing about our wedding day. The date. Mother’s Day weekend is simply not the best weekend to get married. Hotel prices go up, restaurants are busy. It’s a whole thing. We should just let mother’s have those weekends. 😉