This wasn’t the post I planned. But, for us, married life ain’t easy, sometimes. So, a change of plans.

There’s more than one word to describe marriage, at least for us. Difficult, confusing, strenuous, baffling, tough, challenging, laborious, complex, complicated. I could go on. Especially when two different people have two very different views on how it’s going.  

Especially when you’re the one thinking it’s going fine.   

She said it.  

From the mind of God through the heart and words of my wife.  The solution.  To all of our problems, our separate lives, our complete and utter inability to ever get this marriage thing right.   

“Are we done?”  I asked her in the past.  

“No.” She replied. Honestly, to my surprise.  

Now, after the book, after the change, after moving on, moving forward, airing what needed to be aired, we’re right back where we started.  

Apparently, we just suck at married life.  I’m not sure how else I can eloquently and genuinely describe it. I know, Hillary and I are the only ones.  And we’re sorry.  We’re bad examples.  Claiming to be changed, led, plastering on happy faces.  The truth?

Married life just isn’t our strong suit.    

“Are we done?  Again?”  

We’re too independent.  Living in our phones and going in separate ways at different times chasing kids and whatever carrots are out there leading us this way and that.  We’re roommates, checking in here and there while we just try to make everything work.    

Last night, she had the solution.  To succeed in life, maybe.  But for now, the solution to married life as yet another cycle comes, ends in tears, heartache, and we’re left asking, why?  Why does this keep happening?  Why do we ride this brightly colored carousel almost every year?  Sometimes more?  

“Try till we die.”  She hesitated.  Waited to see how I’d respond.  

Honestly, that sounds like a lot.  Like work.  A lot of work.  Maybe more than I signed up for.  This might take a while.  Like all of our lives.  Until I’m dead?  Looks that way.  Am I in?   

Do I really want to fix our marriage?  

Another argument.  Another cycle.  Each time we realize we just can’t get it right.  

Breakdown, conflict, tears, questions.  

Why?  

Marriage.  

Sure, on the outside maybe we, maybe everyone tries to seem like Chip and Joanna Gains.  Happy, in love, rolling with everything.  Putting on a show, for everyone.   

But what about behind the scenes?  No, not on their T.V. show.  But in their lives.  Their honest lives.  How’s marriage, really?  How’s life, really?  What are their honest struggles, fears, issues? 

Maybe it’s all good, all the time.  Just like on T.V.  Though, I’m guessing not.  

Behind closed doors, Hillary hits me with it.  

“Ya know, you’re writing all this stuff, and maybe, yeah, when it comes to the kids, life, and work.  But, I don’t know, when it comes to me?  When it comes to us?”

Mic.  Drop.  

I thought it was fine.  Same old and on, partnering, getting through, making it all flow.  Kids, sports, work, overtime, pumpkin lattes, phones, pedicures, the gym, dinner, family time, it seems to be flowing, fine?

Normal?  What’s wrong with normal?

Isn’t being normal, fine?  Average?  The same?   

Do we even need to fix our married life?  Do we need to “fix” anything?

There I was.  Old me, ready to defend, point the finger, make excuses.  But I…  You…  That wasn’t what I…..  You’re not….

I was turning the car right, and God started turning left.  

“Nope, we’re headed this way this time.”    

Except I grabbed that wheel and started to yank it the opposite way. 

Instead of fighting me, it just started turning.  He wasn’t going to resist.  He wouldn’t override my decisions.  But He wouldn’t leave my mind.

My decisions.    

Self serving.  Self preserving.  All about self.  All about me.  

He wouldn’t stop.  “You probably don’t want to go that way.  There’s no life there.  Just the same old stuff.  The same relationships.  The same problems, solutions, empty promises.  We’ll do better,  be better, try harder.  I’m still thinking you should head left here.”  

I stopped.  She’s quiet.  I’m quiet.  I know she expects something but I have no idea what.  Honestly, I’m not even certain I’m in the wrong.  But perception is reality.  So at this point, it doesn’t matter.  Even if I don’t like it.

Something’s off.  

Because she’s crying.  And I’m ticked that she’s crying.  And I don’t think I did anything wrong but somehow it still comes back to me.  But this is, normal.   This is our cycle.  Ride it out for a few days.  It’ll be fine.  Ok.  Same Old.  

God, weren’t you supposed to fix this?  Isn’t this supposed to be your family now?  Why is she acting this way?  I need you to fix her.  

Then, He responded.  “I am fixing it, you, her.”  I wait a few seconds.  She’s not saying anything.  I’m still at a loss for words.  

“Take a walk.”  

I don’t remember what I said, but she gave me a look as I walked out and shut the bedroom door hoping the kids weren’t all huddled up listening on the other side.  When they were young we could turn on the T.V. and they were none the wiser.  

Now, if they see mom tearing up and dad looking like his head’s gonna explode, they wonder what’s up. What’s going on?  Is this what married life looks like?  Is this my future with that special someone who catches my eye?

I can sense my daughter saying in her own head, “I feel like that doesn’t look appealing.  Is mom OK?  Is dad ticked?  Don’t we go to church, pray as a family, believe in God?  Isn’t He supposed to fix everything and make it a perfect, cheery, Garden of Eden?  Maybe this marriage thing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”  

So I walk.  

Outside under a smoke colored sky that looks like it could open up and drown me at any time.  No ear buds.  No distractions. The wind at my back is almost pushing me along to keep going, keep walking, keep…

Listening.  

And some things that are better not shared with the world are brought up as the God of the universe rips opens your chest and points out your heart.

“There’s still a problem here.”  

And here, and here, and there, and even….here.  And the problem is you, and her, yes, but I’m talking to you. 

So I keep walking.  

By the time I get back to the house all the problems and history I wanted to point out and make her see about herself have gone away.  

I’m left with the truth. And all I could do was tell her.  So I walked in the door and past the kids.  

Past all the happy signs and pictures and warm comforts that make our house a home.  Past the dog who is usually stuck to the side of Hillary’s leg.  Even he seems to sense he should probably just stay in his cage at this point.  

There she is.  On her side of the bed, trying to read, but probably just staring at words.   I close the door, quietly.  Wait for little footsteps to come and gather at the door.  

There are none.  

I don’t remember how I started or what was said.  Just that the tears came back.  No, not mine.  I’m an emotionless prick, remember?  I do know there were no excuses.  There was no finger pointing.  There were no knives thrown at anyone with looks, stares, or words.  

There was just a quiet understanding in all the space between two people together for over twenty years that know, feel, and understand.  

Even if it doesn’t always work.  

This has to get better.  We have to do better.  We have to fix our marriage.  She stands up.  Walks over.  Looks at me.  

“Try till we die.”  

Deep breath.  I think, yeah, that kinda sums it up.  

For marriage, for parenthood, work and working on ourselves.  God made no promises of a Garden of Eden on this side of eternity.  He only issues two commands.  

Repent and believe.  Turn away from yourself, and follow Me.  Connect with Me. I’ll take it from there.

He will lead.  

And while that applies to me, it also applies to us.  So that’s what we’ll do.  All masks aside, all cards on the table.  I am under new leadership, yes.  But the process is extremely slow.  

Isn’t that what I’m looking for?  What I wish others would search out?  The slow and steady.  The rich and deep.  I hope it’s where we’re headed these days.  Giving up the busy.  Giving up the unnecessary.  Focusing on the things that matter.  Until we die.  Connecting, personally, with God. Letting Him lead.

We’ll do the best we can with everything else, what we have, and the leadership He shows.

And that’s all anyone can do, and expect, I suppose.  

Try til ya die.  

Sounds like the title for a new Eminem song.  That’s what I was supposed to write about this week.  Finding true salvation and connection in Eminem.  I guess Mr. Mathers will have to wait.

For now, Hillary and I are putting up the hoodies, earbuds in.  Working out together in the gym (hypothetically, I work out by myself, no exceptions, and she loves her AMCHATS).  I think I see Christ leading this program in front.  He looks buff, focused, intense. Like this isn’t a joke. Like people’s lives, relationships, children, and wellbeing in all the ways that actually matter, are on the line.

It’s time to get it.  I’ll let you know how it goes.  Maybe. Or maybe we’ll keep being fake and just always say we’re good, great, fine. Never better.  We’ll just live in the cycles.  Wear the same masks that many do.  Hopefully not.  

Hopefully, we try til we die.

And if you see us, ask us how we’re doing. If you get the feeling we’re feeding you a line of BS, you have our permission to call us out.

I promise, we’ll do the same for you.

Oh, and if you know or see Chip and Joanna or know their people, can you tell them I want to talk to them? I’d love an interview.

I’ve got a few questions.     

Cheers

C.

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Written by: Chad Campese

Chad Campese is a father, husband, police officer, blogger, and author of the book Confession of a Christian Fraud.  He holds a BA in Christian Counseling and psychology, is heavily involved in peer support and recovery when it comes to first responders, and is an expert in living his life and faith as a fraud. These days he simply relies on the leading of the Spirit as he tries to slowly and purposefully take life one day at a time.