What is the crucial ingredient you need to make a marriage work? In the summer of 1975, I found out.
Bob and I had known each other for nearly six years. We had dated exclusively for over a year and I sensed we were moving toward marriage. That summer, I took the eight-week “Europe on $10 a Day” tour with two girlfriends—Karen and Jan. I was sure when I got back, Bob would pop the question.
This was BCP– before cell phones. The first stop in each new city was the Western Union office where I picked up and devoured the stack of letters Bob had written each day.
My far-left-brained boyfriend recounted the events of each day—failed cockroach fumigations, his trip to a friend’s wedding, the sticking Rs on his typewriter—symptoms experienced and insights gained from an eight-day fast as he asked God about our future. I was thrilled as he told me how much he missed me and that I should save August 31—the day after I returned—for him.
I was in Paris when “the letter” came. “God showed me that I was wrong in bringing up the topic of marriage at this time. It was premature.” He went on to say that his commitment to me and to our relationship was stronger than ever. I never doubted that he loved me. But I had been like a bullet train, headed down the track—and I’d just been derailed by a comet hurtling unexpectedly through space. Bob’s letter was accompanied by an article on “Pursuing Love.” One sentence stood out to me: “If you really love someone, you will want their best—even if it means they marry someone else.”
It didn’t take Karen and Jan too long to notice my mood change. “I think we should go back to the hotel and talk,” Jan announced after church. “Okay,” I said. I figured if she needed to talk, we should talk. I don’t know why I was surprised that I was the one who needed to talk.
“Tell me why you think you should marry Bob.” Jan sat across the room from me and wrote my answers on a tablet. “Well, I think I would be happier.” “I would feel more secure.” After a few more reasons, I began noticing they all started with “I.”
It was a wet week in Paris—not because it rained, but because I rained. I made a long-distance call to Bob just to hear his voice. I knew from his tone that his love for me had not waned. I spent a lot of time praying over the next month or so. I prayed until I knew I could honestly say I loved Bob so much I wanted his happiness above my own—even if that meant he should marry someone else.
Looking back, I believe my change of heart was what God was waiting for. I had to come to a point where I loved Bob more than I loved me. Our marriage wouldn’t have been any good until I reached that level of maturity. No marriage is any good until the partners love each other more than they love themselves.
When I returned from Europe, Bob was waiting at the airport. As we had planned, we spent August 31st together. It was weird. Despite my emotional rollercoaster, we picked up right where we left off. We dated through the Summer and Fall and into Winter.
I was in my second year of teaching high school English. Christmas vacation is when high school English teachers grade two-foot-high stacks of term papers. Bob came over to cheer me up and give me a break. About mid-afternoon, I retrieved something from the other room. When I came back to the living room, he was holding a piece of lined paper that he had taken out of my Bible. “Look what I found,” he said innocently. It was the paper on which Jan had written my reasons for wanting to marry him.
I don’t know why it hit me so wrong. It’s not that I hadn’t told him about the Sunday-morning session in the hotel. But now my heart was on that piece of paper–completely exposed—naked—vulnerable. I started to cry—no, sob. I couldn’t stop. Bob had no idea what could possibly be wrong. I’m not sure he ever fully understood, but he listened, and held me, and let me cry it out.
He also made a decision to tell me something he had known for a couple of months. He hadn’t planned to tell me then, but under the circumstances, he thought he should. “One Saturday in October, I sat up in bed and I just knew it was okay for us to make marriage plans.” I stopped sobbing immediately! I am convinced God gave Bob peace only once my heart was right.
Bob is logical and practical and there were still a few things he wanted to put in place before he proposed. He held a paid chaplaincy position for his fraternity and he wanted to make sure he found a suitable replacement before he left. He was applying to law schools and he wanted to have his acceptance in hand so he could let me know where we would be living. And, he owned two cars. He needed to sell one so he could buy me a ring.
Over the next two months, the rollercoaster started up the hill once again. Bob secured his replacement. He was accepted by a law school in Sacramento. And he sold the car. When he picked me up for a date on February 21st, I was pretty sure I knew what was coming. This time, I was right.
It was a difficult few months, but the crucial lesson learned was worth it. Can you honestly say you love your partner more than you love yourself? Take a moment to ask God if you do. Ask Him if you have areas that you love yourself more and what they are.
When you love your partner more, you no longer have to “protect your territory.” It’s amazing how much friction ceases when your goal is meeting your mate’s needs. And, it is likely you will experience the beauty of your mate reaching back to meet your needs as well.
