Category Archives: Marriage

Burden-Bearer

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After a woman learns she’s expecting her first baby, like it or not she’s joined the Burden-Bearing Club. She doesn’t feel the weight of it at first, but as the weeks pass, understanding dawns. Then after 9 months, she’s eager to go through the misery of labor and delivery, because it means she can unload her burden.

But burden-bearing doesn’t end there. All parents quickly become acquainted with the lifting, hauling, and holding that their new role brings. Even a 7 pound newborn becomes a back-breaker after enough carrying duty.

Looking back on the heavy lifting of parenthood, my prominent thought is of Nate. His M.O. was always to lighten my load, and his constant question was, “Can I carry that for you?” Even if he already had his arms full and I had only one thing, he’d offer to take it from me.

I remember trudging through Disney World years ago with our own children and another family, watching Nate walk ahead of me next to the other dad. The two men were laughing, having a good time, and Nate resembled a pack horse for all the bags and bundles hanging from his shoulders. But because his motivation was always to help me, he carried his load lightly.

Scripture describes a similar picture when God says, “Can I carry that for you?” He’s referring to our sins, knowing how burdened we feel when we know we’re in the wrong and haven’t done anything about it.

The biblical David described this exact dilemma: “My guilt overwhelms me—it is a burden too heavy to bear. I am on the verge of collapse… But I confess my sins; I am deeply sorry for what I have done.” (Psalm 38:3-4,17-18) If we follow David’s example, we’ll find the same relief he did: “May all who search for you [Lord] be filled with joy and gladness in you. May those who love your salvation repeatedly shout, ‘The Lord is great!’ You are my helper and my savior.” (Psalm 40:16-17)

Although Nate’s shouldering of my burdens had to end when he passed away, God’s carrying never stops. He established it permanently when Jesus took responsibility for all sin, for all time, everywhere. And it’ll continue forevermore for anyone who takes advantage of the reprieve he offers.

I probably shouldn’t have taken such regular advantage of Nate’s offer to carry my burdens, but his “can I carry” continued, even when he didn’t feel good. This picture, taken about 6 months before he died, tells the tale. We knew nothing of his deadly cancer then, although it had probably already taken hold, but his back was torturing him. Even then he asked if he could carry my weighty red purse on a sight-seeing trip in England.

 

Although every good man offers to carry his wife’s burdens, only the finest will shoulder her purse.

“Give your burdens to the Lord, and he will take care of you.” (Psalm 55:22)

Fragile Love

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This afternoon when Jack, Louisa and I were at the beach on what felt like a mid-summer day, we came across a deeply-cut, stick-scrawled message in the sand: “Will you marry me?”

No one else was around. “What do you think?” I said. “Authentic?”

“Well,” she said, “it would be the perfect idea for a couple that loves the beach.”

Then she noticed a second etching. “Look at that big heart!”

Sure enough, there was not one but several hearts, each one a few paces from the other in a long line, much like stepping stones. “I’ll bet he brought her to the beach and led her along the hearts till she came to his question at the end.” Louisa said. “How romantic!”

We walked both directions looking for a big “YES!” but considered it might have been washed away by the waves.

In the 1050’s, Pat Boone sang a song called, “Love Letters in the Sand.” It started happily:

On a day like today
We passed the time away
Writing love letters in the sand.

But by the end of the song it had turned into a tale of woe:

Now my broken heart aches
With every wave that breaks
Over love letters in the sand.

Human love can be fleeting, nearly as fragile as words scratched in sand with a stick. Our feelings for someone can disappear as quickly as the tide can erase sandy letters.

*      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *     *

As we continue through the season of Lent toward the cross, I’m glad Jesus didn’t approach his mission based on his feelings at the time. If he had, he wouldn’t have died for us, because he sure didn’t feel like it. Instead he summoned up an unshakeable will to do it God’s way rather than his own. And it was for one reason: he loved us.

If only we could love like that! We don’t, because it requires setting aside our feelings to favor someone else. Instead we say, “We aren’t like Jesus! We can’t possibly love like him.” Would he agree with that?

He’d probably say, “You think you can’t love like I do? How about if I do it for you, from within you? Could you do it then?”

And of course the only correct answer is, “Yes.”

Maybe that’s where we slip up. We forget to ask him to love through us, and try to do it by ourselves. The Bible says, “No one knows the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God.” (1 Corinthians 2:11) Similarly, no one can love like Jesus unless the Spirit of God loves through him. By ourselves, we can’t do it.

Today at the beach as we came to the end of our search for more messages, we saw blurred letters in the sand that had been partially washed away by water: “[blank] and Jenna.”

I hope Jenna and her fiance’ will do better than Pat Boone did.

“The Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us… love.” (2 Timothy 1:7)

Sanctuary Time

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There are many troubled marriages these days, and America’s divorce rate of 50% tells that tale. But the same statistic also shows that 50% of marriages are pretty good.

Most people are over-worked physically and under-nourished emotionally. Marriages suffer in that environment, deprived of the quality time and attention needed to go the distance. Wives and husbands who are committed to making their love last have to work hard to find unpressured time together.

My marriage partner has been gone for 2 years, and for many months I’ve had trouble ending each day. I’ve stayed up past 3:00 or 4:00 AM repeatedly, reluctant to climb the stairs and go to bed. This seems extreme, and I’m not sure of the reason. The short answer is that I don’t like sleeping alone. But that isn’t completely true. Although having two in a bed brings security, comfort, and love, I think there’s something else bothering me.

Married couples who love each other have something special waiting for them at the end of each day. After going separate ways from dawn to dusk chasing different pursuits, they finally put their children to bed, set aside their worries, and meet behind closed doors. The bedroom becomes a type of sanctuary.

There they can talk and listen to each other, commiserate with the stresses of the day, laugh a little, maybe spend time reading side-by-side or share a bowl of popcorn on the bed. Late at night the phone doesn’t ring, the children don’t interrupt (usually), and revitalizing sleep is just around the corner. Both can take a deep breath followed by a long, feel-good sigh. The day is almost over.

And I think that’s my problem. My husband-wife sanctuary time is gone.

Nate’s last couple of years were dominated by back pain that demanded he lie down earlier and earlier, and I stayed up late to manage two high schoolers. But once we knew he had cancer, we immediately reestablished our sanctuary time. He still eased himself onto the bed early, but I climbed in then, too. Despite the house being full of people, Nate and I had those last precious moments of every day to ourselves before he would drift into sleep. And it was then we talked about the challenge at hand: terminal cancer.

But that wasn’t all. We also talked about our past lives, how we met, our marriage, the children, unnumbered blessings, unmet goals, God’s choices for us, and the “what-ifs” of the future, both his and mine. It was a painful time but was also laced with sweet declarations of love and some very potent promises.

I know my current struggle to climb the stairs and end each day will eventually mitigate. Meanwhile, as I put one foot in front of the other, I try to remind myself the Lord goes up the steps with me, offering his love and potent promises along with a willingness to be the other half of the last conversation of every day.

And when dawn arrives and I get to head down the steps again, he goes with me then, too.

“The Lord is trustworthy in all he promises and faithful in all he does.” (Psalm 145:13)