I loved Jack, but I didn’t love everything about him or everything about our marriage. There were disappointments along the way, places where I felt misunderstood, trapped, lonely, frustrated.
There was what I thought marriage would be as we took our vows, and then there was what it actually turned out to be as our lifetime unfolded. In striving to be honest, it is important for me to acknowledge this.
These days I’m doing a fair amount of looking back and thinking. There were, no surprise, the days that were more uphill than down, the weary, painful times. Sara Groves describes:
We just had a World War III here in our kitchen.
Sara Groves, “Roll to the Middle”, The Other Side of Something, 2004.
We both thought the meanest things,
and then we both said them.
Jack and I did not do much shouting or arguing, but as anyone knows, there are lots of other ways to hurt someone if you want to. Especially someone you know well. I could hold my own in that department every bit as much as he could, though I’m not proud to admit it.
But looking back also brings to mind the days that life was more like play than work. It comforts me to recall our friendly camaraderie, faithful routines, inside jokes, acceptance, trust.
To quote Sara again:
If we go looking for offense, we’re going to find it.
Sara Groves, “Loving a Person”, Add to the Beauty, 2005.
If we go looking for real love, we’re going to find it.
Now as then, I have the same choices to make. What will I decide to dwell on? The times Jack let me down, or the times he was my number one fan and support?
Though I don’t want to deny the presence of the former, I don’t want to camp there, either. To do so would give power to past hurts to keep on hurting, and isn’t life short enough as is?
Rather, I need to look at the good. What really was good? And what was really good? That’s what I want to shape my present, which will in turn shape my future.
I choose to think about
Philippians 4:8,9
whatever is true,
noble,
right,
pure,
lovely,
admirable,
excellent
or praiseworthy.
I’ll take it one step further and say that, though I no longer can tell Jack what I found praiseworthy and excellent in him, I can tell you—and you—and you—what I appreciate in you. I can extend to you the good-will and grace and forgiveness God extended to me, or I can let the imperfections of life color our relationship and fade the brilliant possibilities of this new day to drab. The choice is mine.
I choose the flowers on the table, not the crack in the ceiling. And I choose to tell you so.
