We’ve Come A Long Way

I remember waking up in the dead of night to the shrill beeping of the smoke alarm. I sat up, looked to my right, and realized Zach wasn’t there. I started to panic until I heard him calling from down the hall, “It’s okay! It’s all under control!” Curious, I threw back the covers and made my way to the kitchen at the far end of our apartment. Our little galley kitchen was filled with the smell of burnt tortillas. There was my new husband, shirtless, whipping a dish towel over his head and below the smoke alarm, attempting to clear the smoke from the sensor. The scene was as comical as it sounds. Zach looked at me and said sheepishly, “I was hungry. I thought I’d just make a quesadilla.” I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Have you learned nothing?” I teased. (Not so many months earlier, when we were still dating, Zach had attempted to make us dinner at my apartment. I’d come out of the bathroom to find my entire stovetop on fire and Zach dumping the unidentifiable remains of our meal into the garbage. He assured me then too, that everything was under control. I don’t think he realized I saw how big the flames were. He crumpled onto the floor of my kitchen, embarrassed, while I ordered us a pizza.) Since the quesadilla incident of 2007, Zach’s kitchen privileges have been all but revoked. He oversees breakfast for the kids, but otherwise, I have taken over all cooking duties for our household. This is why our home is still standing. I haven’t minded taking on the role of the full-time chef because it turns out Zach is a fantastic dishwasher. We each have our strengths.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about our newlywed days, shaking my head in memory of all the things I didn’t know. I think back to our two-bedroom apartment filled with furnishings of our parents’ cast-offs, Ikea’s finest, a fridge full of his and hers soda (Pepsi for him, Diet Coke for me, because those were the kind of hills we were willing to die on back then and a compromise was a thing of the future) and it feels like a whole other life. Those first few years have a big learning curve, don’t they? There are some lessons you just have to learn the hard way, but if I had the opportunity to go back fifteen years and give my starry-eyed, 24-year-old self some advice, here’s what I’d say…

First of all, don’t let Zach think you’re perfect. For him to love all of you, he needs to know all of you. Let him into the areas you’re ashamed of and ask him to help you. Don’t let him be blindsided by your flaws, your sin, and your weaknesses. Stay humble and remember his love for you runs deeper than any sin, so just be honest. Bring everything into the light; keep nothing in the shadows. Some big landmines could have been avoided if you’d only done this from the beginning. You’ve given him far too many reasons to mistrust you. Your husband’s forgiveness and mercy are the sole reasons your marriage is still intact fifteen years later.

Second, don’t be in such a rush to leave this season and move on to the next one. The house, the dog, the kids, they’ll all come in time. This little apartment and tiny budget are still big enough to hold everything you need right now. Right now your life is so wonderfully simple. Don’t wish it away. In the years to come, you will have more money, new cars, finer furnishings, and big houses with beautiful yards, but none of those things are what makes you happier. Fifteen years later you are content, fulfilled, and at peace, but spoiler alert: it has nothing to do with how much stuff you have. You’ll spend a lot of time paring down all the stuff you’ve surrounded yourself with and longing for a simpler life. Don’t get caught up in the latest and greatest, in keeping up with the Joneses, in impressing your friends. None of it lasts, and you’ll waste so much energy and money chasing after it all. Be present in where God has you, right now.

Third, love Zach in the way he needs to be loved, not in the way that comes easiest for you. He is wired completely differently than you. Over time your taste in movies, music, and food will align, but your love languages won’t. (Except for rap. You’ll never get on board with his 90s gangsta rap obsession. But he’ll learn to eat fish without gagging and you’ll develop a love for Mexican food without needing antacids. You’ll both trade soda for sparkling water, negating the need for separate fridge shelving too, so miracles do happen.) Ask him probing questions. Follow up on conversations. Listen and empathize; don’t try to fix the problem. Hold his hand often; initiate touch. Check-in with him during the day; he needs to know you’re thinking of him. Greet him at the door. Affirm him in public and in private. None of these things come naturally to you, so you need to be intentional. Routinely do these things so that you don’t get too far into your marriage only to realize his needs aren’t being met.

Fourth, trust your husband’s leadership over your marriage and your home. Stop trying to gain control, to steer the ship that isn’t yours to steer. Zach is faithful, honorable, and above reproach, and he pursues God daily. You are not better suited than him. You are strong, independent, and perhaps far more articulate, but you’re prideful. His approach is more subtle and softer; it doesn’t make it wrong. Step aside and let him lead. He wants to lead, but he can’t do it if you won’t get out of the way. Practice submission every day. Start with little things, like where you’ll go for dinner or what movie to watch. Zach will grow in confidence and step up in the big things if you give him opportunities in the small things. Things are coming in your future that will be hard for you to accept because you haven’t made a habit out of humility. Your unwillingness to die to yourself, to put yourself in his shoes, will bring your marriage to a dangerous precipice. The most important thing you can do for your marriage is to put him first and trust him to do the same for you.

Finally, pursue God as passionately as you pursue your husband. I promise you the hardest seasons of your marriage will be the same seasons in which you’ve lapsed in your time with the Lord. God first, marriage second, always. Remember your First Love. Time at His feet will fill you up in ways Zach never can. You can’t place your expectations to be loved, seen, and valued solely on Zach. He will fall short. Seek God for those things and your cup will never be empty.

While I desperately wish I had learned these things early on in marriage, I’m grateful to know them now. In another fifteen years, I’m certain I will have new wisdom to share with my now 38-year-old self and I can’t wait to know what that will be. It’s worth noting that Zach hasn’t burned a quesadilla in years. I’d say he’s perfected the craft. He’s come a long way. So have I.