Marriage Moats-Full Spectrum

Published: Mon, 01/30/12

Marriage Moats

Caring for Marriage

(If you want to hear Lori read the story click) here

Every day someone takes a moment to respond to Marriage Moats. I am grateful, since I was never one to enjoy an exclusively one sided conversation. It is not always the same person by any means. Different messages resonate for various people.

That is my hope, in offering what could be considered a deluge of emails. No one has to like them all, or even read them all. But my secret wish is that perhaps one in a handful will hit home.

Awhile back there were some stories about discouragement. I believe that is one of the feelings that shows up in marriage. One person wrote to me about what it meant to her.

"Thanks for the open honesty I've been seeing in a few of these moats recently. It's so good to hear that just because marriage is boring sometimes or not full of wonderful conversation, or incredible joy, that somehow, we are still doing OK."

Other times people are touched by more upbeat stories.

"It's nifty, Lori, to read your positive essays that show how marriage should be and will be later in life rather than how hard it is now!"

Both people are writing from their hearts. Both experiences are real.

I heard a talk by a famous quilter once named Jinny Beyer, who held up two quilts. Both were gorgeous, filled with a medley of blues.

"Which one do you like more?" she asked the audience. Without knowing why, I chose the one on the right, along with most of the women there.

"The one on the left has a narrower spectrum of blue fabric. The one on the right has blues stretching into green, brown and purple, with deeper and lighter hues. That is why most people find it more beautiful."

It is true of life as well. As much as I enjoy the bright and colorful times in marriage, I am grateful for the dusky times too. It is because of the contrast that I can even notice that I am blessed. The trees on Jinny's quilt that face down are as much a part of the design as the ones pointing up.

There was a time when the twins were babies, and routine errands loomed like purgatory. I remember leaving the girls asleep in the car, parked twenty feet from the ATM, knowing that if the machine did not act quickly enough they would be howling before I could start the engine and lull them back to sleep. My heart was racing and I felt outraged at the world for waking my babies. I remember that sometimes now, as I take my time to do banking. I can even go inside, without feeling rushed. If the twins are with me, it is fun. If they are at school, it is fine. My contentment now is greater because of the distress ten years ago.

John and I have had sepia times in our marriage. There was the stress of trying to herd small children into bed for many years. We snarled about who was doing their share of brushing and diapers. I can recall those pieces of our life, and how they are a background for the delightful dinner we shared last night with friends. Our older son cheerfully babysat the younger ones, and we left without a shadow of angst.

I have no desire to rip the somber memories out, any more than I would make a quilt with nothing but a single shade of robin's egg blue. It is in the process of stitching together those varied feelings and colors that marriage keeps us warm.

quilt

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