I had a day the other week where I just needed a reminder that hard ends and that healthful fighting leaves us stronger and more unified. I was having a moment; I needed a break; I was desperately craving proof that we can do this marriage thing. That I can do this marriage thing well.
I started looking at photos from our honeymoon, pulling out memories of how married life began for TR and me. As I read my journal, I was struck by how important beginnings are, and yet...
...beginnings do not always have to define the whole story.
Before our wedding, we’d decided on a no-phone policy for our honeymoon. No social media. No texting. No phone calls. No contact with the world. We desired to disappear, hiding from it all, and radio silence gave us that space. After letting our families know we’d arrived safely at our destination, we fully retreated.
Our first day on a small island off the coast of South Carolina was gloomy. The sky was mad, and the ocean raged. It seemed fitting. Our journey to the alter and island had been everything but smooth sailing.
We spent our day searching for parking spots, walking hand in hand, popping in and out of shops and unearthing eccentric trinkets. We tried to get coffee and ended up with smoothies, discovered golf carts are better than cars, and found that the mundane can be delightful.
We were together – same time zone, same state, same city and house, breathing in the same air – and there was nothing and no one to interfere.
At the South Carolina Aquarium, we got lost in the water and the colorful fish and the coral. The swirling tanks and jellyfish held us captive, and the meandering paths through the tanks offered endless possibilities. It was blissful, limitless, and glorious. It reflected our expectation of marriage.
We watched dolphins in the harbor, dreaming about the lifetime we had ahead of us. We talked over one another, backtracking and laughing as the sea mist settled over our heads. We talked about the harsh realities we’d face due to chronic illness as the sea breeze dried our tears.
For a moment, time stood still, and the world passed by without notice. Reality was distant, and it was just us…figuring out what being us could look like.
But like the shifting sands on a beach, it was a fleeting moment.
Barely a few days into marriage, and I was already miserable. Homesick and lonely, I didn’t know how to allow TR into my most sacred heart places, and he didn’t know how to lovingly encourage vulnerability. I was hurting, physically and emotionally, and deep down, I wished this marriage had come with a free trial period.
I was overwhelmed, drowning in an angry, brutal storm of emotion. The swells grew larger, and I could no longer cope on my own. My husband was offering me a life preserver, and I needed to grab hold.
Enter our digital retreat. It protected our fledgling marriage, ensuring our support system would undergo the restructuring necessary for a healthy marriage.
Still, though, I chose to remain in the storm alone.
I sent TR to the nearest Walmart, 40 minutes one-way, multiple times just to get rid of him and find some space to myself. I chose food and Netflix over connecting with my husband, ignoring him even when we were in the same room.
It had been a couple days, and I could see it on TR’s face – he was restless. He was anxiously waiting for me to be ready, and it was time to choose him. Sometimes, we have to jump when we aren’t yet ready.
I put on clothes and dragged myself into the golf cart. It was probably the first time I sacrificed for TR in our marriage, and I learned that sacrifice is the hundred million little things we don’t even recognize as surrender.
We wound up on the point of the island, hiking the dunes at sunset and walking along the beach. The lighthouse served as an anchor point as we looked for shark teeth, collecting shells, and slogging through the sand.
And it occurred to me – this is the accurate picture of marriage.
Uncertain footing, physically and emotionally draining treks, unexpected twists and tricky misunderstandings. Trusting my spouse to lift me over splintered logs and leading me to the hardpacked sand for easier walking.
The waves that night were glorious, the colors and clouds of the sunset painted by the Master Artist Himself. Together, we found a moment of rest, and as the wind blew through our hair, we held hands and walked, connecting and communicating with no need for words.
The beach restored us a little bit. As the waves lapped our feet, we accepted the invitation to slow down and be still. As the cool water bathed our calves, we found ourselves refreshed. The swirling tide drew our hearts close in the love and trust we’d committed to.
The ever-changing granules of the sandbar, the steadiness of the man next to me, and the hand of my Father stretched out before me reminded me to see, to feel, to connect, to be.
This was the remembrance my soul needed presently.
As I flipped the page in my journal, a photo slipped out.
We’d been so impacted by our spontaneous beach walk, we spent our final day at the beach. Glorious hours soaking in the sun, flying through the waves, and splashing one another with unapologetic child-likeness. We waded farther and farther into the ocean, discovering at times we were holding hands with a stranger and at other moments, falling more deeply in love then we knew possible.
The magnitude of gratefulness felt was unmatched. In our tiny, insignificant, utterly irrelevant creatureliness, God saw fit to bring us together and unite us under His covenant.
The enormity of our love story washed over me, and on a day where the impossible, the difficult, and the hurtful was all I could see and feel, being reminded that drag marks in the sand wash away, towering surf gives way to playful spray, and the raging white caps do eventually meet the shore in peaceful and inexplicable harmony reignited hope for a healthy marriage.
Not to say that hard things end and hurt disappears! Like the ocean, our circumstances linger accompanied by constant flux, and like the beach, we constantly rearrange in response. Looking picture-perfect and vacation-ready every day isn’t reality – true beauty is found in recovering from the brutal sea.
Marriage is a beautiful beach, and I think life is, too. Deceptively simple, very stunning, and always challenging, even on the best day.
As you trudge through the unrelenting sands of relational, financial, and personal calamity, remember that beauty always surfaces. Waves still; the sun rises; the sands become firm(er); and your heart will find peace and rest.
A hard season does not have to be the defining one…even a hurricane-ravaged city and country eventually recover.
May you find delight in the waves. May you experience gratitude in the unsteadiness. May the hope displayed through a beach sustain you.
And may you discover beauty persists, even in the worst of circumstances.
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