Category Archives: marriage

marriage, personal growth

Adventure in El Salvador

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My wife and I recently made a quantum leap from our comfort zone in small-town Ohio to south-central El Salvador. In February, we ventured with a group of gringos to a small island called La Calzada for a week.

We were equipped with a sense of adventure, our life stories and the belief that the restoration we’d experienced in our own lives might spark growth or hope in the lives of others.

If, like me, you have never ventured to Central America before, your mental picture of El Salvador may be fuzzy. I had previously traveled deep into Mexico so I had images of rocky farm land. I envisioned dirty cities tightly packed with humble abodes. I anticipated there would be vendors aggressively peddling their wares.

I saw all of that en route to our final destination. But over the course of our week on the island, I saw so much more.

A 30-minute van ride from the airport delivered us to a bustling port town where we schlepped our luggage into a flat-bottom boat. After another half hour of cruising through densely-packed mangroves, we arrived at our destination.

The air hung thick with smoke from burning trash. The wheels of our luggage bogged down in the layer of fine dirt that comprised the road on which we walked. A short hike landed us in the homestead where we would reside for the next week.

Scoping out our new digs, my first thought was something like, “Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore.” My wife and I did get our own room, for which we were grateful, but the outhouse outside our room made me anxious.

As I was settling into the room and processing the new environment, a bat proceeded to join me, darting through my personal space like bats tend to do. I stifled my girlish screams and ran from the room like a scene from Ace Ventura. And I thought, “What are were doing here?!?”

What are we doing here?!?

What we did there was meet a lot of people. We heard a lot of stories. We shared our own. We laughed with the locals. We prayed with them. We gave a shoulder to cry on. We distributed food, clothes and reading glasses. We didn’t do anything extraordinary.

This week, though, was definitely beyond my ordinary. For one, I had no cell phone reception. The high-tech distraction that regularly beckons me to piddle my time away only served as a camera.

In the absence of email, TV, video games, social media or any media, there was more time to talk to my wife and to take in the beauty of creation. I absolutely loved it!

This journey helped me to recognize the things I often take for granted like indoor plumbing, air-conditioning and paved roads. Perhaps the greatest resource that I take for granted is time. I always assume I’ll get more of it, that tomorrow will bring another opportunity to do things I didn’t get to today.

It’s okay of I work a little too long or if I fritter my evening away shopping for cars, even though I’m not in the market for a car. There will be another time to spend with the kids, to get healthy or to take my wife on a date. I have deceived myself into this thinking.

Today, as I sit in the shadow of this adventure, I strive to recapture and rekindle that feeling of gratitude for the conveniences we have in our country and for my largely bat-free life. But mostly I want to remember that my time is far too precious to waste.

Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. I should be investing more of my time in the people I love and in the causes that matter to me.

Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

-Psalm 90:12
marriage, marriage & parenting, personal growth

Dandelion Whine

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I deal with quite a bit of lawn shame. Looking out over my vast .26 acre lot, I often find myself thinking, ‘Meh.’ My yard is especially inglorious this time of year when it needs cut every three days and the weeds are plentiful.

One of my biggest issues is that although my yard needs cut every three days, I am more like an every six to seven day kind of guy. I know my grass is too long when I can see the wind rippling through my lawn like it’s the Serengeti.

I could have sworn I heard Hakuna Matata echoing across the plains the last time I mowed. A “problem-free philosophy” my eye. Whoever wrote that song clearly didn’t have chickweed covering half of their front yard.

I’m not sure why my inability to grow a great lawn bothers me so much. I guess my inner-farmer is offended. I think back to the pioneer days when agriculture was essential. If you couldn’t grow food, you couldn’t eat.

Then, I imagine my 10 pioneer-days children who all look like Tiny Tim (from A Christmas Carol, not the eccentric ukulele player) staring at me with their sunken eyes wondering why their papa can’t get the crops to grow.

I don’t know, Tiny Tim kids! Stop with all the pressure!

I realize that one of the biggest barriers standing between me and a beautiful lawn is time. I don’t invest a lot of it into my lawn.

I assume I could have great landscaping and make my imaginary Tiny Tim family proud if I were to work in my yard every night. But my time is more wisely invested.

I’ve started to notice that some of the best men I know share a similar affliction. Their yards aren’t great either. These men are coaches, dads, granddads, leaders, servants and big-idea guys who are pouring into their families, into youth, into marriages. Lawn care is an afterthought.

They are eradicating emotional weeds and helping prune and nurture spiritual gifts that are just beginning to bud. While I wouldn’t put myself on the same level as some of these men, I see that I often let my yard go for one more day because that day is being invested in something more meaningful.

I am learning to be okay with that.

Someday my body will reside six feet beneath a well-manicured lawn, and whether that’s tomorrow or 50 years from now, I want to leave behind a positive impact.

I want to know that I did something with my time and gifts that helped others in some way. Lawn care (unless I’m caring for someone else’s lawn) simply doesn’t do that.

Now, I have some civic duty and pride that compels me to keep my yard respectable, but it will never look like a golf course. My lawn’s mediocrity is freeing up my capacity to be great in other areas.

I am good with that.

 

marriage, personal growth, self health

In Our Darkest Valleys We Need Hope

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Oasis isn’t just a terrible band from the 90’s with a front man who had more attitude than ability. (Full disclosure – I still like their song “Wonder Wall.”)

An oasis is something that is off in the distance that offers hope. It is a watering hole in the desert. It is dreaming of a beach vacation in the dead of winter. It is a meal at the end of a fast.

An oasis is the promise of something greater than what we are currently enduring. We all need a carrot of hope dangling in front of us to get us through tough times.

Sometimes the valleys through which we travel may not be that tough. We may simply find ourselves stuck in an emotional, spiritual or relational rut. The days run together, and gray skies seem to linger incessantly.

Other times we find ourselves treading some very rough roads. We must deal with loss, disappointment, unfulfilled dreams, betrayal, illness or other forms of brokenness that make it difficult to even find the motivation to get out of bed.

Whether we’re just feeling the winter blues or we’re living through hell, we all need hope. I know because the last decade of my life has seen both of these seasons.

I’ve had times when it was difficult to distinguish one day from the next, when finding motivation was challenging. And I’ve trudged through some painful, dark valleys brought on by the loss of my sister and the near loss of my marriage, when I found it difficult to even put one foot in front of the other.

What got me through both seasons was hope. It was the recognition that life is a series of peaks and valleys, and no matter how deep the valley, it can’t last forever.

I wasn’t always a believer in the Bible, but a particularly long dark stretch brought me to the Word seeking hope. What I found within its pages were story after story about people who endured hardship and thrived in the face of it.

There were no promises of easy lives. But there were many promises that we will be shepherded through difficulty, that hardship can change us for the better and that we have access to strength beyond what we think possible.

Even after emerging from the darkest period of my life, I still find myself in seasons where I struggle to find joy. If you’ve lived through winter in Ohio, you probably know what I’m talking about.

To get through these seasons, I have to find little oases in my life. I look for glimmers of hope. I remind myself that spring always comes after winter.

One of the ways I do that in my marriage is by scheduling what my wife and I call an ‘annual abandon.’ We go on overnight trips without our kids. It’s a break from the routine and gives us something to look forward to.

We also enjoy date nights with some regularity. We try to make these dates happen monthly, but it can be difficult with two young kids and limited baby-sitting options.

I also look for small daily oases. They come in the form of prayer/meditation in the morning, family time in the evening, home-cooked meals, walking my dog, holding hands with my wife while watching TV or movie nights with the kids.

They aren’t extravagant events, but these simple moments bring joy and make the stress and drudgery of work all worth it.

If you are simply stuck or drowning in darkness, I encourage you to find your own glimmers of hope. Even if an annual abandon is outside of your scope at the moment, look for an oasis each day.

There is so much joy and wonder in the world if you look at it right. Figure out what brings you joy. Focus on it, and move towards it.

 

marriage, personal growth

Relationships Are Like Cars

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A few years back, my car’s battery died at the most inopportune time. It was at night, in February, and winter winds lashed my face with wet snow as I jump-started the car back to life. The worst part was that I knew my battery was going to die.

A couple of weeks earlier, I’d found myself in a similar situation, in a parking lot, listening to the deafening silence of my car failing to start. Only on that occasion, I jiggled the battery cables, and by some miracle, the car started up. But a little red light flickered to life in my dashboard imploring me to take corrective action.

‘Check engine,’ my car begged.

‘Nah,’ said I.

After all, checking an engine requires time and money. I decided to push my luck, which ran out two weeks later.

I work in the auto industry, in service parts purchasing, and without fail, we see increased demand for batteries in the winter. The additional strain put on batteries in cold means that many of us will find ourselves stranded in parking lots, wishing we’d been more proactive.

Seventeen years of marriage have taught me that relationships are kind of like cars. Both require a lot of maintenance.

Those of us who are smart will invest our resources in preventive maintenance. The rest of us will find ourselves stranded wishing we’d have done something about the warning lights.

When my own marriage was pushed to the brink of divorce, I could look back over the years and see all kinds of indicators that were illuminated that should have prompted me to action, which I promptly ignored.

There have been several studies done on ‘Marital Satisfaction Over Time,’ and when shown on a graph, it looks like a U-shaped curve. Happiness in marriage begins dropping almost immediately after the honeymoon.

Before your car even loses its new-car smell, your will start to lose some of your luster in your spouse’s eyes. It’s predictable, just like knowing that you’ll have to replace a car battery every 3-5 years.

Sadly, when spouses start to feel their satisfaction slipping, many want to trade in for a newer model. The problem with new models is that they eventually become old models. And if our satisfaction and joy are solely based on other people, we will continually be let down.

That inevitable decline in marital bliss doesn’t mean we should resign ourselves to accept mediocre marriages though. There are so many ways we can fight against the tide of divorce. Primary among them is attending events or classes that equip us for lifelong love.

I need regular reminders of what it means to be a great spouse. We all do.

There is a powerful event coming up on February 9th and 10th at Ginghamsburg Church called Refine Us. Justin and Trisha Davis will share their story as a springboard to help couples choose the path to healthier marriages.

I’ve learned the hard way just how much I need this kind of advice. I will be there front and center, taking notes. I hope to see you there too.

marriage

The Best Marriage Advice I Have Heard Lately

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The best marriage advice that I have received recently was this – emptiness.

I know; bear with me. I too sat skeptically back with arms folded when the speakers at the marriage simulcast flashed this word on the screen.

I was imagining an existential state of emptiness where nothing matters. But in this state of emptiness, things matter. People matter.

The speakers (Les & Leslie Parrott) are a married couple who explained that the way to move our marriages towards deeper intimacy is to empty ourselves of the need to change our spouse.

Achieving this emptiness is not easy, because most of us possess some innate drive to bend others’ wills towards our own. I want things done a certain way – my way.

If you don’t drive like me, you are an idiot.

If you don’t vote like me, you clearly don’t understand how the world works.

If you root for that team up north, something is fundamentally flawed in your DNA.

While none of these things are true it is easy, in my pridefulness, to believe them. I do the same thing in my marriage.

I just know there is a ‘best way’ to do most things around our house. In fact, I wrongly assume that I know the best way to do most things, period. When I cling too tightly to my certainty and to my rightness, it leaves a lot of room for those around me to be wrong, especially those who live in my house.

I think the speakers were onto something with this idea of emptiness. In Buddhism, emptiness is a state for which one strives. They teach of emptying self of preconceived ideas to see the true nature of things and events.

Jesus also requires an emptiness of sorts. He called himself ‘living water,’ and in that time, water was transported in clay vessels. Man is referred to throughout the Bible as a vessel. If we are vessels, and He is living water, we must empty ourselves before we can invite Jesus in.

I don’t know about you, but I am most often filled to the brim with my own junk. I have poured myself full of pride, selfishness, busyness, stress, anxiety, anger and gallons of meaningless filler. I am so full of all those things that it sometimes spills onto those around me.

I pour out my pride on my wife and my anger on my kids. My life is saturated with self-induced stress.

The times in my life when I have experienced the most peace are when I dump these dregs down the drain. When I empty some of myself, I create room for grace, patience and understanding

My effort empty myself starts at 5:30 each morning. After brief physical exercise to wake myself up, I have a time of meditation and prayer. To be honest, even quieting myself for 5-10 minutes isn’t easy for me.

But I repeatedly pray a simple prayer – ‘Less of me. More of You.’

The days when I actually live into this mantra tend to be better days than those when I go around slopping myself on the world around me. Some days I just have to get out of the way.

Emptiness begets fullness.

marriage

Skate or Die

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I am 41, and I still dress like I am 14. My closet is full of skateboarding t-shirts, and most often you’ll find Vans on my feet.

I actually do own some nice clothes and spend 40 hours a week looking like I live in a Dockers commercial. But I always return to what is comfortable for me.

I haven’t even stood on a skateboard for at least a few years. And the last time I checked, my skateboarding abilities had greatly diminished over the last 25 years. There was a time, though, when I was skilled.

I first started skating around 11 years old, and over the five years that followed, I invested countless hours honing my abilities. By the time I was 16, I was proficient with a skateboard.

Over the next couple of years, this hobby would fizzle from my life. But skateboarding, as part of my identity, stuck. In the 25 years since then, I have had many other hobbies and interests, but my first love for seven-ply decks and polyurethane wheels still lingers.

A few formative years in my youth forged a portion of my identity that has transcended nearly three decades. The formation of a life-long label happens to many of us.

For some, we learned we were good at something as an adolescent, and we obsessively honed that area of our lives. And though we no longer play football, gig in a band or dance competitively, those are still key pieces of our identity.

Others had negative labels applied to our lives early on that still haunt us. Even though I was good at skateboarding, I was mostly terrible at traditional sports. Standing 6-foot-3, many folks assume I possess some basketball abilities. They assume wrong.

My ineptitude at sports still affects me to this day. When someone asks if I want to play basketball, I flash back to seventh grade and feel like that lanky awkward kid who was bound to embarrass himself.

I know I am not alone. We all have tags that have been placed on us. Whether we were clumsy, weird or we just made some poor decisions along the way, we have all likely had negative labels applied to our lives.

Even worse, we have probably applied some of those labels to ourselves. We tag ourselves as not good enough, not smart enough or not attractive enough – when in fact we are enough.

We do the same in our relationships. When our marriage hits rocky patches or we don’t measure up to the social media feeds of our friends, we tag our relationship as damaged.

When our dreams of a fairy tale marriage dissolve into the reality of broken vows and violated trust, we label our relationship as irreconcilable.

When we identify our spouses as lazy, uncaring or self-centered, the more we view them through that lens. Then it becomes easier to see all of their habits that support this view and harder to see the positive traits they possess.

My suggestion (learned the hard way) – lose the labels. Don’t tag your relationship with a label that will become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

If you view your relationship as beyond repair, it won’t be repaired. If you see your spouse as unworthy, you won’t recognize their worth. If you see yourself as not enough, you’ll never be enough.

 

marriage

Marriage Is A Beautiful Mistake

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I love JRR Tolkien. I know that is a bold declaration.

Making an obvious statement like that is like declaring that ‘I hate genocide’ or ‘I am pro-vacation.’ It is a forgone conclusion. I mean, who doesn’t love Tolkien’s adventure stories?

Beyond Tolkien’s brilliant prose that’s led many a reader on epic journeys of the mind, he was also a prolific proponent of marriage. Married for over 55 years to his teenage sweetheart, Tolkien held a very healthy, pragmatic view of marriage, which he passed on to future generations.

In a letter to his son Michael, Tolkien mused:

“Nearly all marriages, even happy ones, are mistakes: in the sense that almost certainly (in a more perfect world, or even with a little more care in this very imperfect one) both partners might have found more suitable mates. But the ‘real soul-mate’ is the one you are actually married to.”

As brilliant as Tolkien was, I don’t think Hallmark was beating down his door to write Happy Anniversary cards. The thought that most of us could have married mates that better suit us, but we’re stuck with what we have doesn’t exactly warm the heart.

The notion of a soul-mate, of a single person who is destined to come riding across a rainbow on a unicorn to complete us, is rubbish. But I love how Tolkien concludes the thought – your soul-mate is the one you’re married to.

My wife and I could not be more different. I am fairly certain that Match.com would never have paired us up. We are a classic odd couple who are polar opposites in many areas of our lives.

While this has created conflict over the years, it is also a strength. We nudge (sometimes more than a nudge) each other out of our comfort zones. Many couples, though, let their differences break them instead of strengthen them.

Tolkien went on to say, “When the glamour wears off, or merely works a bit thin, they think they have made a mistake, and that the real soul-mate is still to find.”

This notion that there is somebody better out there who will really get us and who will better meet our needs is what drives many to divorce. When our spouse becomes deficient at recognizing our needs, or worse – we think they are intentionally neglecting needs, the appeal of others can grow in our minds.

The idea that we deserve more is a seed the enemy plants in our mind. And far too often, we water that seed and nurture it after an argument, when our spouse fails to pick up their socks again or has stayed too late at work once more. We give life to this noxious weed until it chokes out our marriage and blossoms into infidelity, divorce or lifelong disappointment.

The seed we should nurture is the idea Tolkien shared – we are married to our soul-mate. We should focus on what is awesome about them.

What drew us to them in the first place? What are their most compelling traits? What do they do that makes us smile? What do they do that makes us proud? How have their differences challenged us to grow?

When you find the answers to these questions, dwell on them. Share them with your spouse. And when your spouse disappoints, return to these thoughts.

marriage

The Day I Wanted To Rip A Man’s Arm Off

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One of the most difficult things that I’ve ever witnessed, and felt powerless to do anything about, was seeing another man flirt with my wife.

I have seen it numerous times – another man showboating for my wife, laughing a little too hard at her jokes, overly excited to see her, intrigued by everything she has to say, lightly touching her arm or shoulder, stupidly grinning from ear to ear, unaware of (or at least unconcerned about) my presence.

There is a switch that flips in me in those moments where my nice guy façade is replaced by a man who believes he could literally rip another man’s arm from its socket. Now, I have never ripped another man’s arm off, but in those moments, I’d sure like to give it the old college try.

Over the past weekend, I attended a men’s conference where the speaker shared that he’d had similar experiences, minus the severing of limbs. He shared that from across the room he saw another man clearly flirting with his wife, and that anger began to well up. Then a small voice inside cut through the anger and said, “You should be flirting more with your wife.” Ouch!

That line struck me hard. I don’t remember everything that was said at the two-day conference, but those words are still ringing in my ears a week later. Thinking about how little I flirt with my wife made me want to rip my own arm off and smack myself with it.

So in the name of reducing severed arm injuries, I’m going to pass along advice that was passed on to me at that event. Here are 10 ways we can flirt with our wives:

  1. Spend time with her alone
  2. Listen to her deeply – without distraction (phone, TV, computer)
  3. Touch her – not as a means to an end, but simply holding hands or putting your arm around her
  4. Accept her unconditionally
  5. Be committed to her – especially with your eyes
  6. Encourage her with your words
  7. Take care of her financially
  8. Laugh with her
  9. After God, make her your top priority
  10. Be her best friend

In 15 years of marriage, if I’ve learned one thing about women, it’s that they want to feel accepted, loved and wanted just as they are.

Even though I know that to be true, I sometimes find it hard to translate that knowledge into action, but these 10 actions are pretty sound ways to make that happen.

I can’t control other men hitting on my wife. She’s beautiful and outgoing, and that draws men to her.

But what I can control is how I act towards my wife. I can build her up. I can show her how important she is to me and remind her how beautiful I find her. I can make another man’s flirting less of a threat simply by doing a little flirting of my own.