It was supposed to be a brilliant morning for an early morning run. It was supposed to be a relaxing 8-kilometre jog together before a languid breakfast in a new café to commemorate our 9 months of marriage since October 2012. We had barely started our run, but we were arguing already.
We ran 8 kilometres in bitter silence. I had asked how long it would take to go to the café. You weren’t too sure. I was upset because if it was a date, I would have expected you to be sure of this. It was a seemingly insignificant incident, now blown out of proportions due to old roots of bitterness from past incidents, triggering old feelings of insecurity and feelings of hurt. Undercurrents of judgment and pettiness rose to the surface, and suddenly, the clouds which blanketed the entire sky seemed all at once suffocating.
So it is in marriage and relationships. Little skirmishes happen ever so often, at times when least welcomed. Sometimes they may not even seem to make sense. And while most would think the two of us would surely be ever so calm, rational, forgiving and mature when it comes to conflict resolution (after all, haven’t we read a thousand books on Communication and gone through a hundred Marriage Preparation classes?), I know with shameful clarity how petty, belittling, unforgiving and outraged I can be, over the littlest things. Not to mention the times of unreasonable outbursts, fanned by fluctuating pre-menstrual hormones, and unspoken expectations.
Running home in pent-up silence, drops of rain fell sporadically from the sky, mirroring our moods. Then, as if in mocking, the heavens parted, and rain, like silver swords falling from the sky, pelted down upon us, drenching us. We were as wet as fish, slimy as slugs. This wasn’t a passing shower. It was a full-on thunderstorm, with the drama of gusty winds and lightning. The raindrops, large like stalactites, fell down mercilessly, stinging my eyes.
As the rain poured down, I suddenly saw how funny this all was: We were angry because I had first been slighted. I had expected you to know our morning schedule, including the time needed to travel to our destination, down to the minute. You, being you (and not obsessive-compulsive, over-meticulous, control-freak me), had allocated a roughly ample amount of time for our travel there. But that wasn’t good enough for me. With past incidents of us getting lost and rubbing each other the wrong way from different expectations of planning, this tiny, seemingly insignificant trigger sparked off an unexpected anger within me. But now that it was pouring madly as if the heavens was unleashing its own pent-up rage, however long it took for us to reach the café by train or bus or cab didn’t matter anymore- there was no way we could leave home anytime soon without getting drenched, umbrella or no umbrella. Our plans were rained in. I felt as though God was reminding me: Why do you allow your petty arguments and selfish expectations of each other cause you to forget I, who brought you together in the first place? Shouldn’t you be grateful that you even have the opportunity to celebrate nine months of your marriage? Why do you choose not to rejoice in this day I have made because of your own pettiness? In my micro-mind of selfishness, I had forgotten the macro-picture and left God out.
With the rainstorm blanketing our vision, I now saw clearly how futile, meaningless and silly the morning argument was.
So back home we went, our feet squelching in our wet shoes. After a short talk and a comforting hug, we decided to stay in. I cooked breakfast, and we decided it was more delicious and better for value than food served in any restaurant that we would have gone to.
After another long talk going through the many little skirmishes we had had in the past week, we saw that the root of many seemingly disparate conflicts was the hidden need for control, selfishness and also, financial constraints. Since returning from Canada and looking at our budget recently, we saw we needed to take an even closer look at our expenses and pare it down further. Unconsciously, this had caused us a great deal of unspoken stress, as I felt guilty about date treats and resentful when there weren’t any, because you too were conscious about how I would respond to another date suggestion. “But that’s too expensive”, “Nevermind, let’s just eat at the food court”, “No let’s just take the public transport” I would say, out of guilt- I was becoming more and more of a wet blanket, dousing the best of your intentions.
Suddenly I realized what we had been counseled about before marriage was true. No matter how selfless or ascetic you think you could be, marriage itself brings on a new set of adjustments, financial and otherwise. Unless you are constantly on guard, you could be a victim of your own nonchalance or misplaced pride. All at once, I saw the Princess in me, and I was ashamed by it.
That night, after being exceedingly difficult through the day, I apologized for my bad behavior. I had been gratingly whiney, ungrateful and complaining. Instead, you were extravagantly forgiving, and said, “It’s okay. I know you don’t mean it. It is just a phase you are going through.” Suddenly, those feelings of condemnation, shame and hurt left me immediately. At once, I realized the immense blessing you are to me and the wretched woman that I am.
And you just had to add on, “I feel really blessed in these 9 months, being married to you.”
Again and again, I am forgiven by you, even though I sin and hurt you and say things I don’t mean. Every time I try to be perfect, something trips me up and I fall flat on my face. But your grace extended to me mirrors the Perfect Grace God extends to us too, when we fall short of perfection repeatedly, no matter how hard we try.
Thank you for loving me, the way that you do.
Photo by Sandra Bosscher, taken in Mississauga, Canada
“Chivalry in love has nothing to do with the sweetness of the appearance.
It has everything to do with the tenderness of a heart determined to serve.”
—Ravi Zecharias