5 Reasons I’m Glad I Got Married

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I’m not advising you to get married.

I’m also not suggesting that married people have more fulfillment in their lives than single people. I’m simply sharing my experience because I expected to hate marriage.

Weird, right?

I’d heard about how “hard” marriage would be, and I experienced a lot of fear and indecision beforehand, so I can honestly say that my marriage has turned out to be a pleasant surprise. Sometimes it’s nice to recall the good decisions that you’ve made.

Here are five aspects of married life that I love:

1. Companionship

Ordinary tasks take on more meaning when you share them with someone. I’ve always felt this way. Even in college, when a dear friend helped me clean my dorm room, the chore became a bonding experience. Now that I’m married, grocery shopping or cooking dinner can become a date. My husband calls this “life-ing” together.

I’d much rather fold laundry for us than for me. Long drives to audio gigs become special memories. Yard work becomes an opportunity for conflict management. Watching Netflix on the couch doesn’t feel like a waste of time because we get to cuddle. Companionship imbues my mundane moments with a greater sense of purpose.

2. Friendship

Growing up, my best girlfriends and I giggled about the same boys. We stayed up late, watching Disney movies and eating raw cookie dough. We wore matching outfits. Honestly, marriage feels a little like that sometimes.  My husband and I sit around the house most evenings, telling each other about something cute our cat just did.

We stay up too late on work nights watching funny YouTube videos. We reference obsolete Office quotes and laugh at our own jokes. We have long phone conversations while driving, sharing every uninteresting detail of our day. We eat ice cream straight from the carton and record music videos together. Basically, we’re besties.

3. Company

I don’t do well on my own. Once upon a time, when I lived in a house full of siblings, parents, and grandparents, I craved “alone time” to play with my beanie babies. As an adult, I have discovered that I need someone with me. My semester in Oxford, England first impressed this lesson on me, and married life has provided further confirmation.

It’s not that I can’t ever be alone. Sometimes I enjoy a nice hot bath, a novel, or an evening to myself to clean the bathroom sinks. I recently flew to California for a one-night business trip, and I didn’t have a nervous breakdown in the hotel room. After a day or two without quality time, though, I get sad. My husband makes me feel more secure.

4. Partnership

I think this is the part people are talking about when they say that marriage is “hard.” You react immaturely to a stressful situation, and your spouse gets to see the worst side of you. Then your spouse hits a low point, and you wonder how the two of you will ever recover. In the worst of times, you sink simultaneously. Those times really stink.

The way I see it, everyone goes through something horrible at some point, married or otherwise. No, it’s not fun to bear someone else’s burden. It’s also not very enjoyable for them to carry yours … but we have no other option. I don’t know about you, but I certainly can’t handle my issues alone.

5. Growth

Stagnation is probably my worst fear. Fortunately for me, it’s literally impossible to remain stagnant when you’re married–at least, that seems to be the case for Evan and me. We push all of each other’s buttons, which means that we have lots of … opportunities to mature. We don’t have a choice if we want to get along.

Most recently, my husband is learning to balance his work and home life, and I’m learning to give him space when he needs it. We’re both finding these lessons to be very challenging, but we’re better for it (I hope). I’d like to say that I’m a little more of an adult since getting married: more confident, more capable, and a tad less self-focused.

Jesus does all of this, too.

I’m abundantly relieved to discover that married life can be so great. I’m also learning, though, how much I still need Jesus.

It makes sense to me that the Bible calls Jesus the Bridegroom. Of course we all need constant, supportive people in our lives, but Jesus does it best. He’s willing to be our Companion, Friend, and Helper. He knows exactly when to push us and when to be gentle. He promises never to leave us alone.

I sure hope this blog post doesn’t discourage you if you’re not married because Jesus wants so much to be all of this for you and more. He wants that for me, too. As much as I rely on my husband, Evan can’t be my only source of strength. Jesus can.

I’m thankful to have both of them.

Love,

The Reluctant Bride

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You’re Doing a Good Job

I’m going to say this again because you need to hear it:

You’re doing a good job.

Keep going. Don’t get discouraged; don’t give up. Right now, you can’t see the progress because you’re too close to the situation. I promise you’re becoming something beautiful.

Recently my husband and I have been working on communicating better about a few hot-button topics, and it’s been rough. After three years of marriage, I noticed that we tended to repeat the same arguments, and every time those issues came up, things got a little more heated. It had finally gotten to the point where we weren’t talking about those subjects any more. We were only fighting about them. Something had to give.

We started trying to develop some healthier habits, but the process was extremely emotional. I came close to quitting because I didn’t see any difference. (Just to clarify, I considered giving up on the habits, not the marriage. We love each other a lot and are committed for life. Didn’t want you to worry.) Then, over the holidays, my sister made a passing comment about how happy and connected we seemed. It took me by surprise.

Really? We seem happy and connected?

Since then I’ve noticed it myself, but at the time my family’s encouragement gave me the boost I needed to keep trying. That’s what I’m praying this blog post does for you.

Now, because we’re sinful human beings in need of a Savior, I do need to acknowledge the possibility that you’re not doing a good job. Maybe you’re giving in to your fears. Maybe you’re harboring unresolved bitterness.

Believe me, I’ve been there. Back when I resisted marrying my husband, I knew perfectly well that I was allowing fear to rule me … but recognizing my failure didn’t help. After all, I didn’t want to give in to anxiety. At the time, I honestly didn’t feel like I had control. In that scenario, there’s only one thing to remember:

You may not be doing a good job, but Jesus is.

You may not be doing a good job, but Jesus is.

Looking back at my worst moments, God inevitably used them for my benefit. In that dark, dark season when I thought God had abandoned me, He was working toward a display of His glory that would leave me stunned. So if you’re not at your best currently, don’t sweat it. Trust God to be better. In the meantime, I’m here to reassure you that yes, you will get there eventually. Don’t lose heart.

I sincerely believe that right now, today, you are doing a good job. More importantly, however, your heavenly Father always does a good job — and He loves you so, so much.

Love,

The Reluctant Bride

Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. – Philippians 1:6 (NIV)

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The Danger of Needing to Be Right

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Last night two young women knocked on my door to talk about Jesus Christ.

They introduced themselves with the word “sister” in front of their names. They seemed earnest and polite, so I didn’t mind speaking with them initially. I assured them that I already had a close, personal relationship with my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. They wanted to know if I was active in my church, and I said yes. Then they asked which church I attended. The conversation became significantly more awkward from there.

Clearly, I wasn’t the right kind of Christian.

Clearly, I wasn’t the right kind of Christian.

They eventually presented me with the Book of Mormon, along with a tract that probably originated in 1990, judging by the clothes of the people featured in the photos. They insisted that the Book of Mormon was the Word of God, equal in value to the Old and New Testaments, and they informed me that Joseph Smith was God’s prophet to America.

I told them that I thought they were very brave to knock on strangers’ doors and talk openly about their faith, and after they left, I read the tract in its entirety.

Those girls didn’t make me angry, but that tract certainly did.

How dare Joseph Smith claim that he has the corner on the gospel. How dare the Church of Latter-Day Saints dismiss most of church history as “apostasy.” Most importantly, where did the followers of Jesus Christ get the idea that we need to be right?

I had a lot of issues with that tract, but the question that bothered me most pertains to all Christians. Does it really matter if people believe the “right” things?

Does it really matter if people believe the “right” things?

No.

We seek truth; we debate; we discuss; we learn; and above all we love. We try to discern the character of God in order to offer Him the Worship He deserves. We ask humbly for Him to align our characters with His. We serve; we encourage; we struggle; we pray. We share the gospel with other people because we want the best for them. We cry with the psalmist: “Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him” (Psalm 34:8, NIV). We have seen His transformative work in our own lives, so we want to spread that joy to others.

Why did those girls talk to me? What did they want? Only God knows their true intentions, but at the heart of Joseph Smith’s message seems to lie one nefarious assertion: I am right. May all Christians examine our motivations immediately, trembling lest we discover in our own hearts the urgent desire to be right. All day I have been asking myself, “Why do I want to share my faith with others?” If I’m honest, I’m not sure that I like the answer.

Love,

The Reluctant Bride

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Daniel Swanson Photography

The Trouble with Stress (Why I’m Not a Newlywed)

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  1. Stress makes you grind and clench your teeth while you sleep.
  2. Stress makes you buy expensive mouth guards from the dentist.
  3. Stress gives you migraines.
  4. Stress makes your eyes cross so that you can’t read your emails at work.
  5. Stress makes you stop drinking coffee.
  6. Stress brings you back to your Bible.
  7. Stress helps you open up to friends and family.
  8. Stress, like everything else, comes from God to teach you something.
  9. Stress allows you to recognize that you’re handling it better this time.
  10. Stress propels you from one phase of life to another.

I’m not a newlywed any more.

I acknowledged this fact sitting on the couch with my husband, holding his hand. We clearly loved each other — and even liked each other — but it felt different because we chose to feel and act that way. Let me explain.

For large portions of our early marriage, we rode the wave of our fickle emotions. Since my husband and I are very, very emotional people, that was a pretty wild ride. Sometimes we were giddily in love, and sometimes we were desperately miserable. Sometimes those two emotions occurred within the span of a few hours.

For reasons outside of our control, June had been a hard, heavy month. We felt the heaviness on the night of our transition from newlyweds to regular married people. No amount of conversation could lighten the burden, so we were silent together. Then we watched the World Cup and held hands on the couch because we were married.

No matter what.

And I felt proud of us because being sad together, with no obvious solution or end to the sadness, requires courage and a portion of maturity — and when did that happen?

Being sad together requires courage.

It’s funny because, back when I was making up my mind about marrying him, I kept telling myself that marriage would be so hard because everyone said it was so hard. I kept envisioning a future full of angst and fights and stomach aches. Now I’m living in that part of marriage, I guess, but “those people” weren’t exactly correct.

I think what frustrates me the most about statements like marriage is hard is that they’re such sweeping generalizations; they don’t give you an accurate or compelling picture of what so hard actually feels like . . . because you know this person so well and love his soft lips and stubbly face and want him to hug you tightly even when you’re deeply sad.

To say that marriage is so hard misses the point of marriage, which is your spouse. It also ignores the forward trajectory of marriage, which never stays in the same place for long. My newlywed phase only lasted two and half years, and that’s not a bad thing. Just because I’m stressed out right now doesn’t mean that I can’t be happy, too.

Love,

The Reluctant Bride

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Daniel Swanson Photography

When the Wedding Day Is Over

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Fifteen months into our marriage, we’ve left the honeymoon phase behind us.

Like any normal human beings, we get grouchy. We nurse hurt feelings, pouting on the drive to the gym. We get confused, conveying rejection unintentionally. He retreats to the basement to edit songs; I jog to the park to cry.

Most recently we sat on opposite ends of the bed, Evan facing the wall while I clutched my knees to my chin. I’d been praying for a breakthrough, but this didn’t feel like an improvement. I couldn’t stand another angry night. Tugging open the drawer in my bedside table, I started tossing books onto the floor until I found the one with the teal cover, a marriage book we’d purchased during engagement but never finished.

“Put your phone down.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked you to.”

I started to read out loud, my voice tight with emotion. This author — a Christian marriage counselor — would certainly set my husband straight, illuminating his mistakes while solving my frustration. A few sentences into the chapter, however, I experienced the uncomfortable prickle in my throat that accompanies conviction.

The author addressed wives directly, using words like laziness that felt unpleasantly pertinent. Tears trembled in my voice while I finished the final paragraph because, according to this wise man, my husband’s “unreasonable” responses over the past few days stemmed from a legitimate grievance. After wrestling with my pride for a moment, I mumbled an apology.

The next morning, we discovered that God had sent a breakthrough after all: a little humility had softened my heart enough to erase the sting of previous conversations. We spent the weekend gobbling donuts on the couch while binge-watching Parks and Recreation, totally in love.

Maybe as the newness fades, the real growth begins.

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Maybe as the newness fades, the real growth begins.

The trees outside my office flowered on Friday. Breathtaking white and pink blossoms coated every branch. I strolled beneath the trees on my lunch break, brushing pollen with my fingertips, leaning close to inhale — but the flowers only lasted for the day. When I returned on Monday, petals carpeted the ground. In their place peeked fresh green leaves.

Fifteen months ago, we filled my parent’s small mountain church with flowers — yellow roses, baby’s breath, deep purple carnations — so many we couldn’t find enough vases to hold them. White lights twinkled through yards of fluffy tulle. A lace train trailed behind me wherever I walked. We initiated our marriage extravagantly because love is worth celebrating, but we haven’t lost anything now that our wedding day lives only in photos. Instead, we’ve gained a smidgen of experience.

Hopefully we love each other a little better because of it.

Love,

The Reluctant Bride

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See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! – 1st John 3:1

Why I Am my History

My mom meets me at Starbucks to watch old home videos.

She has recently taken a step into the 21st century by converting them to DVD, so we share earbuds and play them on her laptop, laughing so loudly that the other coffee drinkers stare at us.

They’ll get over it.

Viewing scenes from my past – many of which I don’t remember – a strange feeling swells in my chest.

I see my smaller self curl on the lap of my grandpa, who passed away a few years ago. A pacifier protrudes from my mouth; I’m wearing pajamas with feet in bright primary colors.

Suddenly it’s Christmas, and I hold an armful of plastic animals, surrounded by wrapping paper. A giraffe drops from the couch, so I turn to the camera with round eyes to pronounce, “Uh-oh!” Auntie Ann crouches next to me so we can play zoo together. My grandma comments off-screen.

A few moments later and many years older, I stand in a crowd of children singing the soundtrack to Mulan. A taller kid partially obscures my pale, nervous face. My little sister twirls nearby in a floral dress, oblivious to the performance. After the final song, I approach the camera to hear my mom’s praise, concern melting into a smile.

Jump to a wedding. The camera sways wildly before focusing on my fat baby brother. He’s unsteady on his feet, dressed in a little blue suit. He approaches a pair of skinny legs – mine – and lifts his arms, wanting to be held. I heft him onto my hip and wave his chubby fist, instructing him to smile at the camera.

The DVD ends in a few moments of visual fuzz. I allow the sounds of the coffeeshop to wash over me, considering the feeling that has been expanding inside of me since we hit play. It’s as if the little knots in my stomach have loosened. The tasks ahead; the conversations behind; these small cares that I carry with me have momentarily evaporated.

I am so loved.

In every home video, family surrounds me. As the first grandchild, my babyhood constitutes the sole focus of a large group of devoted adults. As the oldest sister, my childhood fills with firsts: the first student; the first performer; the first friend to my two sweet siblings. At the time I took it all very seriously. Observing the scenes years later, I notice something new.

There has never been anything to worry about.

All the events that consume my thoughts become nothing more than memories captured in film. One day, this moment will slip away, too. The fear will fade. In its place will linger the deep affection that marks me like a thousand fingerprints tattooed on my skin. I am precious. I am noticed. I am loved.

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There’s a word for this feeling: perspective. When I witness my life from a distance, I recognize the consistent theme woven into every season. I am still the small child curled in my grandfather’s lap. I am still the nervous singer onstage. I am still the bossy sister ordering a baby to smile. Above all, I am the beloved daughter with a camera pointed at my face because I matter.

I leave the coffeeshop refreshed, alive to the details of this day. If I am my history, then I am something warm, safe, and happy. Therefore I may enter adulthood fortified by a past rich with tenderness.

Thank you, Mama, for reminding me.

Love,

The Reluctant Bride

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How to Handle Happiness

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These days there aren’t any life-altering decisions looming in my future.

I’m not grappling with fear, doubt, or uncertainty. God hasn’t thrown any major trials my way recently. Instead, my days overflow with interesting conversations, pleasant people, manageable tasks, and the ordinary weariness of a forty-hour work week. Weekends are even better: late mornings cuddling with my husband; snowy mountain excursions with our parents;  trips to the movies; restaurant dinner dates; hours of making music in church.

In short, I’m happy — and I’m not sure how to deal with it.

I’m not sure how to deal with happiness.

During a recent sermon, my pastor opened the altar for prayer. “Whatever you’re facing, no matter how big it seems, God can handle it. Trust him.” I saw people kneel, weeping as they poured out their pain before the Lord. I remembered the tears that dripped from my own eyes not so long ago when I felt like God had abandoned me. I recalled the desperate prayers and the hours spent searching the scriptures for answers. I pictured the 4×6 index cards that I once carried in my purse in the event of panic attacks: “Do not be anxious in anything . . . . How great is the love the father has lavished on us . . . . There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”

There was a time when a pastor’s prayer drew me to the altar, needy and hurting. Now, when I examine my heart during quiet moments of contemplation, I find it whole. During such moments my happiness sometimes worries me.

As I see it, there are two problems with happiness:

  1. God doesn’t tend to reveal himself clearly during the good times.
  2. Happy times lead to sad ones.

As for the first problem, any Christ follower will acknowledge that they have experienced God’s presence most potently during their worst trials. Looking back on the milestones of my spiritual journey, I inevitably glimpsed glory through pain. As my sense of urgency  faded, however, my connection with the Spirit seems to have dwindled as well.

The second problem saps some of the sweetness from my days by whispering, “This too shall pass. You won’t always feel cheerful and confident. Someday, you’ll endure troubles again.” Since no season lasts forever, this one must eventually end.

What I seem to be forgetting is that the same God who carried me through suffering also orchestrates my pleasure. Just as he brought pain into my life because he loved me, so now he offers me joy because – you guessed it – he still loves me!

The same God who carried me through suffering now orchestrates my pleasure.

I don’t need to feel guilty about my lax in spirituality as if I somehow control my relationship with God. Of course I should continue to seek him through prayer and scripture, but I don’t need to carry the burden of measuring my spiritual progress. Neither do I need to fear trials in my future because as James reminds us, “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows” (1:17, NIV).

In other words, this season comes to me straight from the hands of a good God who loves me lavishly. If he has given me a job that I like, a husband who showers me with affection, and a family that supports me, I’d better doggone well enjoy it. And when this season trails into another, that will be alright, too, because the same God will be there.

My prayer for this year is that my soul will remain alive to the movement of the Spirit even while my heart rests from the troubles of yesterday. Above all, I want to overflow with gratitude for the good things that fill my days because there are so many of them.

Love,

The Reluctant Bride

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A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap . . . . – Luke 6:38 (NIV)