Photo Credit: Alexander Ipfelkofer, Creative Commons
It was a Monday afternoon — “Black Monday” as we would refer to it later, half joking, half still stinging from the pain of it all — that I told my husband I was sorry, but I couldn’t marry him.
This is the part of the story we don’t like to tell.
We had argued. Over something dumb, but it always starts with something dumb, doesn’t it? Before we knew it, it had escalated from “something dumb” to cheap shots we were taking at each other, making sure no one person walked away feeling more pain than the other. We drudged up all the good stuff. All the insecurities, all the history, all the previous grievances and baggage. No stone left unturned. No rules. Just ammunition.
And at the end of it all, I just said it. I can’t marry you.
It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t more ammunition. It was real, genuine concern for what loomed ahead of us the next few weeks, months, years. Our lifetime. It was fear rising up, like last night’s spicy dinner in the back of my throat. Fear that we had misread the signals, that I had mis-stepped somewhere along the way, fear that, if I didn’t hit the breaks, we would spend a lifetime like this.
Fighting. Hating. Taking swings at the person we loved most.
“I give up.” I told him.
These were the words coming out of my mouth, but the thoughts racing through my mind were about the hundreds of invitations that had already been delivered to people all over the country. They were about the dress, made from expensive fabric, that had already been measured to suit my body perfectly. They were about my parents, and his parents, and each of our siblings.
We hadn’t “tied the knot” yet, but our lives were already knotted together, intertwined with memories and loved ones and shared relationships and experiences. If we called it quits now, there would be so much unraveling to do.
In my mind, I was untying all of the knots.
I was peddling backwards, mentally undoing all that had been done.
He wasn’t. He was moving toward me. His expression softened. He reached for my hands. He looked in my eyes. “I’m really sorry,” he said. “I was being really selfish. We can work this out,” he promised. Gently, he grabbed my face in his hands and, as tears streamed down my cheeks, he said,
“Will you please trust me?”
I did. I trusted him enough to go to dinner with him that night, where we sat for hours and talked about what had happened, why we had fought the way that we had, and how we would prevent a fight like that from ever happening again. I trusted him each time he moved forward in humility, enough to follow suit. I apologizing the way he had, offered forgiveness the way he had, softened my expression the way he was, confessed my insecurity, just like him.
Less than a month later, we stood at the altar and said “I do,” and each breathed a sigh of relief because we had made it.
We were married.
What I didn’t know, or at least didn’t think about, was that Black Monday wasn’t the last time we would fight. Not even close. It wasn’t the last time we would drudge up old baggage and hit each other below the belt. It wasn’t the last time we would, almost unknowingly, try untying emotional and physical knots that bound us so securely, beautifully and painfully together.
It wasn’t the last time we would try to protect ourselves before the other.
In fact, it was more the first time than the last.
It was the first time we would choose to stick it out, even when it didn’t feel good. It was the first time we would trust each other enough to humble ourselves in the heat of a moment. It was the first time we would apologize, trusting that if one of us went first, the other would soon follow — or that if they didn’t, it was because they were hurting, not because they were mean.
It was the first time we would give the other space to be imperfect.
Our first chance to practice the art of grace.
Each time we do it we get better, the way an infant learns to walk, first scooting, then crawling, then pulling himself up on the corners of coffee tables. Sometimes he falls, and he hits his face on the edge of the table. When that happens, he cries, because it hurts. But a few minutes later he gets up and tries again, because, well, this is the only way.
It’s the only way to discover all this big, beautiful world has to offer.
“I can’t promise you that we won’t fight,” my husband told me that night at dinner.
“I can’t promise you that I won’t mess up, or that I won’t hurt you, or that I won’t do something to make you really angry. In fact I can promise you that I will do those things. What I can promise you is that you can trust me. I pick you. I won’t ever give up on you.”
And we’ve been learning to walk ever since.
Question: Have you ever kept fighting for a relationship, even when it was hard? Was it worth it? To respond, click HERE.
Sister, sounds like you married yourself quite a man.
Yes, I do, Lucie. He’s a keeper.
Beautifully written…
Thank you!
For me, the point of this is that the love you experience from him is greater because of the brokenness you see. The beauty isn’t in doing things perfectly, but in the grace offered when it isn’t.
I have often wondered why God made all of this only to see the fall come about. Why make us when he knew we would walk away from him. Maybe so that he could offer grace and we might know him through grace and not in perfection.
Jeremy — that’s beautiful. “The beauty isn’t in doing things perfectly, but in the grace offered when it isn’t.” It is so counter-intuitive, and so opposite of what I expected marriage to be like, but every time we practice this together, I feel like I get a more clear picture of God and how he loves me.
It’s awesome.
This is an incredible story to share. People need to hear of couples that stick together and work it out versus taking the easy path of running away. (And this is very very well written too.
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Thanks so much, Jason. That’s exactly what I was going for. I wanted people to know that couples fight. (Or at least, we fight. I hope we aren’t the only ones.) And that the beauty isn’t in the absence of conflict, but in the resolution.
Glad you liked it.
Awesome. I love reading about people who don’t give up.
Thanks John. Glad you liked it.
Trust is such an important word that I’m always exploring a bit further in our marriage. Good words.
Thank you, Ed.
Once again I find myself reading words that feel like they’re spilling out of my own heart. My boyfriend (of 2 years) and I are on a break so that we can hopefully discern what God’s will is for us. It has been heartbreaking for me, and I find myself constantly battling my own thoughts as to whether giving up is where I’m headed, and that can be a good thing… or if I just need to die to myself, stop being selfish and fight harder. That part is tough, especially when you want to fight for your relationship but you’re not sure if it’s the right way.
Thanks for this, Ally. It at least reminds me of what I want.
Kristin — that’s so awesome, and maybe the best compliment you could give, that my story reminds you of what you want. That is my hope and prayer with writing.
You’ll have to fight for any relationship. The question you have to ask yourself isn’t “am I willing to fight?” it’s “am I willing to fight for THIS relationship?”
I’ll pray for you as you navigate this big decision.
Oh, sorry, and one more question you have to ask yourself, too: Is he willing to fight?
The last thing you want is to be fighting for your relationship alone.
I love reading this. So refreshing in the age of quitting when it gets too hard. While I am still waiting for someone to whisper “I pick you” to me – it give me hope he is out there!
Allison — I’m so glad this gives you hope. He IS out there, and even though marriage is difficult, there is nothing like being picked, and picking back. It’s the one of the best things I’ve ever experienced.
Wow. I feel as though you just tore a page from my journal (only your words are more eloquently put). My husband and I had a very similar fight before our wedding and have even had a few of these after. I too am learning the beauty of grace and a willingness to fight for something I know is worth fighting for. Thanks so much for sharing!
Jess — I’ve heard so many stories of couples who walk through difficult disagreements in their engagements, and I want to start honest conversations, to help singles cope with the inevitable fear that comes along with choosing the “right” person.
Thank you for sharing your story, and for reading.
Allison,
Wow, I am so glad you wrote this–for yourself, for the thousands of brides (and grooms) who have had similar experiences, myself included.
Right before my wedding I had a crisis of faith–faith in the man I was about to marry. Was I making the right choice? Was this really the person God had for me? I had a friend tell me that at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. If I said “I do” then God would be on our side. God would desire for nothing less than to see our marriage prosper. I held onto that for a long time.
This isn’t a fairy tale. We aren’t princesses being rescued by the perfect prince. But it becomes our story nonetheless. It becomes God’s story too and it becomes worth it. Love you, friend.
Nicole — Thank you for this.
“This isn’t a fairy tale. We aren’t princesses being rescued by the perfect prince. But it becomes our story nonetheless. It becomes God’s story too and it becomes worth it.”
Once we know we are living God’s story, not just our own, it makes it so much easier to be faithful to the place we are, even when we can’t make sense of it all. We don’t have to anymore. He is for us. He is on our team. And He makes sense of it. Because of Him, our lives, our marriages, and even our dating relationships, have meaning and purpose.
Thank you for your words.
This is written so beautifully. I remember my experience like yours but months before the invitations were sent. Glad you and your husband understood the importance of the upcoming nuptials. I’m grateful my husband and I had our experience before getting married because it has to be so difficult to work through after.
Amen. I think you’re right — fighting can scare couples, but looking back I can see how important it was to experience an argument like this before we were married. It was part of the process of solidifying our relationship, securing our bond. Sounds weird, but really true for us.
The wounds that hurt the deepest are the attacks that are uttered deep within, that you don’t ever share with anyone. They have the ability to sit and fester and rot the knots that hold you together. It takes a great deal of strength to be able to express those, get them out in the open and then find a way to destroy them together.
I loved reading this. Thanks.
Matthew — so true, and even more strength to express them in a way that honors the other person, rather than tearing them down. It’s daily learning. Daily weight-lifting. But so worth it.
“But a few minutes later he gets up and tries again, because, well, this is the only way.”
Ally I love this
as a bonafide skeptic, the way you share your’s and Darrell’s story is for sure being used to soften my heart.
I love it, Kacie. Thank you so much for reading, and for sharing.
Allison,
Our god is a mysterious and wonderful being the way he works. Your blog is one of those web pages I stumbled across and was mesmerized by (but had no recollection of how I discovered you!) and in summary, there are no accidents.
I’m responding to this post because this is the one that left me with goosebumps and wanting to cry. My finance and I called off our wedding last year (after we had sent out invitations, I had a beautiful dress, we continuously ignored God’s guidance and I had a million dashed hopes and an enormous feeling of rejection) and we are just now (as of two Sundays ago) picking up the broken pieces and trying to piece them back together.
Thank you so much for sharing this post, I look forward to the day when I too can say ” we almost didn’t get married” as opposed to “we didn’t get married”. I have posted my blog above and you’re welcome to read the story posted “cold man feet” or”The Day I Had Been Dreading” as it better explains in some detail more of our story.
Your writing is beautiful and a gift, thank you for sharing.
Wow, Hannah. Thank you so much for sharing part of your story here. I’m so glad that my story could bless you in your season. And I’ll be praying that God will give you discernment and courage as you walk out and work out your relationship with this man.
so tender, I love it. So glad you guys got married:)
Thanks Tahlia! Me too! Excited to hang next week.
Excellent post! I’ll be honest though — I can only identify with this situation to a certain degree. My husband and I have been together for almost 7 years and married for 1.5 of those and have never had a knock-down-drag-out fight. We’re both fairly laid back… translation: we avoid conflict like the plague (me more so than him). This is okay most of the time but also means that quiet bitterness builds up and isn’t dealt with properly. These are some very dangerous waters! So although we’ve never thrown verbal punches (yet), our anger manifests itself in other ways…yikes! This issue was especially apparent after we were married. Now we’re learning to fight for our marriage by learning how to actually fight!
Suzanne, that’s such a great point. Thank you for adding that. Every person, and every couple is different but we’re all vulnerable to bitterness and frustration, however that might play itself out. I’m so grateful you shared your story!
I really needed to read this tonight. My boyfriend and I had a fight earlier. The kind you describe so eloquently above. Yelling at each other on the street, not caring who is walking by. I’ve never been in that kind of situation before. Actually yelling at someone… I have a hard time in conflict. I prefer to walk away, but I know that that isn’t healthy. Not for me, not for us. So, I yelled. Then, we talked. Which was really good, but it left me with the question of “is it supposed to be this hard?”. To sum up, it’s nice to know that we are not alone in fighting. Fighting with each other and for each other.
Ally, in a culture that seems to idealize the empty ring of “true love” (ie, infatuation) over the hard work and self-sacrifice of “unconditional love,” I applaud your honesty, courage and integrity here. So.Good. More people need to step up and tell this type of story in order to celebrate the real and lasting beauty of two imperfect, messy, predictably unpredictable persons choosing each other not just once or even twice but time and time again. Thank you for this.