The Midlife Marriage Swamp

 

As the hart panteth after the water brooks,

so panteth my soul after thee, O God.

                                    -- Psalm 42:1

 

            Like most middle-aged married couples, we're still teammates, on the same playbook page, still expecting to cross over the end zone of life together, spike the ball, and do an exuberant waggle.

 

            But lately, we'd been outyarded and outgained by the cares and stresses of life. Our helmets were dented, our jerseys were torn, and our shoelaces were untied.

 

            Don't worry: there was no unnecessary roughness, no late hits, no talk in the huddle about The Big D -- Divorce. We had simply hit midlife: time to tweak the game plan, retape our sore spots, and get some spiritual Gatorade.

 

            So we staggered into a special kind of locker room for a halftime pep talk from some gifted coaches.

 

            It was a Christian-based marriage workshop with several other couples at a mountain retreat in northern Georgia. It was stupendous - life-changing - and it involved lots of Southern cooking, from sweet tea to cream pie. Ahhhh! We came out of the experience more in love with each other and with God than ever before.

 

            But before we got there, I was petrified. I sat in our hotel room in northern Atlanta, alone in the early evening quiet under rain-threatening skies.

 

            God! Oh, God! What was I getting myself in to? Couldn't we just do this on the phone? My throat tightened with anxiety.

 

            Would they make me spill my guts? Would they think I was a rotten wife? Would they tsk-tsk? Worse: would they laugh?

 

            I started to freak out. How could these complete strangers understand us, if we couldn't?

 

            My spouse came into the room. I'm not proud of it, but I began to cry.

 

            The view from our fourth-story window was a dense, green swamp. A scummy pond meandered through thick bushes and stunted trees. The water was clear in a few places, and there were gorgeous white lilies here and there. But overall, it was a tangled, dense, sticky, swampy mess.

 

            Just like our marriage.

 

            I cried some more. We were stuck. Where was the way out? Even if we could see it, could we get there? Or would one or both of us stay stuck, struggling and thrashing?

 

            Before our eyes, a beautiful doe appeared out of nowhere. She picked her way past the bushes to the water's edge, lowering her graceful neck and delicately drinking from the pond. I held my breath, as if I would scare her away, all the way up in that hotel room, looking down.

 

            I've always associated being a Christian with being like a deer. Many times, I've thirsted after a word from God in the Bible, the way a deer far from home might thirst after fresh water in a big, dark, scary forest. A gold deer necklace that my dad gave to me and all the other women in our family one Christmas is one of my favorites. I've had several transcendent experiences in my life that have involved beautiful, admirable deer. So when I saw this one, with both of us far from home and out of place, in urban Atlanta, I knew she was sent from God just for me.

 

The humidity gave way to a gentle rain. Plop! Plop! The little ripples in the pond . . . the peace and stillness all around . . . the beauty of the deer . . . and slowly, I relaxed. Just as suddenly, with a flick of her white flag-like tail, she was gone.

 

            A white flag: just like the one I needed to wave. Let go . . . and let God.

 

            She hadn't gotten mired. She hadn't made a scene. She just got what she needed, and moved on.

 

            So would we. God had brought us this far. He would see us through.

 

            Fear and confusion were no match for our love and our Lord's desire to lead us out of the swamp of midlife marital "stuff." He'd restore the joy and fulfillment He'd planned for us from the moment we spoke our vows before His altar.

 

            And that's exactly what happened. The swamp is behind us now. We're in the clear.

 

            The retreat grounds were crawling with deer, and that put me at ease right off the bat. Those "strangers" were so loving, understanding and insightful, they helped us see how we were missing the mark, yet left us feeling good about ourselves and our marriage, better than we have in years. Confusion is gone; hope and excitement are back.

 

            We went in there like lowdown swamp rats. We left feeling like an intrepid buck and a graceful doe.

 

            That's what happens when you trust the One who holds marriage so "deer" . . . and guides you along the trail, every step of the way. †