My parents live over 6 hours from us, but my children have been fortunate to be able to spend a week, each by themselves, being spoiled by their grandparents.  We always plan the weeks back-to-back, and meet after the first week at a half-way point to exchange children.

A few years back, at the end of the two weeks, our son needed to be retrieved.  So, my parents were going to meet us at the half-way point.  I thought to myself, “there really is no reason to drag us all there, just to grab my son and turn around to come home.”

The week before, I had had to spend most of the week at a work conference away from home.  But while I was away, I explained this to my wife, thinking “wow, what a relief it will be for her and my daughter to not have to spend 7 hours in the car.”

I flew in Friday evening, confirmed the plans for Saturday, and went to bed.  I was pretty proud of myself!  (That should have been my first clue!)

Saturday morning, bright and early, I struck out.  Nobody was even up yet.

So there I was, driving across the state, and starting through the mountains.  The story I was telling myself?  What a hero I was!  Everyone at home would enjoy a relaxing day, we would be back by mid-afternoon, and hey, I was sacrificing, “taking one for the team!”

Imagine my surprise when I called home, and my daughter answered.  I quickly realized all was NOT OK on the homefront!  She asked where I was.  I told her I was in the mountains, about 45 minutes from picking up her brother.  She was quiet and said “mom’s mad.”  Then I lost reception.

When I finally got to better reception, I realized that in my zeal to be the hero, I didn’t really listen to my wife.  She hadn’t so much agreed as had little chance to disagree.  She was wanting to go, wanting to ride with me, wanting to spend those hours in the car.  I had been gone for several days, and now was gone again.  I would have the joy of hearing about my son’s week.  I would see my parents, not her.

Wow!  The story in my head was NOT the story that was happening.  In my story, I was the hero.  In my wife’s story, I was the villain!

Who was right?

Turns out, the same thing happens to all of us!  Invariably, we tell a story more kind to ourselves.  But if everyone is doing that, then someone else is going to have to play the villain.  Unfortunately, in marriages, that is often a spouse.

My point?  Simply this:  when there is conflict, we usually tell a story that puts us in the best light, and by doing so, tell ourselves a story that puts our spouse in a poorer light.  In reality, neither is true.  We are never as altruistic, benevolent, and helpful as we spin ourselves.  And nor is our spouse as mean, malevolent, and destructive as we spin them.

Since we humans are all fiction writers at heart, making up the scenes as we go along, it is important that we be more careful with how we play the “protagonist/antagonist” plotline in our minds.  In fact, I always suggest we:

1)  See others as innocent.  Everyone really tries to do the best they can, albeit imperfectly.
2)  See ourselves as realistically as possible.  In the end, we all want what we want, and sometimes act in ways that are less kind than we would like to think.
3)  Realize that the plots, stories, and scripts we write in our heads do as much to limit us as they do to comfort us.  They comfort us by allowing us to believe what we want to believe, but also limit the possibilities that we need to be a bit uncomfortable.  That is what makes us grow!

I hope you will indulge me for just a single post that is slightly off the subject.  You see, my dear Grandmother passed away yesterday morning at the age of 95.  She was a dear soul that left a huge impression upon me.

My grandmother, Ruth, was an amazing person, probably the most optimistic person I have ever met.  Even through tough times, she always managed to see the silver lining.  What a rare commodity in a world of cynicism and deficit.  My grandmother was a woman of abundance.

A devoted wife, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, she lived through amazing times.  When my grandfather died over 30 years ago, she continued to consider herself married for the rest of her life.  When she and my grandfather lived through the Great Flood in Louisville, she remembers fondly watching the city come together.  What an attitude!

I vividly recall spending a week each summer with my grandparents, awakening to find my grandmother in a meditative mood, reflecting on the wonders of God’s creation — and I also remember her Sanka breath.  She did love that Sanka, although I have yet to figure out why!

And when I finished my dissertation, my grandmother relished reading it word-for-word.  Soon, I discovered that she also read all of my references, getting access to obscure books through inter-library loan.  I discovered she was still digging when she contacted me for some of the books that the library could not get.

I still believe that she more thoroughly read my dissertation than any of my faculty advisors, and I dare say, more closely than even I!

Part of what I understand about being a thriving human, one who sees marriage and life as devotion and growth, comes from that legacy.  My grandmother was always curious, reading books and asking questions all her life.  And she was devoted.  She loved my grandfather and was a partner with him throughout their lives together.

I will miss my grandmother.  But I know that she lived a rich and full life, one that spanned both depth and time.  Even with 95 years, I don’t think she wasted a minute.

You may not recall that on August 13, 1988, it was a Saturday.  It was also somewhere between 90 and 150 degrees in the mountains of North Carolina.  But I still recall melting away in my WOOL tuxedo. . . bathed in sweat, and waiting for my beautiful bride to come down the aisle.  People thought it was touching how I was crying throughout the service, as my father who was one of the pastors of the service (my father-in-law the other), handed me his handkerchief.  I was using it to mop my face, not my eyes (not that I wasn’t a little tearful, just not buckets!).

My mother-in-law, God love her, had matched the bridesmaids’ dresses to the stainglassed windows, and by golly, those windows were going to stay closed!  Well, they did, and we did survive the service.

I still smile about that.  But 22 years later, Kathy and I are still married.  Not just married, but happily married.

Many people wonder about me, writing and teaching on marriage.  They wonder whether I do what I say (I try), and whether my marriage is healthy.  Sometimes, people imagine I must be the perfect spouse (FAR from it!), because I “know so much about marriage.”  Just remember that knowing about marriage and knowing about your own marriage is not always a perfect match.

However, I believe we have a very strong and good marriage.  Not because we do it perfectly, but because we keep on trying!  And that is part of what I have learned in these last 22 years.  I am learning as I go.  Sometimes I learn fast, and sometimes I learn slow.  But my commitment is to keep moving forward.  That is what makes the difference:  we are committed to working through and staying together.

Do we have disagreements?  Absolutely!  Every marriage has its struggles.  The difference between marriages that make it and those who don’t is NOT the absence of struggle.  It is the commitment to struggle together, to stay together.

Which leads to another opportunity for growth:  In these 22 years, I have discovered the great gift of forgiveness.  Living so close together, the only way a marriage can survive is if both people decide to forgive, over and over, for slights that are accidental and sometimes even on purpose.

One day, I truly realized that not forgiving was doing ME the damage, not the other person.  Sure, it was hurting the relationship, but it was ME doing it.  What I really needed to do was to let it go, stop dragging it around, and decide to move back into relationship.  Thank God my wife is naturally forgiving and gave me something to see.  And given my propensity for hard-headedness, I gave plenty of opportunities for Kathy to demonstrate it.

I often hear people say “I just don’t have that loving feeling anymore.”  Thank you, Hollywood, for selling us the story of falling madly in love, and always feeling passionate!  That isn’t reality, but it is our measuring stick.  We assume that not having those feelings means the relationship is in trouble.

Problem is, there are times that I forget what I have.  Sometimes, I get busy, distracted.  I take for granted my loving, lovely wife.  I stop looking at her with those loving eyes.  But then, I pause for a moment and look into those eyes, or I see her do something selfless and loving, and I fall in love all over again.

In the meantime, I keep acting loving.  I learned that, too!  Love is a verb, not a feeling.  The feeling follows on the heels of acting loving.  And the feeling returns, when you stay committed to being in the game.  Two people acting in loving ways toward each other is unstoppable!

I believe, both from my practice and my experience, that the same two people can either drive each other crazy or be crazy about each other.  And the choice, known or not, is theirs.

No marriage is perfect, because there are no perfect people.  But the task is to keep perfecting, keep trying, keep playing, and keep the commitment.

Thank you, Kathy, for being my partner, friend, confidante, and love for these past 22 years!