Love… is not irratable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
~1 Cor. 13:5-7
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This letter is a bit personal, so I’ll write a little more quietly today. Ten years ago, you could have left. You forced a confession from me and I watched you break and scatter across the bedroom floor. That’s all I will say about it for now, but in those following days and weeks, I thought that I had undone something. I thought that I had dissolved our young marriage.
You endured through the worst of those early days, and you didn’t leave. Instead, you poured grace into me; you held tightly. And if love endures all things, then that’s the moment I knew you loved me.
We’ve both buried hatchets now, both found opportunities to forgive. But in the confession and forgiveness I’ve watched you walk without a hint of irritation or resentfulness. I’ve watched you cast my wrongs across compass dials; you’ve burned the records of wrongs like pioneer ships.
The quality of your grace and forgiveness speaks volumes. And that’s how I know you love me still.
I’m glad that you’re home,
* * * * *
Every Monday, Amber and I, along with Joy and Scott Bennett, and others, write Marriage Letters. It is an effort to encourage others to fight the good fight, to do the hard work. Did you write one this week? Visit Amber’s blog to link it. This week’s topic–I know you love me when/I knew you loved me when.
Short, sweet…and sacred.
Thank you dear lady. I hope all is well and you are eating many schnitzels… or brats… or kraut… or, whatever it is they eat in your neck of the woods.
This reminds me that there is always hope where there is love.
Always hope… good word.
Glad you two are still on the love boat…and that last line – ‘I’m glad you’re home’ – I felt every clack of the keys on that one, chief…that’s a line that speaks volumes as well.
Thank you brother. And though you had no way to know this, “chief” was a nickname of mine in high school.
You and that wife of yours – with your dueling banjo keyboards – are making sweet music with these stories. So glad for this thing you’ve started …
That’s high praise from one who knows how to write a good sentence. Thanks for leaving two cents here.
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Beautiful. Extended forgiveness and grace – the key to any good marriage with roots that go deep. And thank you for these letters that expose intimacy, they give me the courage to do the same and then talk about them with my readers over soup.
That’s really what it’s all about. If we write these things and they merely hover around a cyber world, they’re really not much good. I love that you’re writing your own pieces and talking them out with folks in real life. That’s where the real work happens.
Thanks for stopping by.
It’s huge to forgive and even moreso to forget, and I get the sense from reading both of you: you’ve forgotten everything except that which is worth remembering. Thanks to both of you for your transparency.