THE MARRIAGE MIX

“Love is patient . . . “                                                                                                    1 Corinthians 13:4

I am listening to the song of a very large wind chime out the window.  And it’s song reminds me of patience.  It is deep and low.  Slow.  Quiet.  Certainly not in a hurry.  It waits for the next gust of wind, happy to respond when it comes but not causing it to happen.

If I were to personify this old wind chime and its sounds, I imagine an old grandfather, probably chubby and teddy bear-like in all the right ways, sitting on a bench, waiting for his grandchild.  He is in no hurry.  No rush.  He is not worried about moving along, and yet, he is completely engaged.  He watches his grandchild play and move about with commitment and interest.  He finds joy in the watching.  In the waiting.  He savors this time.  Though there are other things to do today, he knows that this matters too.  This time is valuable, even though it might not appear that way to the naked eye.

As I shared on Wednesday (and heard a resounding “YES!” from you), I find that it is so easy to become disinterested and frustrated with the state of affairs in my relationship with Herb.  I see things I don’t like; maybe things that worry me.  And I want change now.  When I moan and complain about what we are or what we are not, Herb often reminds me to consider one important thing: context.  So, when I say, “We don’t have sex as often as So-And-So, what is wrong with us???”, he gently reminds me that he is an entrepreneur that comes home tired and that I live with a great deal of physical pain that often puts me in bed by 9 PM.  And not in bed in a sexy sort of way.  More like a comatose, fleece-clad sort of way.

Context.  Reality.  Breath.

Patience.

I want to sit back and enjoy my marriage the way it is today.  I want to give it a break for not being all I hoped it would be.  I want to appreciate what is, and let it be what it needs to be (or even, just is) today.  It will be so interesting to see what it grows into; what it becomes.  If I (or any of us, really) leave now, it would certainly put an end to the irritating process of waiting; the pain of living in a marriage that sometimes feels incongruent with who I am and what I want.   And I would completely walk away from everything that my marriage would be after this season.

Sitting on the park bench, watching my young marriage leap and stumble is so hard sometimes.  I watch as it skins its knees and drinks juice boxes (okay, boxed wine).  It spends too much time on the merry-go-round and rarely tries out the swings.  Oh, it can be so frustrating to watch.  I just want to charge through the sandy playground, grab that little rascal of a marriage by its ear and drag it over to the other toys.  Make it grow up faster.  Do different things.  Do what I want it to do.  But if I did that, it would not become what it really is.  It would be sort of skewed and tainted with my harsh words and expectations.    And so I wait. With hands folded neatly in my lap.  And I watch.  I wait.  I strive to be patient.

What is it like for you to be patient with your marriage as it grows and changes over time?

(If you see anything here that you like, disagreed with, or related to, leave a comment!  I would love to hear your voice!)

It is not a secret that Herb and I have both thought about ending our marriage on occasion.   For me, this normally takes place during a massive argument, when my brain feels like somebody poured a bag full of flaming hamsters in there.  As the little rodents are tumbling and bumbling around, all I can think of over the sound of their piercing squeaks is: “Get me out of here - NOW!!!”.  Once the hamsters find their way to a  watering hole and extinguish the flames, this line of thinking is quickly quenched as well.  Then we begin the cycle of reuniting and as I slowly regain my sense of balance, I remember that there are few places I would rather be than with my man.

In much scarier moments (or sometimes entire seasons of life), the desire to leave our marriage and start over in my own little studio apartment with a sunny yellow kitchen pops up out of the blue.  On these occasions, I feel my body filling with fear.  Partly because there is not an argument to explain these feelings, thereby convincing me (for at least a moment) that my heart actually desires to leave my marriage.  A great deal of the fear is rooted in the fact that I don’t even like the color yellow for a kitchen!   When living with a yellow kitchen is preferable to the life I am leading now, I know I am discontent.  And that makes me sad.  

There have been a few points that stand out in our marriage that would leave both of us “justified” in the eyes of our friends and families if we left.  Oddly, these are not any of the reasons I would actually leave.  There is not a specific instance or circumstance that would motivate me to leave.  No, if I packed my bags and left a note, it would simply read this:

“Dear Herb,

I love you, but this is  just is not what I wanted for my life.  

Please forgive me.

Love, Cara”

For all of the things that I love (and like) about my husband and who we are as a team, it is not everything that I was hoping for out of love.  I want more romance.  And fewer awkward pauses when we are talking on the phone .  We have been together for almost five years - why the awkward pauses, I don’t know.  I want more passion in the bedroom and less passion in our arguments.  I want to go on more hikes.  This one is especially humorous because I have chronic back pain, and have no business hiking.  And yet, I envision fit and trim versions of Herb and Cara, trotting through the woods on a Sunday afternoon, clothed in all sorts of high tech fabrics made for hiking.  We are eating turkey sandwiches and enjoying the view at the summit of a difficult mountain.  What we have is good.  But we don’t have this.  And at least a part of me wants this.

People leave marriages for so many reasons.  Sometimes, leaving has to do with something big that the pair just can’t figure out how to get around.  But I have a suspicion that there are legions of people who, when you strip back the circumstantial reasons, simply left because it was not what they had hoped for.  And it is very easy to convince yourself that if it is not what you wanted, then it was a mistake.  Looking at it this way, it is no wonder we have such a high divorce rate - we live in a culture that simply embraces correcting our “mistakes” and moving on in order to be true to ourselves.

But I have to believe there is another way, a third path.  So I find myself in an interesting sort of “middle place” (to borrow the term from Kelly Corrigan).  I am committed to my marriage and yet, I long for it to be different.  So, is this my exit point?  For some, perhaps many, an unwavering “YES” might resound.  But for me, I believe in something else.  This middle place is often uncomfortable, but it is not powerful enough to make me back away from our marriage.

I stay because if I slow down long enough to pay attention to our daily rhythm, I can see how many things are not just good in our marriage, but actually delightful and full of love.  If I focus on the fact that it is not what I wish it was, I completely miss out on how much I enjoy what it actually is.

I stay because I believe things grow and morph and evolve.   Like an infant that is a mere reflection of who it actually is and what it will become, I choose to trust that our marriage is only just beginning to unfold.   And if for no other reason, I am much too curious to walk away now.  I want to know who and what we will become.  I want to stay in this middle place and see what it might bring about.

(Thank you so much for taking the time to read this.  If you saw something here that you liked, hated, or related to, I would love to hear your thoughts!)

Each week I leave a short story or video blog here about where I saw love in action during the previous week.  Sometimes my story might have to do with my marriage.  Sometimes it won’t.  The point is that if we are looking for love throughout the week, we will have more faith in the power of the love we share with our spouse.

If you wish, please leave your story in the comments section about how you saw love in action last week!  Or write about it on your blog and leave a link to your blog in the comments section (and be sure to link your readers over here so they can see more stories about love in action!).

When I fly, I love to recapture the magic that used to exist at airports.  I imagine my flight attendant’s up-do just a little tidier.  And the baby in front of me dressed in a little sailor suit and dress shoes saved for visits to church, grandmas, and flying the friendly skies.  Sometimes I dress up too (though rarely in a sailor suit), for no reason other than to play the role of mysterious solo traveler (and also, because I suspect one gets better service when they are not wearing a track suit).  Since September 11th, our airport experience has been dehumanized.  It is hard to find a friendly face, especially once you make it to the security line.  And here I am challenged to be kind and patient.

As we stood in the security line on Thursday, Herb reminded me that the smoothies I tucked in my purse to replace an airport style lunch would not make it through security.   I quickly drank one and offered the other to a pudgy middle-aged agent who was organizing plastic zip-lock bags at a table.  “I forgot that I won’t be able to take this through security.  Would you like it?”

Without so much as bothering to look up at me he replied, “I can’t.  Its illegal.”

Suddenly, I despised him.  I became ugly.  “Really?  It would be ILLEGAL for you to drink this???”  I know rules are rules, but I did not understand why he couldn’t be a little sweeter about it.
“No”, he responded in that flat, emotionless tone that is required for DMV employees and TSA agents, “illegal to TAKE it.”   It is as if the government believes that if the people working in potentially stressful situations show any emotion or kindness at all, we, the customer will simply implode!

I was still wound up as I finally made it to the podium to show my boarding pass and identification.  I heard the attendant talking to a short woman at the front of the line, who looked like she might be visiting from South America.  She did not appear to understand what he was saying, “How many people are with you?”   Her and the one man behind her.  Why was he pushing her on something so clear?  She didn’t understand the question.  She stared blankly.  He continued.  “9? 14? 54? How many?”  He shuffled through her documents and figured it out on his own.  “Passport?”  Again, a silent stare from the passenger.  Louder this time, “Can I have your ID???”

Finally, I interjected, “Be patient with her.  She is trying.  She is figuring it out.  She doesn’t understand.”
“I AM being patient.”
“No, you are not being patient.”
“I am a VERY patient person!  Been a single dad for 14 years.”

Suddenly I wondered about him.  Why was he single?  Where had his wife gone? Were his children doing okay?  Later, I found myself grateful that my compassion kicked in, keeping me from saying something like, “Well, I feel sorry for your kids then!”
Quietly, I said it again, “You weren’t being patient with her.”

It was so much more than the fact that his behavior was distasteful, thereby ruining my attempt to reenact international travel experiences of the 40’s and 50’s.  It was sarcastic, rude, and impersonal.   My desire to see justice in our world flared up.  I was angry.

After I finished in his line, I apologized to the couple for his behavior, then found a spot in line to go through the x-ray machines.  Herb got into another line and gave me our signal for “Let’s race!”  It was just what I needed, something to stop taking our airport experience so personal.

I raced.  I won.  As I sat on a bench putting my coat and shoes back on, I felt ashamed.  Why was I so mean?  Why did I get so worked up?  What was wrong with me?

Herb joined me and I said, “Oh! I just got so frustrated with that guy! Did you hear me?”
“Yes, I heard you.  And you did a great job! You needed to say that to him – that was the right thing to do.”

And all at once, the anxiety and tension flooded out of my body and sat in a puddle on the dirty airport floor.  Perhaps the glamor of traveling is dead.  But my husband was on my team and that was all of the good old fashioned chivalry that I needed in the moment.

Where did you see love in action this week?

“It is not intimacy itself that is so distasteful and intimidating to the world but rather the moral condemnation that comes with it.  People crave closeness with one another, but are repelled by the sin that such closeness inevitably uncovers in themselves: the selfish motives that are unmasked, the pettiness that spills out, the monstrous new image of self that emerges as it struggles so pitifully to have its own way.”
-    Mike Mason, The Mystery of Marriage (page 94)

For the past few years, I have been interested in the concept of living in community.  The idea is for a few families to intentionally come together and participate in life as a group.  For some, it might involve sharing a living space; for others, it might mean living in close proximity like my friends Kevin and Latonya do with three of their neighbors.  Meals, chores, errands, struggles, children, spiritual journeys – all parts of life are openly and honestly shared and worked on together.  I often feel lost in the concrete jungle that is urban living, so in theory, this modern day throw-back to living in tribes brings me a sense of comfort and belonging in a world that is fast-paced and autonomous.

In the past few months, Herb and I have talked very informally with two different couples about living this way in the distant future.  And in both instances, I felt myself emotionally back away from the idea.  In one conversation I told the husband of a very old friend, “Well, you love me now, but my fear is that if we live so close you will see all of my wounds and issues and you won’t like me anymore.”

If we allow others close – really close – what will they see?  What will they think?  And is that something that I – let’s be honest, we - want to deal with?  Can we hold the weight of the truth that surfaces when we are completely exposed in front of another person?

Most of us ask these questions in our day-to-day lives; it is a normal part of the internal dialogue we hold as we decide how close to allow our friends.  And yet, so many of us entered into marriage with carefree confidence in our decision to marry our partners!  For a culture which so highly values protecting ourselves from being completely seen by our friends, in order to maintain their admiration and appreciation, I must ask: what did we think would happen in marriage?  That we would continue this dance of monitoring exactly which parts of ourselves are dispensed to the other person?  Did we think that our spouse would see us completely but that the love we have for our each other would have a supernatural ability to free us from seeing those flaws and wounds in a negative light?  Did we assume our love would free us from being hurt by the negative way our partner sometimes responds to seeing us completely?

Many years ago, my friend Andy was telling anyone who would listen about John Eldridge’s book Wild at Heart.  As Andy, with reverence in his voice, described Eldridge’s idea that a man has a deep internal need to have “a beauty to rescue”, I was repulsed.  Aside from the disturbing and offensive connotation that I am little more than Princess Peach, stuck in a tower, until Mario comes to save me, I found the idea terrifying.  As I imagined myself holding onto my prince by the waist as his white horse raced past the ogres and castle guards, over fiery drawbridges and moats filled with crocodiles, I cringed.  What would happen to me when, after all was said and done, my prince turned around as the horse finally slowed to a walk, and said, “Oh.  I risked everything for this?  For you?”

What then?
For Herb and I, this is exactly how it happened (give or take an ogre or two). Herb could not have known what it would be like to see all of me.  He knew I was not perfect, but still, he idealized me in a way that resulted in complete surprise and dismay when my deepest self was exposed.  He was unprepared.  And I was unprepared for what it would feel like to be completely exposed; to have all of my woundedness revealed.  And I caused insult to injury in the way I approached my already disillusioned husband as I dealt with it all.  Do not worry – this story has two sides – I was equally surprised and hurt by some of the truest parts of my husband that were exposed after our wedding day.

After six months of marriage, divorce made so much more sense to me than it had before.  In the past, I had ignorantly assumed that divorce was the result of infidelity or not trying hard enough.  I humbly retract these over-generalizations, with full understanding now, that many divorces are simply the result of the shock, dismay, and anger that can come with being completely exposed by another person.  What I am slowly learning is that if we use our hands to hold and comfort the other in their exposed state (instead of using them to push the other away so they cannot see us in our equally exposed state), we will all be much better off.

How have you experienced the complete exposure of yourself that comes with marriage?

Since this blog is all about finding hope that marriages can work (that our generation does not have to follow in the statistical footsteps of our parents) it is my hope to get the word out about this blog, so we can create more and more encouraging, hopeful conversations about love and marriage.

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Easy as pie, right?

Right.

When compared to my marriage, all other relationships seem so one dimensional.  Even the deepest of friendships have boundaries at which point, if crossed, one says, “I can go no further.”  If a friend said something hurtful to me, I would probably take a step back.  I might eventually step towards them again.  I might not.  It would depend on what they said and what our friendship was like before hand.  I might continue in the relationship, but build a wall between us, to protect myself.  At the end of the day, keeping myself safe in my relationships often takes precedence over the relationship itself.  Sometimes that means allowing a friendship to dwindle away in an attempt to be safe.

But marriage is different.  You have something larger than yourselves keeping you attached to one another.  While there are some obvious boundaries violations after which personal safety must take precedence, in general, there are things that can happen in a marriage that might destroy most other relationships.  There are so many nuances to the relationship. In addition to husband and wife, there is a third, mysterious element present.  It is the marriage itself - the thing that is created by her and him, coming together and creating something that only exists when they are together.

At first, it is like a tender green shoot, alarming us all by coming up out of nothing but dirt after a long, harsh winter.  Fragile and frail, it must be protected.  Over time, I suspect, this third element becomes stronger and less vulnerable.  I like to believe that eventually it becomes so strong that its participants develop super-hero-like powers.  I am convinced that during year five we will finally be able to start reading each others minds.  Think of the minutes we would save on our cell phone plan!  On paper that would be the coolest.  In reality, as one who spends the entire day in my own mind, I would never wish that upon anyone and especially not Herb.  Maybe I will start wishing for the ability to fly instead.

Mind-reading aside, I have observed that despite its need for protection, the new marriage is surprisingly resilient.  Not only that, it has the ability to move me in ways I would never move myself.  I have found myself heeding to its siren call, on more than one occasion, to step closer to my husband in times of distress, rather than walking away.   As a result, I close my eyes and with desperation and reckless abandon, fling myself towards Herb in ways that leave me questioning my general sanity and ability to operate large machinery.

This week, Herb found himself questioning me and my ability to follow through with the things I begin.  As we were discussing this, he said things that left me stunned and wounded.  Looking back, most of these things were said out of his own fears and wounds.  There was truth spun into his words as well.  I spent half the night licking my wounds and the next day in emotional triage.   On the third day, I became angry.  I looked for ways to hurt him.  I threatened to stay home this week while he goes to visit family on the east coast.  But with this third element pushing me closer to him, I had to laugh as I showed him all of my cards, “If I stay home, will THAT make you understand how bad you hurt me?”

As I left my shell of a body sitting in a heap on the only sunny spot of the kitchen floor, I hovered above myself, looking down with disgust.  As I observed myself taking a verbal wrecking ball to any semblance of safety and self-defense, I thought, “NO! What are you DOING?  Do NOT ask him THAT?  Do NOT tell him why you are going to stay home.  Just make him pay for it!  Make him suffer!”

And yet, I am a goner when it comes to my marriage.  As much as I long to push Herb away sometimes, it is impossible to push too hard or for too long.  For better or worse, with Herb, I am invested in something that is larger than him and larger than myself.  I am married not just to him, but more importantly, to the relationship itself.  And so while I might try to keep myself safe, and push him away, in the end, I am undone by the power of belonging to something greater than myself - something that only exists when I remain close to the man I married.

Each week I leave a short story or video blog here about where I saw love in action during the previous week.  Sometimes my story might have to do with my marriage.  Sometimes it won’t.  The point is that if we are looking for love throughout the week, we will have more faith in the power of the love we share with our spouse.

You are invited to leave a story in the comments section about how you saw love in action last week!  Or leave a link to your blog in the comments section (and be sure to link your readers over here so they can see more stories about love in action!).

this week i finally sat down

and talked with a friend i have been in conflict with.

she has not been having conflict with me.

just me with her.

she didn’t know.

she thought everything was just fine.

which makes it a good thing

that i decided to talk with her.

it could have gone badly.

very

very

very

badly.

but it went well.

i talked.

and she listened.

and then we switched.

it was beautiful.

sounds simple,

but for two girls who have a history of

solving their problems in ways that can end a relationship,

it was worth celebrating.

the reason we talked and listened

and listened and talked

is because

on that night

last week,

over a glass

(or two)

of table wine,

we chose to listen

over being right.

because we love each other.

and it worked.

Where did you see love in action this week?

My name is Cara Harjes.  I am a writer, a psychotherapist, and a connoisseur of lazy rivers and tiramisu!  Three years ago, I married a wonderful man named Herb.  We were friends first and then had a whirlwind romance.  Within the first three or four days of our honeymoon, things began to slowly shift in our relationship.   At first, we laughed about it, and convinced ourselves that a daily argument was normal for being married just one month.  Within six months, things had gone from shifting to falling apart and we were no longer laughing.  Our love took the backseat to bickering, nagging, tears, and plenty of anger.

That summer, I remember trying to keep my head above water as I thought about how to deal with the mess we had created.  Everywhere I turned, it seemed that stories of difficult marriages always ended in divorce.   From what I was observing, it seemed that if you did not have an easy marriage, ending the relationship was the only option.  For a number of reasons (that I share in this blog), I knew I did not want a divorce, but in our throw-away culture, I had an impossible time finding stories to reassure me that we could find our own path and remain married.

Over the past three years, I have been on a quest to find something in between the “perfect marriage” (a myth) and ending the marriage.  Herb and I might never have a marriage that lands on the easier end of the spectrum, but we are very committed to our marriage.  So, we were left with one choice, to find a “third path”: another way, often unpaved, to navigate our relationship so we may stay together for the 70 years we signed up for!

This blog is the compilation of stories I (and others) have to share about how we have found our “third path”; how we have managed to stay (happily) married even in the midst of some very terrible times in our relationship.

It is not always easy to talk about the things that are tough in our marriages.  Whether it is an ongoing argument, infertility issues, or an affair, everyone faces conflict at some level during their marriage but we don’t always know where to turn during these times.  It is my hope that the stories you find here serve as a voice of encouragement and hope in what can be a very dark time of life.  I don’t have the answers about how to avoid divorce or fix your problems, but I do have a voice of hope to offer – a voice that says it IS possible to stay the course even when things become rocky.

This blog is not a “how to guide” for navigating the ups and downs of relationship, but rather a love letter to marriage itself; a testament that it is possible to create a marriage that works for you and your spouse.  It is a string of stories in which you might see a little bit of yourself and, with a deep sigh of relief, realize you are not alone.