Marriage Moats-Angels on Earth

Published: Sun, 03/13/11

Marriage Moats

Caring for Marriage

It would be easier to love people if we could just see their wings.

But most of us are bareback, and decidedly earth bound.

My own mother had a version of brokenness that made a relationship hard, at least when the manic episodes kicked in. It is dangerous getting close to someone who knows you well enough to slash, and has lost all reticence to do so. Eventually my father decided he could partner her best from across the country. Mom pretended it was his health that forced him to the desert, but she knew. I remember in my twenties believing fiercely that she could conquer this if she tried hard enough. How quaint.

My little boy has another strand of brokenness... autism. He can claw and hurl pointy words too, and though I wish I could swear I always duck, it is not so. Too often they strike full force and I hurl back sharp rebuttals that I am not proud of.

"I want a different Mama!"

"Great! Go find one! I bet they are lining up for the job!"

I chased the therapies and miracles that have brought other children back from the isolation of autism. But lately I have settled into acceptance.

"This is how he is."

The longer I live the more I suspect that broken is the human condition. Some of us have convincing Band aids, and cover up the emotional limp with a hop skip. But when we are finally alone, the pain seeps through our thighs and we drag foot to the next way station.

Years ago I thought the solution was obvious. The flaw was in the design. If people would be more reasonable, I could lavish them with affection, never lose my temper and all would be swell. Once my mother stopped her manic foolishness, I would be the perfect daughter. The moment Benjamin was cured and cooperative, I would become the quintessential parent.

But what kind of accomplishment is it to love someone who is whole? I may as well ask for a prize for loving chocolate. Can I offer my compassion to fill in the holes of someone else's ruptured spirit, even when it costs me dearly?

I listened to a friend whose husband is stuck. His willingness to give affection has dried up, and he seems to have no interest in changing. It is lonely and hard to love someone whose capacity to respond has atrophied. But maybe he is just another brand of broken. Perhaps it is not the lack of trying that keeps him behind an invisible wall. We have not yet found names for the myriad wounds and fears that keep us from flying with abandon.

But one day I believe we will all be filling the sky with feathers.

Photo by Andy Sullivan