Category: 2nd Marriage

‘My lover is mine, and I am his. He browses among the lilies.’ Song of Songs 2:16(NLT)

‘So again I say, each man must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.’ Ephesians 5:33(NLT)

‘Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But someone who falls alone is in real trouble. Likewise, two people lying close together can keep each other warm. But how can one be warm alone? A person standing alone can be attacked and defeated, but two can stand back-to-back and conquer. Three are even better, for a triple-braided cord is not easily broken.’ Ecclesiastes 4:9-12(NLT)

It started out with a YouTube video. 

A woman was turning a watermelon into a cake, covering the chilled fruit with a skin of icing.

I said, “There’s watermelon in the garden.”

My husband, Randy, said, “They’re probably not ripe.”

We got up anyway and put on our shoes. Randy used the light on his phone to guide us across the wet yard, but it was barely necessary: the stars were so clear, they shone like beacons.

In the garden, we worked our way around the sprawling vines and selected the largest North Carolina. My husband twisted it off the vine and then dropped it. The fruit tumbled downhill, and we laughed like teenagers.

He gathered the watermelon again, and we trudged back up to the farmhouse. Everything dark and silent, our girls asleep.

We kicked off our muddy shoes at the door and walked into the kitchen. Randy withdrew a knife from the stand and sank it into the rind. It didn’t split with a satisfying pop.

Instead, the watermelon gradually broke open, and we could see the soft pink flesh stippled with black seeds. We smiled as the sticky juice covered the countertop. I took half of the watermelon and used a spoon to eat the heart. He took a spoon and ate the heart out of his.

It wasn’t ripe. It was barely even sweet. We didn’t care. The magic wasn’t in the acquiring but in that moment. Each second was a gift that had almost been stolen from us, and from our girls, because of my husband’s emergency brain surgery, so we cherished its sacred restoration.

My husband and I wiped the juice from our mouths, and I gathered the watermelon pieces and stacked them against my chest. I put on my shoes again, crossed the yard, and walked down to the chicken coop.

Opening the gate, I set the watermelon in the run, a treat for my ornery chickens in the morning. And then I walked back up to the darkened farmhouse, where my two young daughters were sleeping and my husband would sleep soon, next to me.

My eyes brimmed with gratitude, and I prayed that I would hold each moment in my hands and in my heart, always remembering that each second is a gift, pouring through the hourglass of this blessed, fleeting life.

Conversation Starter: Have you and your spouse ever walked through a trial? How did you find your way back to each other again when it was over? Did you feel like he/she had changed?

Getting Started: Sit on the couch and look through your wedding photos together or watch the video from your ceremony. If feeling especially adventurous, rewrite your vows while including the highlights—and lowlights—you have experienced in your years together. (“For colicky babies and sleepless nights, etc.”)

from Marriage: Handle With Care

‘Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. ‘ Philippians 4:6(NLT)

‘Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.’ Isaiah 41:10(NLT)

‘Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you.’ 1 Peter 5:7(NLT)

My boots sank into the slush covering the dirt road. My four-month-old nestled against me, bundled between my overalls and a wool sweater that made me feel like a native to the cold. 

But it wasn’t cold; it was a mild 43 degrees. I wore no Cuddl Duds, no gloves, no hat. 

Three months ago, when we moved during Wisconsin’s harshest November since 1898, I would have rejoiced to have a respite like this. 

And yet, over the past month since my husband’s brain surgery, I had barely noticed the weather. Instead, I had focused on surviving. Putting one foot in front of the other. Counting my blessings, though that rote phrase made me want to grit my teeth. 

The morning after Randy’s horrific pincushion spinal tap, which the neurosurgeon performed to check for infection, I said to my husband’s prone form, “There has to be a break in the clouds. It has to get better than this.”

And it did.

I could have wept while walking those slush-covered dirt roads because—one month after I thought I might lose my husband—he was not only alive, but well.

His incision was healing; his hair growing back; his energy and orneriness simultaneously returning, so that he told me, “I’m really going to tear it up,” to see the alarm on my face.

I was not widowed at twenty-eight. I still had someone who could help me run our solar-powered farm, replete with its temperamental windmill and quirks. 

More importantly, my daughters still had a father, and I was still a wife. 

I once took these factors for granted because I knew my husband would never leave; I never considered he could be taken from me.

Then, life and death faced off, and suddenly time was precious. Everything was precious. 

I was aware, though, of human nature and that, with our return to normality, we would soon return to our more “efficient” usage of time. 

I viewed this frailty firsthand, as my toddler daughter stood in front of the sink, splashing in the bubbles after washing her hands.

“I don’t have time for this,” I snapped. 

And then I stopped, stared at my startled reflection in the mirror, and reminded myself that I did have time for this. 

I had all the time in the world. 

Conversation Starter: How do you find the balance between being present and being productive? Have you ever experienced a trial that realigned your priorities as a couple? How did that experience change your perspective on time?

Getting Started: Write down a list of your priorities—from greatest to least. The next day, chart how much time you give to those priorities. Does the time you give match your priority list?

from Marriage: Handle With Care

‘Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom.’ Psalms 90:12(NLT)

‘For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest. A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to build up. A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance. A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones. A time to embrace and a time to turn away. A time to search and a time to quit searching. A time to keep and a time to throw away. A time to tear and a time to mend. A time to be quiet and a time to speak. A time to love and a time to hate. A time for war and a time for peace.’ Ecclesiastes 3:1-8(NLT)

‘Look here, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we are going to a certain town and will stay there a year. We will do business there and make a profit.” How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone. What you ought to say is, “If the Lord wants us to, we will live and do this or that.” Otherwise you are boasting about your own pretentious plans, and all such boasting is evil. Remember, it is sin to know what you ought to do and then not do it.’ James 4:13-17(NLT)

My boots sank into the slush covering the dirt road. My four-month-old nestled against me, bundled between my overalls and a wool sweater that made me feel like a native to the cold. 

But it wasn’t cold; it was a mild 43 degrees. I wore no Cuddl Duds, no gloves, no hat. 

Three months ago, when we moved during Wisconsin’s harshest November since 1898, I would have rejoiced to have a respite like this. 

And yet, over the past month since my husband’s brain surgery, I had barely noticed the weather. Instead, I had focused on surviving. Putting one foot in front of the other. Counting my blessings, though that rote phrase made me want to grit my teeth. 

The morning after Randy’s horrific pincushion spinal tap, which the neurosurgeon performed to check for infection, I said to my husband’s prone form, “There has to be a break in the clouds. It has to get better than this.”

And it did.

I could have wept while walking those slush-covered dirt roads because—one month after I thought I might lose my husband—he was not only alive, but well.

His incision was healing; his hair growing back; his energy and orneriness simultaneously returning, so that he told me, “I’m really going to tear it up,” to see the alarm on my face.

I was not widowed at twenty-eight. I still had someone who could help me run our solar-powered farm, replete with its temperamental windmill and quirks. 

More importantly, my daughters still had a father, and I was still a wife. 

I once took these factors for granted because I knew my husband would never leave; I never considered he could be taken from me.

Then, life and death faced off, and suddenly time was precious. Everything was precious. 

I was aware, though, of human nature and that, with our return to normality, we would soon return to our more “efficient” usage of time. 

I viewed this frailty firsthand, as my toddler daughter stood in front of the sink, splashing in the bubbles after washing her hands.

“I don’t have time for this,” I snapped. 

And then I stopped, stared at my startled reflection in the mirror, and reminded myself that I did have time for this. 

I had all the time in the world. 

Conversation Starter: How do you find the balance between being present and being productive? Have you ever experienced a trial that realigned your priorities as a couple? How did that experience change your perspective on time?

Getting Started: Write down a list of your priorities—from greatest to least. The next day, chart how much time you give to those priorities. Does the time you give match your priority list?

from Marriage: Handle With Care

‘So be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid and do not panic before them. For the Lord your God will personally go ahead of you. He will neither fail you nor abandon you.”’ Deuteronomy 31:6(NLT)

‘This is my command—be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”’ Joshua 1:9(NLT)

‘God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble. So we will not fear when earthquakes come and the mountains crumble into the sea. Let the oceans roar and foam. Let the mountains tremble as the waters surge! Interlude’ Psalms 46:1-3(NLT)

Randy and I sat across from each other—our sick four-month-old in my lap, our sick toddler having a meltdown in the living room, a delicious meal before us I had not prepared. 

My husband—his hair still shorn from his emergency brain surgery only weeks before—looked so unlike the protector I had known and loved that I had to fight back tears. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I am sorry life’s so hard.”

He swallowed. “I’m sorry, too.”

By sheer willpower alone, we got our girls to bed. Randy put a pallet of blankets on our toddler’s floor, so he could be there in case she had another bad spell of the croup during the night. 

“Let me sleep there,” I insisted. “You’re still recovering.”

“I won’t be able to sleep at all if I can’t hear her.”

I nodded and tiptoed back downstairs. I pressed my fingertips to the table where we’d sat and stared through the window into the snowy darkness as if I could see directly into the face of God. 

I could feel the tension coiled in my spinal column, though my shoulders were weighted with fatigue. “You must meet us here,” I said. “You must meet us here.” 

I prayed this over and over, my voice both plea and command. I interceded for our family for a few more minutes and then stretched out across the bed in the playroom, too tired to cry. 

It was no small miracle our girls didn’t have coughing spells during the night, allowing our family to get a decent night’s rest for the first time since Randy’s emergency brain surgery. 

Over breakfast, I told him the previous night was the lowest point I’d ever reached. 

He said it was the same for him. We’d walked through trials before, but we’d never walked through anything like this.

Then I recalled that unusual passage in Ezekiel 37, where God breathes life into an army of old bones, making them walk again:

“‘I will put breath into you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord.’”

The two weeks after surgery had stripped us down to the very bones of who we were, yet I prayed that once this stripping had taken place, our skin—and our very breath—would be a closer representation of the heart of God.

Conversation Starter: Have you ever walked through a valley? How did that experience change you as a couple?

Getting Started: Write down a list of the hard things you and your spouse have walked through together. Write down a list of the good things. Which ones drew you closer?

from Marriage: Handle With Care

‘This is my commandment: Love each other in the same way I have loved you. ‘ John 15:12(NLT)

‘Live a life filled with love, following the example of Christ. He loved us and offered himself as a sacrifice for us, a pleasing aroma to God.’ Ephesians 5:2(NLT)

‘For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve others and to give his life as a ransom for many.”’ Mark 10:45(NLT)

 For Christmas, my mom gave my daughter an illustrated version of “The Gift of the Magi.” 

The cover illustration of the husband and wife clinging to one another, after they had each sacrificed their most treasured possession, took my breath away. 

When we returned to Wisconsin after our short trip to visit family in Tennessee, I placed this book on top of our refrigerator. 

I was struggling with homesickness and wanted that picture to be a reminder of the beauty of sacrificial love and of fulfilling Randy’s dream to be in Wisconsin, even if that meant living away from our family.

We were home for two days when I received the call. My husband was being rushed to La Crosse by ambulance because a CAT scan revealed severe pressure on his brain. What I didn’t know then was that in the coming days, he would have an emergency craniotomy to remove a benign tumor, and our lives would be turned upside down. 

Adrenaline pumped like serum as I tossed his clothing and mine into the suitcase I had just unpacked and checked the freezer to see if I had enough milk stored to sustain our four-month-old during our indeterminate stay. 

My husband’s aunt arrived within ten minutes, and she lived ten minutes away. My husband’s cousin stowed my bags in his car as our three-year-old clung to my legs.

Choking back tears, I kissed her gold-brown curls, not knowing if I was going to bring her daddy back home. 

Really, not knowing anything. 

Hours later, I knelt beside my husband’s hospital bed, trying to brace myself for the worst. 

“I’m so glad I married you,” I whispered, and then rose to prepare myself for his surgery that morning.

#

Three days later, I brought him home to our daughters—that threshold-crossing moment paling every Technicolor joy. 

I wept as he walked through the house. Later, I wept as I lay beside him. 

“What would’ve you done?” he asked. “We’re not even settled. Everything’s still a mess.”

“I’m stronger than I look,” I said, wiping tears. 

“I would’ve wanted to be buried in Tennessee,” he whispered, crying too. “You would’ve been close to me there.”

I laughed. “I was going to bury you in Wisconsin. On your grandma’s farm. Your happiest place on earth.”

“I knew you’d do that,” he said, touching my hair. 

I clung to him, my husband returned, and remembered the illustrated copy of “The Gift of the Magi” on top of our refrigerator: a reminder that the greatest gift of all is, indeed, sacrificial love. 

Conversation Starter: How have you put your spouse’s needs before your own? How has your spouse put your needs before his/hers?

Getting Started: Find three different ways you can make a “sacrifice” for your spouse: the gift of time (give him/her a break from the kids), an act of service (folding laundry/mowing the yard), and a thoughtful item that he/she really wanted but you didn’t think was necessary.

from Marriage: Handle With Care

‘But the Lord said to Samuel, “Don’t judge by his appearance or height, for I have rejected him. The Lord doesn’t see things the way you see them. People judge by outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”’ 1 Samuel 16:7(NLT)

‘Rejoice in our confident hope. Be patient in trouble, and keep on praying. ‘ Romans 12:12(NLT)

‘You blind Pharisee! First wash the inside of the cup and the dish, and then the outside will become clean, too.’ Matthew 23:26(NLT)

Peering out the window, I stared at our barn, which appeared like the skeleton of a great beast, marooned on our snowy shore. I asked my husband, Randy, if the structure would continue standing once its outer support was removed. 

“Yes,” he said, then explained that the interior framing supported the structure, not the old, weathered boards visible on the outside, and it would continue standing until my husband could pick up barn boards from our Amish neighbor and replace the old boards with new.

I went outside later that morning—my three-month-old daughter strapped to my chest in her oversize snowsuit—and saw this stripped-down barn. I had my cousin’s fancy camera hanging around my neck, and I cupped both the lens and my daughter’s head as I minced across the ice in my tennis shoes. 

I needed to snap some photos of our farm to send along with an article. But as I took the photos, I found myself inwardly grumbling: the former owner needed to get his mower; there was an empty stack of totes on the front porch that needed to be moved to the barn; the shipping containers were eyesores.

My mood, I’m ashamed to say, did not improve. Randy was leaving for La Crosse around noon. Before he left, he noticed I was assaulting the towels as I slung them over the laundry rack.

He asked, “Why are you mad at me?” 

I slung another towel. “Because I feel like nothing’s getting done!”

He said, “Things are getting done. Everything just can’t get done at once.”

I sighed and released my grip on the towel. “I’ll try to be more patient.” 

He sighed, too, and leaned down for a kiss. “Just try not to get so overwhelmed.”

After Randy left, I mentally retraced my morning walk. Why had the totes on the porch bothered me? Why had I wanted to edit out the wrinkles, the red eyes, and the menagerie of toys taking over the countertop? 

It’s because I wanted everyone to think we live a picture-perfect life. But the barn—standing strong with no exterior boards—reminded me that the exterior is not what gives a structure solidity: it’s the strength of the interior that counts. 

Conversation Starter:

Name two ways you can work on your marriage’s structure. Does social media strengthen that structure or tear it down? 

Getting Started: 

1. Every time you find yourself criticizing your spouse (even mentally), put a dollar in a jar. 

2. When you have fifty dollars, go on a date. But leave your phones behind.

3. Use the last hour before bed to reconnect with your spouse.

from Marriage: Handle With Care

‘Therefore I, a prisoner for serving the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of your calling, for you have been called by God. Always be humble and gentle. Be patient with each other, making allowance for each other’s faults because of your love. Make every effort to keep yourselves united in the Spirit, binding yourselves together with peace. ‘ Ephesians 4:1-3(NLT)

‘Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds us all together in perfect harmony. ‘ Colossians 3:14(NLT)

‘There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. ‘ John 15:13(NLT)

My husband, Randy, and my father-in-law were outside, jacking up the shipping container holding our possessions, when I heard the crash.

I stood in the closet, knowing I would soon learn if my husband or father-in-law had been under the container when its weight obliterated the cinder blocks beneath it.

After five minutes, when no one came rushing in, I went outside and saw the heavier end of the shipping container had dropped five feet. 

I gave Randy a once-over to make sure all his dusty extremities were intact, and then it hit me: my beautiful mirrors and paintings, which I had accumulated over the last six years, were in that shipping container. 

And it had dropped five feet.

“I’m done,” I murmured to no one, stalking back inside. “I’m just done.”

Searching for some privacy to nurse our newborn, I went upstairs, and my toddler followed. I feared she would start fussing once she saw her toys were packed, but I was just too tired to care. 

But she didn’t say anything. She didn’t even frown.

Instead, she picked up a wilted balloon from our nephew’s birthday party. She found a party hat that had lost its staple. She donned the hat and picked up the balloon and carried it around like a trophy. 

Tears filled my eyes.

My toddler, whose age alone warranted tantrums my age did not, wasn’t upset about the fact that all her worldly possessions were packed away. 

Faith alone wasn’t the only way I needed to be more like my child; I also needed her flexibility.

Randy had been working around the clock to get our family prepared for our move to Wisconsin—even saying I would only have to hop in the van when it was time to leave. And here I begrudged him because one of his projects hadn’t gone according to plan.

Had he ever begrudged me?

Never. He’d only offered me never-ending support. So I would handle our marriage with the same care I’d given those “priceless” pieces of clearance art.

Conversation Starter: Talk about a time in your marriage when you had to extend grace to your spouse the way grace had been extended to you. What did you learn from that experience?

Getting Started: Make a list of the ways your spouse has extended grace to you. Make a list of the ways you can extend grace to him/her.

from Marriage: Handle With Care