When Are You Too Young and Stupid to Get Married?

I got engaged at eighteen. Yes, I was very young. And my prince? He seemed old to me at the time. Mike was twenty. A year later we said, “I do.” (Actually, we said “I will.” I have always felt cheated I didn’t get to say “I do,” since I had dreamed of doing so since I was a little girl.) Two weeks after my nineteenth birthday, I was a married woman.  We had all the answers and cruised away into marital bliss.

And if you believed my last sentence then you’ve watched too many chick flicks.

Let’s get real! The only cruising we did in the beginning years of our marriage was on our honeymoon when we took an actual cruise. 

            Yes, we were young, which made the wedding and honeymoon all the more exhilarating and adventurous. I can recall thinking my life was like a fairytale after the wedding was over. Everything was in place.

Sure, our wedding day had quite a few bumps—from my dad’s tux not fitting to my future mother-in-law yelling at me while I was putting on my wedding dress.

            Oh, and then there was the “little” fight Mike and I had the morning of our wedding when we vowed not to get married.

            He was with his family, I was with mine, and we decided to talk on the phone. There was yelling and stress with my family and friction with his, and the anxious bride and groom decided we needed to talk. Instead of whispering sweet nothings to one another over the phone, we got into a fight, which escalated to screaming. And yes, there was a lot of name calling too. Okay, and maybe some swearing. Yeah, not my finest hour. But you should know we weren’t Christians then.  

             “He’s a JERK!” I screamed to my brother-in-law. “I’m not going to marry him! Did you hear what he called me?!” I can’t remember exactly what my soon-to-be brother-in-law said, but somehow he got us talking again.

And the wedding was back on.

            Our road to marital delight was a rocky one, for sure. We dated, got engaged, and married all without the help of knowing Jesus as Savior. It would have made the whole process immeasurably better had we been Christians, but we weren’t. We were two young kids trying to figure it all out.

            After over 37 years and raising three kids together, we are going stronger than ever. And did I mention my husband is a pastor? Yes, the young lady with the potty mouth became a pastor’s wife. Miracles happen.

During my honeymoon, I felt like I was living a fairytale, that is until the last night of our cruise jolted me back to reality. On the ship, the buffets were picturesque and the food was unending. As you can imagine we ate like we were royalty, and then more. A lot more!

            The day before the cruise ended and the ship docked, we handed over most of our luggage. We packed everything except the clothes we were wearing and turned over our bags to the ship’s crew. That night we ate to excess, as usual. We were seated at a big oval shaped booth and were eating, laughing, and enjoying the company of three other couples. Mike and I were in the center, unable to get out from either side.

            We were having an extremely good time until… it happened.  Suddenly, my husband put his head back and he began to vomit. As in barf, puke, heave, hurl! It was spewing out like a volcano, all over him and me!

Fairytale over.

            Silence. Everyone at the table sat with stunned silence. We excused ourselves and went to our tiny cabin room. But now we had a huge dilemma. The clothes we had on, now covered in vomit, were the only clothes we had. Everything else had been packed and taken away.

This is the part of the story where my resourceful wifey skills enter the scene. When you’re covered in vomit and have a sick husband, one has to think fast. Turning into a female MacGyver, I was able to get some laundry detergent from one of the workers on the ship and washed our clothes in the tiny sink. In the tiny bathroom. In our tiny cabin room.

Being MacGyver wasn’t adventurous at all.

            As I washed the clothes in the sink, I recall looking down at the dirty, barf-covered clothes, and thinking, “This is marriage.” As young and naïve as I was, I was right about this one realization. “This is marriage.” Sometimes marriage is washing vomit out of clothes. Sometimes it’s staying when everything inside of you wants to leave. Sometimes it’s scrubbing all the stains out until you can’t see them anymore. Sometimes it’s patching up your broken heart…again.

If you want a strong marriage, and one that honors God, you not only wrestle your own messes; you wrestle with your spouse’s messes too. You pull double duty! “This is marriage.” He hurled. I cleaned it up. It “landed” on both of us.

            But listen to the magic moment. Don’t miss this! When you put your spouse before yourself, times where you are cleaning up barf are worth every ounce of angst in exchange for the countless magical days and magnificent experiences. The more you jump in and take on challenges together, even the puky ones, that is when God is glorified the most and also when you will find your marriage the most satisfying. It is then you will have the best shot at finding happiness.

Amen?

May you find YOUR happily-ever-after!

Fondly,

Lu

[Taken from “From Me to We.”]

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