Part Five: Real Love

That Love is all there is,
Is all we know of Love.
- Emily Dickinson

Marriage is a lot like going to see a band you really, really love for the first time.

You have their records, you’ve read about them, seen the airbrushed photos in Rolling Stone. You have all the lyrics memorized, you feel like you have a deep personal connection with the lead singer - who has written this poetry that holds a special meaning only you understand. You know deep down that despite their faults they’ve really just been misunderstood by a small-minded public who can’t possibly appreciate their brilliance. They aren’t the greatest band ever, (that’s the Beatles...duh) but they are close to second greatest…maybe even closer than Radiohead.

The band takes the stage…they look a little different then you imagined, not as trendily dressed as those pictures in Rolling Stone, they don’t seem as excited as you are…they seem, and this is almost unthinkable, bored.

After playing through a few songs where the singer forgets a couple words and hits a few wrong notes you begin to realize…your band, your favorite band...

…is awful. They don’t play your favorite songs, they screw up the ones you like. You spend the rest of the performance wondering what you were thinking all this time, being enamored with these…amateurs.

The show ends…

You leave having lost the ability to enjoy anything, driving home in silent defeat.

I expected Lacey to be the solution to my problems, the reliever of my headaches, the band-aid on scraped knees. I expected her to want to do everything I wanted to do, to be more clever than me, to enjoy my company when I felt like spending time with her and to leave me alone when I was busy obsessively playing the guitar, a video game, or watching a movie.

Of course by now you’re wondering…what on earth did Lacey see in me?

The answer is…we were both like that fan before the show. Except whenever we were together we were also the band…without any of the wrinkles, dressed in our photo-shoot best and ready to massage each other’s egos with a live performance worthy of being recorded by BBC.

The wool that is pulled over every newlywed’s eyes may not be as thick as the wool that was over our eyes (the wool over our eyes must have been woven out of bricks and the darkness of outer space).

I would like to take a moment to cut off anyone thinking some idiotic thought like “you obviously weren’t right for each other”.

Nobody is “right” for each other. We are all selfish egomaniacs devoted to the pursuit of our own desires at the expense of anything or anyone.

There are no two people that magically fit together; we’re all a bunch of bolt A’s trying to fit into slot B (yes…there is a kinky metaphor there, pervert).

The point is that my problems with Lacey and Lacey’s much more serious problems with me are not unique because of our youth or circumstances.

A good cliché to destroy would be “Wait for the one who is right for you” after all, aren’t divorces the result of married couple’s unmet expectations?

Praise God there was a third party involved in our married life…without the instruction and conviction of the Spirit I don’t know that I would have ever seen the depth of my depravity.

As it is the only reason Lacey hasn’t stabbed me to death with a kitchen knife is because every time I’ve neglected nurturing her or worse, shredded her with harsh, biting words…I’ve immediately realized how much I deserved instant painful death, and been destroyed by the guilt over how rampantly self-serving I am.

To this day I have to fight against my selfish impulses when she is in need. But you know what? The more times I put down the guitar when she asks for something, the easier it gets.

By God’s grace, there will come a day when I no longer need to be asked, I'll just know.