Marriage Part 1: The Root

One day at work not long ago, a very cynical co-worker of mine was saying that there is no such thing as being happily married, as I had heard many times before from other jaded husbands who outwardly regret the commitment they have promised themselves to. He basically said that one can be contentedly settled, but no one truly finds the fuel to their heart flame and is really madly in love after years of marriage. He had this air about him, as if to say "you just wait, kiddo, you'll soon know". But I don't care what people say, and I don't care how much longer they have been married than I, we are truly an exception to the rule.

But it scares me to think that my husband and/or I may wake up one day and realize that he was right. We are no different than the other bitter old couples. We know each other through and through, there is no longer a desire or a need to explore each other, to learn about each other, to love each other with enthusiasm. That would be one of my worst nightmares becoming reality. 

I was created to be married, I am convinced of it. When I was around seven years old, my brother and I would go over to the friend's house across the street from my aunt's house and play. I always wanted to have a pretend wedding. I wanted to be a bride, and to live happily ever after with the best man in the land. Later, in grade five, I was 'boyfriend-girlfriend' with this guy in my class, Ryan Monaghan. He would 'date' me, which really meant that during art class we would sit together, and then 'break up' with me and 'date' my best friend. He kept going back and forth and I was so heart broken because the whole time I just wanted for him to love and marry me. He was not my first crush, though. My first crush, Jason D. (I can't remember how to spell his last name) had me so hooked and he didn't even know it. I wrote him a song while doing flyers with my best friend (the same best friend who kept getting in the way of Ryan and I, who I'm positive is gay now) and mailed it to him, hand written on my best stationary with my favourite perfume gracing the pages. He lived close to home so I went to his house just to be near him. I was his dad's favourite Sunday School student, and he joked about me going on a picnic with his family. I remember so clearly in my mind the quick talks I would have with Jason in passing. I was obsessed with him, and with the idea of being with him forever. The high school sweetheart thing was a most appealing idea for me, and I wanted so badly to find that person as quickly as possible.

Obviously, it never worked between Jason and I, and later in life, in grade eleven, I met this guy who gave me the attention that I yearned for. I moved out shortly after meeting him because my home life was extremely unhealthy, and we were free to be together. He was older, seemed established, goal oriented, and mature. I was young, spirited, and insecure and found it quite easy to fall for him, much like I had fallen for all the cute boys in the past. We dated for a year and at one time I sat with my mom, and when she asked I told her "yes, I want to marry him. He is the one". He wasn't.

My dating life has been overcome with disappointment after disappointment. I would meet someone, fall for him so quickly, fling my abnormally fragile heart and soul in his general direction hoping with any part of me that was left that he would catch it, that he would be the one, and he wasn't. Until I met my husband.

He really was my knight. He wanted the same things as I did, he is ambitious and loving and, best of all, when I slightly more cautiously lobbed my heart and soul towards him, he caught it. He held onto it like it were his most prized possession. He covered the bruises, nurtured the open wounds, and told me that no one would toss it away anymore, because he was here and he was here to stay. He has kept his promise. We have been together for over three years now, married for one, and he still sends me a love message every single morning. He still gets me a glass of water every night for my nightstand. He still opens the car door for me every time we are driving somewhere together. He still loves me with the same passion and consistency that he did when we first met, only now the love is more deeply rooted, more stable, more true and real.

Love

I recently congratulated a friend's wife as she is having a baby. But I surprised even myself at what I said. Instead of the traditional "congratulations, know what the sex is, blah blah blah" I said to her "praying for you both, that your marriage will be strengthened in this time, that it will be a firm foundation on which to have a family, and that you both will always put each other first". Perhaps that is where the disconnect is. Perhaps it's not in falling out of love or knowing each other too well, it's in not putting each other first twenty some-odd years later as you did just months or a few years into your commitment. God bless my marriage, that though we will struggle with making each other first priority over everyone else, we will not forget that a healthy house starts at the root; at us. 

-SP