My husband, Doug, and I met at the beginning of our junior year in high school, went on one disastrous date, and then became good buddies. I dated one of his best friends for the rest of high school.
Here we are, two members of the 1973 graduating class of Northrop High School. I wore my hair the same way as practically every other girl in my class: long and straight, with no bangs. And holy tartar sauce, what's up with my skinny tadpole eyebrows? That's what I get for shaving -- yes, shaving -- them. Doug's tie knot is the size of a throw pillow, the epitome of 1970s GQness. He was utterly charming then, and still is. Sigh.
After graduation, Doug attended a small private college in southern Indiana, while I remained in Fort Wayne working at my dad's transportation company. We stayed in touch, though. Doug would call me promptly at midnight every New Year's Eve. He'd be at a party; I'd be home babysitting my little sister. Trust me: it's not as disheartening as it sounds.
Doug transferred to the Fort Wayne campus of Indiana University to finish his degree and started dropping by my house...a lot. The warmth of
like expanded into
love,
and we said our "I dos!" on August 26, 1978.
Our 35th wedding anniversary is fast approaching -- and all we can say is that we're grateful and a bit awestruck to still be Mr. and Mrs. Doug Ford. Every couple has its issues. Mine were selfishness, passivity and deceitfulness. Doug's baggage was equally damaging to him and to us. While we wholeheartedly love each other, for the better part of our marriage we couldn't, wouldn't own up to our ugly, willful actions. Don't get me wrong; we weren't living in Dante's
Inferno. We genuinely liked and loved each other and enjoyed being together. Yet we were trapped in a cycle of acting out, getting angry, punishing each other with silence, making up, and then settling back into our lives.
This volcano had to blow...and it did.
The exact date escapes me. The conversation is wallpapered on my mind.
Me: WHAT are we doing? What are we DOING?
Doug: Do you want to be married to me?
Me: Yes. Do you want to be married to me?
Doug: Yes.
Me: What am I doing that is hurting us?
Doug: What am I doing that is hurting us?
We both already knew the answers. Naming them one-by-one acknowledged the real sadness and hurt they'd caused, something we'd deliberately tried to ignore with our crazy fighting/make-up cycle.
It took several years; two major crises; more confessions and apologies; a mindful plan for effectively dealing with our issues and their fallout; plus a heap of humble prayers for God's protection, power and transforming grace to repair and restore our marriage. That's a towering mountain for any couple to try and climb. Two things brought immediate relief, lightness, and encouragement to keep going.
The first was kindness. Neither one of us made a conscious decision to regularly and deliberately find ways to be kind to each other. No, "Today I shall draw my wife a bath!" or "Tonight I shall give my husband a foot rub!" Instead, one morning I woke up and found a cup of tea waiting for me on the counter. And the next morning. And the next morning. One evening Doug returned home from work and found a wife
excited about preparing a delicious dinner. And the next evening. And the next evening. Kindness reminded us that we were
for each other and for Us. It was the Miracle Grow that fed our love while we dug out the destructive weeds that had choked the life out of our union.
The second was sharing life. I realize that sounds odd. After all, we lived in the same house. Slept in the same bed. But between work and parenting and life's many demands, we really didn't spend much time together. None of those things were going to change, so we found little ways to connect. When Doug went to get gas for the lawnmower, I'd go with him. When he mowed the lawn, halfway through the task I'd take him a glass of water. He' call me on his way home from work to say, "See you soon" or slip into the bedroom while I was reading a book for
Mid-Morning to give me a kiss. Small points of contact that whispered,
I meant it when I said I want to be married to you, and am willing to do whatever it takes to make Us strong.
I don't know what condition your marriage is in. But what I do know is this: a resurrected marriage is a wonder to behold and a ravishing gift to experience. I've lost count of the number of times Doug or I will say to each other, "What are you smiling about?" The answer is summed up in a single word: Us.
And we are so grateful.
Our little family of three is now five: Doug, me, J.R.'s wife Jeni, son Elijah, and J.R.
