by Chris Fabry
“I thought we had lost you,” he said.
“I thought the same about you. What happened?”
“You were right about taking County Line. I never should have chanced it. It was too slick. A truck broadsided us. Your side took the brunt.”
“I remember the truck. But then I woke up and you weren’t there. I got out of the car and tried to find you. And then I tripped over a rock … but it wasn’t a rock …”
His brow furrowed, he leaned closer and spoke gently. “It’s mixed up in your head. The truck driver came back for us. He pulled me out, but you were wedged into your seat. The paramedics had to get you out. And it took them a while just to get there. Do you remember any of it?”
I looked at the bedspread and the IV in my arm. “It was so real.”
“What was?”
“The snow. I climbed up a hillside to this house—it was a retreat center. There was an old man inside, waiting for me.”
He smiled and took my hand. “No, I’m sorry, Marlee. You never left the car on your own—you had help from the paramedics and a stretcher.”
“Jacob, something has happened. I don’t think I can fully explain it, but it’s like I’ve been given a gift.”
“Same here,” he said with more compassion than usual. “Just having you awake on Christmas is a present for the kids. For all of us.”
“We didn’t sign the papers, did we? We never made it to the lawyer, right?”
“No. But he still has everything ready. What? Why are you giving me that look?”
“I have a question. Remember the marriage conference we went to a while ago? The one at the church.”
He named the speaker and the title of the weekend.
“That’s it. They had a conference notebook. Do you remember it?”
“Marlee, you need to rest.”
I sat up. “No, this is important. Stay with me. There was a conference notebook; we were supposed to take notes, write some things in there. Do you remember it?”
He nodded.
“You wrote something down during one of the sessions. Just one thing. What was it?”
“That was years ago.”
“Jacob, what did you write?”
He looked outside and then at his feet. He rubbed his hands and then looked at me with those blue eyes. “It was something the speaker said. ‘Marriage is worth fighting for.’”
Silence between us. He sat in the chair and I searched his face.
“I know we agreed the divorce would be the best thing for us and the kids,” I said. “But I’m wondering if we could give it one more try?”
His eyebrows went up and lines formed on his forehead, which he winced through, as he sat on the chair beside the bed. “You really did get knocked in the head.”
“It’s called a percussion.” I smiled. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“No, it’s just such a change. Like a Green Bay fan rooting for the Bears all of a sudden.”
“Something strange happened to me last night. I need to sort it out in my head and then I’ll tell you about it.”
He patted my hand. “Sure. We can do that. What about the apartment I’ve rented? What about me moving out?”
“I don’t think you should. Unless you want to. Unless you feel like you can’t stay any longer.”
He glanced out the window and I looked too, at the snow, swirling in the wind of a Christmas morning. The sun cast a golden glow off the surface of the white blanket that covered everything.
“You want to know the truth?” he said. “Having you back with us, after watching the ambulance take you away and not knowing what was wrong—not knowing if you were okay or if you were going to make it—made me do some thinking of my own.”
I searched his eyes and in that moment saw Jay, his older, mature self. “Thinking about what?”
“Us. Me. The things I’ve done to retreat from you.” His chest sank a little. “You know … the dance we do to keep the distance. To cut out communication and sharing our lives. So much of the time we focus on the kids and what it might do to them.” He paused. “But I have to tell you, I know my life won’t be the same if we split up.”
I sat up quickly, too quickly, and nearly pulled out the IV. “Let me ask you this.”
“Careful, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
“If you could change one little thing about our family, not a big, huge change, just one small thing, one small regret, what would it be?”
Jacob wrapped both hands around mine and lowered his head, tucking it between his outstretched arms. “There are so many.”
“Just one. What was the first thing that came to your mind?”
“It’s probably the pet thing the kids talk about. I’d let them have a dog.”
I sat back with my head on the pillow, closed my eyes, and a tear leaked out.
“What? Did I say something wrong?”
I shook my head. “No. That was a wonderful answer. Really … wonderful.”
“What about you?” he said.
“I have a million regrets,” I said. “I’ve never told you how much I appreciate how hard you work for us … I don’t thank you for providing. Most of the time I’m just crabbing about your hours.” I sighed. “Or maybe it’s how I look at you. I see your faults instead of the real you—who you’re becoming … I always thought you were the one who needed to change and then I’d be happy. For the first time I’m able to see myself.”
He looked shocked. “Wow. That’s a lot better than letting the kids have a dog.”
I laughed. “No. It’s just the truth.”
His expression turned grim. “To be honest though, it’s been a long, cold season for us. I don’t have a lot of hope.”
“That’s okay,” I heard myself say. “You can hold on to mine.”
I looked into the eyes of the man I had begun the journey with so long ago; the mistakes, the choices, the life lived over twenty years.
“I’ve been thinking about the future.” I took a deep breath. “And I think it looks better with us together.”
“Even with my driving?”
“Yeah. And I’m glad you took the shortcut. We might have made it to the lawyer if you hadn’t.”
“Maybe one day you’ll regret that.”
“I don’t think so.”
He held my gaze and that warm feeling coursed through me, enveloping me. “All right. Then let’s try to work together. Let’s make something good happen.”
The kids were at the door.
“I think we already did,” I said, staring at the cowlick in David’s hair. “We just need to fight. Not with each other, but to stay together. Do whatever it takes.”
“It may take some time.”
“We have time. And I’ve learned a good fire can do wonders.”
Jacob slid into the bed beside me. One by one the kids ran through the door and hopped up on the foot of the bed.
Outside the snow fell harder. Choices descending like grace. The scene felt like a beginning. Imperfect people unwrapping the perfect gift. It was here I learned there is no barren place on earth that love cannot grow a garden.
Not even your heart.
Afterword
“When do we tell the children?”
As a marriage counselor, those six words grab my heart. I hope they grab yours as well. Couples are making decisions every day that may not seem as momentous as divorce, but like the snow coming down, our choices move us closer to each other or further apart.
I tell couples in the counseling office to hold on to the hope I have for them. I tell couples who come to my marriage retreats that divorce is not necessarily the answer. Some think that divorce will solve all their problems and remove the pain, but often it only compounds the problems and makes things even more complicated. The best chance for a lasting, lifelong love is to work with the person to whom you said “I do.” But I realize that isn’t easy. I know. I’ve been there.
In the early yea
rs of my own marriage, I cried out to God. Why had He put me with a woman who was so different? So wrong about so many things. Karolyn and I have been married now for fifty years. Those first few years were really rough, but I can see now that they prepared me for what I’m doing today. My wife and I have a rich relationship that has been forged over time and trouble. I’m glad we didn’t give up.
No matter where you are in your relationships—single, married, or divorced—my hope is that this story will reinforce the message that there is great power in small choices. There is great hope in a heart turned toward another person. And ultimately, the greatest hope comes from a love outside of us, the love of God who wants to reconcile us to Himself. He was willing to send His only Son on a rescue mission. That’s what we celebrate at Christmas. Our prayer is that the hope of His coming will provide hope for your relationships.
One person cannot change another. If you are married to an intractable Jacob or Marlee, your choices can’t force them to be the person you want them to be. In fact, who you want them to be may not be the person you really want. But when you choose to change the way you interact with your spouse, it automatically changes the chemistry of the relationship. It’s another snowflake in the pot of boiling water. Add more choices to that mix and your spouse has to deal with a difference in the relationship. That person has to deal with another who is showing love to them.
I don’t promise happiness for everyone. But I do promise that a devoted spouse who moves toward that other person in the marriage will be much better for those good choices. Many have found the principles in the “purple book” mentioned briefly in stanza 2 of this story to be helpful in this process. The title of the book is The Five Love Languages: The Secret to Love That Lasts. Since 1992, it has helped transform thousands of relationships.
I’m hoping Jacob and Marlee read the book and discover their love languages and how to speak that love to each other in a meaningful way. I hope you experience the same.
—Dr. Gary Chapman
Discussion Questions
List a few of the problems Jacob and Marlee have in their marriage. Which of these problems do you identify with the most?
As Marlee views her life in the past, she sees scenes she obviously didn’t remember or had pushed out of her mind. Is it easier for you to remember the negatives or the positives from your marriage? Why?
Marlee asked Jacob to name one regret. If you could choose one regret from your life that you could change right now, what would it be?
Though only Becca knows about the impending divorce, how are the children reacting to the pain in the household?
Proverbs 13:12 says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick.” How important is hope to a relationship? Do you think you can hold onto someone else’s hope for your own marriage?
Marlee notices something about Jacob at a marriage conference they attended. She hadn’t seen this before. How does this speak to you?
In the end, Marlee was not trying to recapture her youthful passion for Jacob, but a new vision of what might be. How could a vision like this change your relationships?
Two futures were presented for Marlee and Jacob. Which do you think they chose? Did the futures work out exactly as depicted in the story? Why or why not?
In the prologue of the novella, Marlee talks about those who feel like they married the wrong person, or that love was frozen over time. What kind of hope from your own life or from the Bible would you give a person who feels this way?
In the old woman, Marlee sees someone who knows much more about herself, the Bible, and God than she does. What does this tell you about the path toward a deeper marriage relationship?
Marlee also said, “There is no barren place on earth that love cannot grow a garden. Not even your heart.” Do you believe this is true? Why or why not?
Jesus came to open the eyes of the blind, both physically and spiritually. This story shows the power of “seeing.” Is there anything you have seen anew about your life through this story?
THANK YOU FOR READING A MARRIAGE CAROL
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THE 5 LOVE LANGUAGES®
The marriage-saving phenomenon that started it all! Dr. Gary Chapman uses real-life examples from over thirty-five years of marriage counseling to illustrate the five distinct languages people use to express love. You’ll understand why you feel loved the way you do, and you’ll acquire indispensable methods for helping your spouse feel loved. The 5 Love Languages® can breathe fresh life into your marriage.
5LOVELANGUAGES.COM • MOODYPUBLISHERS.COM
