What True Love Looks Like

What True Love Looks Like

Okay, it’s Valentine’s Day, and I admit that I’m feeling a little gooey and squishy about those I love today. Like many people in middle age, I’ve seen all kinds of love and I think I finally have a handle on what makes love true instead of false.

Real love doesn’t manipulate, force, cajole, beg or bully. It is kind at its heart and forgiving when things go wrong (which is often). True love is rare in this world, because it is freely given and freely received, with no strings attached. Most love doesn’t work like this. It’s transactional in nature, but that’s an exchange, not a gift.

I’ve been married to Jason now for almost nineteen years. I’d happily do it all over again, even with every up and down we’ve faced. We are both completely different people now than when we met, but at our core, the love and generosity we have shown to one another has grown instead of faded.

When you add in two kids, our love life has a different shape and texture to it now, but it doesn’t feel diminished. We’ve added children and cats into our family’s recipe and our day-to-day experience is sweeter as a result. But that doesn’t mean it’s been easy. Nothing worthwhile and lasting is ever simple and straightforward. We fight for what we want most and that makes the reward of what we have built even better.

Here’s my short Valentine’s list of what true love looks like for me:

Kindness

First and foremost, kindness is key. Jason and I both work at treating each other with basic dignity, respect and courtesy. Some days this is hard, but it’s always worth it. One day a few years ago, I realized with a shock that I was often kinder to the barista at Starbucks or a stranger in a store than I was to the man I pledged to spend my life with. So I try to keep this quality front and centre in my home interactions.

Laughter

Life without laughing is not much fun. Happily, Jason and I like to make each other laugh and it’s a successful ingredient in our marriage. It’s not an exaggeration to say that we laugh, quite wildly, at least once a day and usually more. We aim to crack each other up as often as possible and this quality is like oil to grease the wheels of our relationship and keep it moving smoothly forward.

Generosity

For me, this means putting others’ needs ahead of my own from time to time. I don’t always do this, nor do I think it’s necessarily healthy to do this exclusively. As Anne Lamott says, “Now I take my turn and it’s a radical act.” But we live in a selfish world, so every single time I choose those I love over myself it’s a way to demonstrate my love through action, which means so much more than just words.

Commitment

One of the most precious aspects of a long-term marriage is that your commitment is demonstrated on a daily basis. It doesn’t matter how many years you are together if they are mostly drudgery, but if they are peaceful, comfortable and safe, it’s at least partly because you are both committed to each other. This means I choose Jason over every other man on earth and he chooses me over every other woman. Not once, but every single day we are alive.

Forgiveness

We’d never make it if we didn’t forgive each other. Jason and I have both committed to say, “I’m sorry” on a regular basis when we’ve behaved badly. We model this for our kids and it’s often challenging and wounding to our pride, but the vulnerability we demonstrate thaws the air between us and keeps our relationship warm and stable. We promised in our vows “to forgive and be forgiven” as both are equally difficult and we get a lot of practice in this area.

Space

Space to grow and be who we really are, without conforming to any mold or expected form, is one of the biggest gifts we give to each other. True love is always free. It doesn’t demand or hold grudges or resentments. It recognizes that room and air and light is required for growth and that healthy people continue to change and evolve as long as they are alive. Jason and I give this space willingly to each other and it’s one of my absolute favourite things about us as a couple.

Intentional Vulnerability

Intentional Vulnerability

I was twitchy all day Saturday because Jason and I had scheduled a date to “reconnect”. This meant intentional vulnerability, a state many of us love when it’s over and fear before it begins.

Sharing our soul openly with another person is an act of sheer courage. What we say can be misconstrued, rejected, lost in the other person’s point of view or belief system. Even when we sit down for an enchilada dinner with the person we love most in the world, practicing intentional vulnerability is a risky proposition.

I’m happy to say it went remarkably well. I shed a few tears, asked him to keep driving when we arrived at the restaurant because I was in full flow (and it’s easier to pour out my heart when I’m not making direct eye contact), said more than I had rehearsed but somehow it was better that way.

INTENTIONALvulnerabilityWe’ve had a turbulent summer. New job for Jason, appendix rupture for me, far more question marks than exclamation points when it comes to where we will live and how we will solve a host of complicated problems. At the end of the day, none of that matters as much as who we are in our relationship together.

Are we kind to one another or do we take our stress out on each other? Are we considerate of what the other person needs or are we lost in our own sense of entitlement? Do we compete for who has it the worst or do we support each other in the hardest moments?

The answer, of course, is somewhere in between these extremes. To be married is to be in a constant state of flux. When one of us is calm, the other is tense. When one is confident, the other is a mess. It’s a seesaw where we do our best to balance out each other.

Jason has proven, again and again, that he is trustworthy when I open my heart to him, but every time I still feel afraid. Vulnerability is a powerful force to unite people when it works, but when it fails it feels terribly isolating and scary.

By the end of our delicious Mexican meal, we both felt closer, happier, more united. We want this season of struggle to mean something. We prefer to allow it to change us, from the inside out, so we are different as a result. Neither of us want to return to normal life without acknowledging that a significant shift has occurred.

Every time intentional vulnerability works the way it’s meant to, I’m a convert all over again. I long to grow all of my relationships in this way, but vulnerability is a two-way street. Both people have to buy in to this soul-to-soul spark.

If you tend to hold back, find a safe person and give it a try. Let yourself truly be seen for who you really are. Bring up your big fears, regrets, pain. If the other person proves worthy of this gift, you will experience a true connection that will go far above and beyond anything that skims along the surface and you’ll see how valuable intentional vulnerability can be.

The First 20 Years are the Hardest

The First 20 Years are the Hardest

Being in a long-term committed marriage is hard. If you are both open to change and growth (which is a prerequisite if you want to have a healthy, mutually-satisfying relationship), you will have periods of calm interspersed with turbulent weeks and months of upheaval and uncertainty.

Jason and I are in one of those uneasy stretches of our path right now and we have been for a couple of months now. Over the course of our almost 18 years of marriage, we’ve made our way through many of these rocky patches so I know if we persevere, we are likely to make it through to a place of strength and encouragement. That helps in a vague, otherworldly sense, but day to day it’s not much damn good.

I really hate the rawness of these relationship struggles. Where my brokenness meets his brokenness, it all feels broken. And yet day to day we make it through. We laugh over silly little things, we cook meals, we make plans, we parent as a team.

marriageTrying to be real with each other has its rewards when the sky is blue and the sun is shining. When the storm clouds roll in, that same level of honesty and authenticity can be terrifying. It leaves you feeling alone, naked, vulnerable and small. It’s agonizing, but this is always where the growing happens. I want the growth. I just don’t like the pain that precedes it.

I’m glad we fell in love and chose each other all those years ago. Thank God the tough times are mixed in with the happy ones or no marriage would succeed. I think it’s important to get honest about the real struggles and hardships that every couple goes through, especially now when we live in such a shiny Instagram world. The pretty pictures don’t tell the whole story. There is more going on than we can see in photos and glib status updates on social media.

The point of commitment it to be committed. To walk as partners through the darkest sections of your lives. To confront the fear head-on, with as much bravery as you can muster. To own your own words and actions and allow your partner to own theirs. To do your best to collaborate with kindness, riding out the scariest times and trying to remember why you love each other and decided to hitch your wagons together all those years ago.

The easy days don’t teach us much. They are there to enjoy as memories to keep us warm and safe, but hardship is where the greatest lessons reside. One day we’ll look back on this season and it will make more sense to us. For now, we will keep moving forward, together as a team, doing our very best to ask for what we need and learn what we can when the dice doesn’t roll our way.

As a favourite pastor told us many years ago when we were newlyweds, “The first 20 years of marriage are the hardest.” Now that we are close to that milestone, I think I finally know what he meant. But the only way out is always through – so we continue to walk together, whistling in the dark to bolster our courage, reaching out for the other person’s hand in the blackest sections to remind yourself that you are not alone.