Mustn't get knocked off track

I think I may be especially vulnerable to the past - such as in the area I was hit with yesterday - when I am in the midst of examining the effects of other, related parts of my deeper past on the person I am today and, more importantly, on the ways I am to grow into the person I am called to be.  I've been in the middle of that difficult process for a few weeks now, acknowledging a personal aspect of myself that I believe is important to recognize and deal with without self-indulgence.

I feel derailed by yesterday.

Another slap

I'm never quite ready for the shock of seeing people whom I know and respect express their deeply rooted wish that I was dead.

Oh, it's never personal.  That's part of what makes it so legitimate.  If they knew that I was a member of the class of people they're condemning, they would probably bite back their vitriol against me.  Instead, it comes pouring forth in their well-intended desire for a safer world.

I find that I can't just explain myself.  It isn't that "they don't deserve any explanation," as if I am somehow above those who condemn me.  It's that I just can't go through life continually defending who I was in terms of a) what made me who I was, b) how I responded, and c) who I have since become.  I've always known I couldn't excuse away my actions, and I'm learning that there is no point in feeling as if I must somehow justify myself to others.

I believe my actions were deplorable, and that I am forgiven for them.  I must remember this in the face of what represents, at its root, my own former accusation against myself.

Twisting a cliché

They say good relationships are a matter of give and take.

I'm inclined to believe they're more a matter of give and receive.

Coping with changes

This post is probably best considered a follow-up to my last one.

We've probably all heard - though hopefully not firsthand! - the clichéd lament invoked at the end of a marriage: "You're just not the person I married anymore."

Well, of course not!  All of life is change.  The type of changes we undergo is what distinguishes the living from the inanimate, and the specific changes we experience are part of what makes even two genetically identical people different from each other.  When you come right down to it, it's the series of changes that we encounter one moment at a time that ultimately defines our life.  I'm amazed at how many couples enter marriage with two antipodal expectations.  We never want any of the things we love about our partner to change, yet we expect any negative characteristics to change for the better.  Personally, I find that the ways in which my bride has changed have resulted in her growing into a much better version of herself (in Matthew Kelly's words) than she was at the outset of our life together.  But it's also true that many of the changes that are manifest in us are not for the better.  As we grow more at ease in our relationship and let our guard down, we may be more comfortable making choices that don't make for such a positive home environment, that are not such pleasant experiences for the people we love.  Dealing with these sorts of changes in a way that is still nurturing and loving, rather than enabling, presents a whole other set of challenges.

But what about when the changes aren't in my partner, but in me?  For instance, I know people who have come to conclude, after some amount of time in their marriage, that they're interested in things that they mostly don't share in common with their spouse.  Some have reached the conclusion that they've really been attracted to other members their own gender all along.  (While it might not seem as if that's a change, their realization that this is the case certainly is, and would seem an unsolvable obstacle to the preservation of the marital relationship.  Or perhaps the change is more an unwillingness to subjugate that part of themselves to the needs of their marriage partner any longer.  I'm not trying to debate here what is the right resolution to this quandary.)  Even what would seem more beneficial changes can be more disruptive than one might think, depending on the emotional environment in which they occur.  In my own marriage, for a time the development of my spirituality seemed to distance me from my bride, and it took me years to become emotionally ready to deal with the underlying issues between us that this revealed.  In the intervening time I also underwent some very negative changes, which ultimately led to the more positive ones I needed to make all along.

Though sometimes the changes we experience are due to circumstances beyond our control, many of the changes that we undergo are the result of decisions we make - often minor, sometimes monumental.  In either case, consciously deciding how to respond to them within the context of our marital relationship will be the chief thing that determines whether these changes separate us or bring us closer.  I am convinced that if I develop the habit of making these choices in the way that is most loving to my wife, the resulting changes will be facilitate our union rather than obstructing it.

I suppose my point is that change is inevitable in both members of a marriage, and preserving our relationship as we each become very different from the people we were when we made our vows, well, it takes a real commitment to loving each other.  It helps to remember that, no matter how drastic the changes we undergo,  for each of us the soul of our person-hood remains present, hopefully growing into the best version of ourselves along the way.

Learning to love my bride as she and I both experience life's changes is ultimately a great joy.

When two become one, does each one become less? Half, even?

It is undoubtedly true that a husband and a wife must make sacrifices for their marriage to be successful.  But is there anything that a husband (or a wife) shouldn't be willing to give up for the sake of their relationship with their spouse?

A few things come to mind, mostly nebulous and hard to nail down, and on further reflection most of those tend to be carried to a level that should really make them less sacrosanct.  For instance, you could make a strong case that you should never give up your self respect, and I don't think I'd argue against that too strongly.  The thing is, I've seen too many spouses insist that's the ground on which they're making their stand, when what they're really clinging to is their right to be right.  But don't get me wrong: I'm not condoning putting up with emotional abuse, or worse, when I argue for a more cautious application of this standard.  (Though I do believe that too many people leave their relationships without having undertaken appropriate steps under the guidance of the right professional help to have a decent chance to fix what's wrong.)

How about an essential part of their personality?  After all, it's probably true that a loving spouse wouldn't ask their mate to sacrifice a central part of themselves.  An important part of loving someone else is accepting the things that make them unique.  But there's a difference between asking one's partner to give up some fundamental part of themselves and voluntarily doing so myself for the sake of our relationship. And I probably shouldn't have too great an attachment to any part of myself that interferes with my ability to love my spouse as I ought, right?  ("Ought" is a somewhat misplaced concept here, as it places obligation above generosity in love.)

I feel as if I have a lot of experience in this area, but also imagine this is the case for most married people.  There is also the question of how fundamental some part of us - some characteristic or tendency - may be.  Sometimes, too, there may be the additional issue of just how innate versus how learned some aspect of our self is.  But to me those questions seem to take a back seat to that of how much it might hurt my partner were I to indulge some part of myself that doesn't fit in the context of our relationship.  More fundamentally, don't we often embrace parts of our self that God would have us let go of to become the best version of our self, and shouldn't we be willing to let those go in the context of our marriage?

Our society tends to think - to trumpet, even - that there are some things that are just so intrinsic to our being that we shouldn't ever be expected, should never even try, to subjugate that part of our being to the greater good of our relationship.  And after all, it argues (when it bothers acknowledging Him at all), it is God who made us as we are, and surely God loves and accepts us as we are and even wants us to celebrate who He has made us to be.  But I clearly tend to disagree with the way many people apply this principle.  Our natural lives alone should be all the evidence that we need to conclude that, in this life, at least, God never, ever intends for us to remain as we are, for there is never a day in which we are exactly the same as the day before.  Just as we cannot become mature persons without giving up our dependence on our parents for every aspect of our lives, so we cannot become mature people without giving up other parts of our self that are probably less central to our being than that dependence once was.

I titled this post with a question that I believe is answered with, "Of course not!"  I think that we too often mistakenly overvalue the parts of ourselves we're called to give up and undervalue the relationship, the sacrificial love, which we gain in return, and which makes us far more than the one we started out as.