Training our Kids for Marriage

Marriage intrigues me. The concept and complexity of marriage is too big to contemplate at times. I have been fascinated with the intricacies of relationships since I was a little girl, and most likely because the first adult relationship I knew intimately, my parents', was a marriage that couldn't work. I realized, before I could even verbalize it, that there is a lot about relationships that is out of our control, and that is a scary proposition. I wanted to take control of what I could, so I became an avid student of relationships and marriage, well before I did "real" research for my book.

I know that in my first grade journals, I talked about how much I "loved" one of the boys in my class, and there were games we played on the playground that simulated being married. As I got older, and into high school, I studied the way my friends' parents would interact and I started to catalog some of those traits I hoped to emulate. I am sensing relationship curiosity for all three of our children, and I am thrilled that they are comfortable enough to talk to me while still at the age that they might listen. That is why I am actively promoting "Marriage Training" for our kids. My definition of "Marriage Training" is a fostering and encouraging age-appropriate relationships with members of the opposite sex.

Humans are selfish, Anyone who has raised children knows how naturally selfish people can be. Strong relationships are grounded in selflessness and I am challenged to prepare our children for the sacrifices that will be necessary for a healthy, sustainable marriage.

That starts now. So when my nine-year old hints at the fact that he likes a girl in his class, and he knows that she likes him back, I don't discourage the relationship, I just try to positively guide it toward health.

"She asked you to go watch her dance recital?" I ask excitedly.

"Yes," he coyly responds.

"Oh, would you humor me please! I have been married to the same man for twelve years, and I don't get those fun butterflies anymore. Can you just lay the scene for me so that I can live vicariously through you?"

"Okay," he laughs, because he and I have always had fun with dramatic presentation.

He dims the lights (literally, I'm not kidding)

"So, we were in math," he somberly begins.

"Oh, I can picture it now," I lovingly mock.

"We were playing a game," he continues.

"Oh, wait, so did you ask her to play the game or did she ask you?" I interrupt with enthusiasm.

"The teacher assigned us," he said. "Anyway, we were playing the game and she told me that she danced."

"Wait, hon, you already knew that she was a dancer," I interject.

"Well, I forgot," he admitted.

"Oh, hold on there bubs! I enthusiastically wave my arms. "That is cardinal sin number one when you are into a girl! You have to know what she is into. Never, ever forget what she's into!" I beg dramatically as I lean over our breakfast bar.

He laughs, and nods in agreement.

We continue talking about how he might actually want to go watch her dance, and I agree to take him if he gets all the information.

The next day, by chance, I have an opportunity to talk with his "friend who is a girl" and her mom at a school lunch. My son had pointed them out, and before I could go up to introduce myself, the girl had approached with her mom to do it first. I am pleased with the quality kid and family with whom he wants to start a relationship, and I will do what I can to help him. For instance, I will follow him sprinting out of church so that I can catch up to her mom. My son had noticed that the entire family was at church, without his "friend who is a girl", and he wanted to find out where she was. (she was at girl scouts)

There are twinges of excitement coming from the other camp in our house too. There must be something in the air. My seven and four-year-old daughters are also interested in talking about love interests and relationships. The other night we spent some time telling "secrets" in the pop-up tent in my daughter's room. I told them that "what is said in the tent, stays in the tent" so I can't reveal all the gory details, but I will say that I am hoping to positively guide them through relationship minefields too.

I am not sure that we are ever too young to learn about healthy and appropriate relationships. I was surprised by the comment of a friend of mine who overheard my oldest talking about his dating rules (group dates seventh grade, double-dates eighth grade, parent driven dates from 9th grade until he gets his license).
She told me that she asked him, "Are you really excited about all of that?"

I am not sure how he responded, but I hope he'd say yes. The most significant relationship we will ever have in our lives is our marital relationship. We spend so much time investing in academic training, career training, and athletic training, why would we neglect the training necessary to be highly successful at marriage?

Still Healing Broken Places

THIS IS AN EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK PROPOSAL "Choosing to Grow-Through Marriage"
AS A PREFACE TO THIS PART...I AM DESCRIBING THE ANXIETY OF A TIME IN MY LIFE THAT LED TO DEEP AND CONTINUAL INTROSPECTION.


We bought a fixer-upper and my husband spent most days renovating, telecommuting for his “real” job and going to hockey practices and games. I tried to get used to the grey skies, to life with a two-year-old and a newborn, and to living in a place where I didn’t have a network of friends. My husband was happier and happier every day… and I was not. I was hormonal, sleep-deprived, lonely, frustrated and increasingly anxious. I realize all of what I felt through hindsight observation, but I really was unaware of what was happening to me at the time.

By middle of the hockey season, things were getting better for all of us. I had met some really great people and Haley was not nearly the needy newborn. Nate was coming through his terrible twos and the renovations were getting done. Then our experiment was brought to a screeching halt. It was made clear to my husband that the company ran better with him in Colorado and the request was made that we move back full-time. We were in our house only 5-months and then we had to turn around and head back. We had our moments of anger and frustration about this new reality, but our plans had revolved around his “real” job and we weren’t ready to risk that for our family of four. Hockey wasn’t going to be able to foot the bill, so we put the house up for sale, loaded up the cars, and started back.

I’m sure both my husband and I struggled separately with the emotions we held because of the forced change of plans, but we really didn’t talk as much about it as we did about other things. We simply resigned ourselves to yet another reality and we got so caught up in the details of the move back that we didn’t have time to grasp what we were feeling about it. That drive back was hard for a number of reasons, but most pointedly was the fact that I rolled my car just outside of Des Moines, IA.

It was really icy because a wet snow storm had just blown through and the temperatures dropped quickly just after. We were caravanning, and for a while I had both the kids in my car. We stopped for dinner in Des Moines, and the decision was made to move Nate to his dad’s truck so that he could watch a movie. Seven-month old Haley was going to go to sleep and I had planned to listen to a book on tape. So with Pudge in the lead on I-80, I followed behind with my car in cruise control and Haley quickly dozed off in the seat directly behind me. I could tell that the roads were starting to get slick so I tapped the brakes to disable the cruise and slowed just a little. We started up a slight incline and the back of Pudge’s truck did a fishtail. As I accelerated to make the hill, in that same spot, I felt the ice take control of the back wheels of my car and then as I started into a 360-degree spin toward the shoulder I realized there was nothing I could do.

I hit the grass just off the right shoulder with my back wheels first, but I was coming in sideways. Everything caught once I was off the ice, and I saw the ground come up to meet the windshield. The windshield shattered and the crunch of the frame of the car was instantaneous and terrifying. We rolled once and landed at the bottom of a hill, perpendicular to the highway, on the wheels, and with the engine still running. I couldn’t see the highway where my husband had been, and I didn’t know that he had seen my lights disappear off the shoulder in his rearview mirror. I reached for my cell phone, and simultaneously heard Haley crying in the back. I was relieved to hear her before I even had a moment to wonder about her. I jumped out of the car, phone in hand, oblivious to the freezing temperatures. I threw open Haley’s door and after merely glancing at the crushed and mangled side where Nate had been sitting, I snatched Haley out of her seat and pulled her tight to me. I stared in shock at the tv/vcr that had flown from the back of the car and had landed in the seat next to Haley’s backward-facing car seat.

I think I was trying to dial my husband when I realized that someone was yelling at me from the road. A car had pulled over and asked to help. Dazed by what was happening, I muttered something incoherent and then saw the reverse lights of my husband’s truck. He was backing up on the shoulder and I didn’t need the help of the person who had stopped. Everything was happening in exaggerated slow motion during the crash and I let down my guard a little when I saw Pudge. Before I knew it, he was ushering me through the grass to the warmth of his truck.

He put me in the driver’s seat, handed me his cell phone and said, “Tell them where we are and that you just had an accident.” He then ran back to the car to get some of our things out.

Haley was loaded in next to Nate, who thankfully had no clue what was going on, and I heard a woman talking to me saying, very matter-of-factly, “Ma’am, now where are you?”

Literally, I was between mile-markers on the side of a dark highway and I squinted to see the De Soto sign several hundreds of feet in front of me. But figuratively, I was at a major turning point in my life…I just didn’t know it yet.

I Love You For All My Heart

Our Valentine's Day was last Tuesday. Yes, I live in the United States, and just like most people, the calendars in our house argue that February 14th is the actual day of the holiday, but for my husband and I, Valentine's Day was last Tuesday, February 9th.

As usual, we didn't exchange cards, candies or gifts, but rather, as a wonderful present, my husband called for a sitter, made the dinner reservations and surprised me with a date. It has only taken him twelve years to catch on to what sorts of things really seem romantic to me, and I am so happy that he has never given up on working at it.

We had no problem getting a reservation and the evening was quiet and romantic. The movie theatre was nearly empty and my husband joked that he rented it out just for us. He said that as a courtesy, he agreed to let those other three people sit in on our special movie date. We had a great time, and I was quickly reminded why I work through those occasional frustrations to keep loving this man. It is good for my heart.

It is through loving him that my heart is rewarded. It struck me when our littlest hugged me with her valentine the other day and said, "I love you for all my heart mom!" It was an innocent miscue, but when I really reflected on how the changing of that one little word changed the meaning so entirely, I realized how the rewording better explains what happens because of intimate relationships. I think it is not an accident that loving others can be so enjoyable for the one doing the loving.

Sure, we love people because we want to make them feel good, or they are an important relationship in our lives that we want to keep, but I think we often forget how loving someone pays such amazing dividends for our own hearts. Loving people makes us feel great. In one of the books that I read for my Choosing to Grow book research, there is an argument about how doing for others creates more genuine happiness. Isn't that really just an example of how loving others is good for our own hearts? Studies suggest that charitable activities bring more joy to peoples' lives than money, and from personal experience I concur with that conclusion.

I love my husband because he makes me laugh, he challenges my thinking, he is an unbelievable father to our children, he dreams big with me, he is dependable, he is talented, he makes me proud to stand next to him, he makes a difference in the lives he touches and when it is occasionally hard to love him, I just need to remember that loving him is for my heart too.