This week, J and I celebrated our 13th wedding anniversary. As sometimes happens, we hardly saw each other on the actual day, but we managed to escape for a quick getaway a couple of days later. We actually ended up at the scene of our first (blind) date. Well, sort of. We were at a restaurant across the street, since the site of our actual first dinner has since been torn down and replaced with a very large Sun Tan City.

That really struck me as humorous, although it might not have a year or two ago. Much like the wrecking ball and construction site mess that transforms the old building into the new, the rosy romantic love of the wedding day can easily be pressed, stretched, and reformed through the years into something that barely resembles the original. This is, sadly, the end of many a marriage. It nearly was for ours, but by the grace of God, it wasn’t.

On Christmas Eve, 2016, after one of the most heart wrenching arguments we’d had, I tearfully told my husband I wanted out. Out of the turmoil, out of the strain and unhappiness, out of the seemingly endless cycle of trying to fix things and failing. We’d gone to counseling, we’d gone through the exercises, but we just couldn’t seem to find peace. For the past 2 years, we’d been through a hurricane of job loss, medical issues, financial strain, postpartum depression, and so much anger. I was worn out.

I’d never wanted to end up divorced. Both sets of our parents are celebrating their 50th anniversaries this year – our grandparents were separated only by death. We did not come from a background of calling it quits, but there just did not seem to be an end in sight. I was distraught at the idea of what we might be doing to our then toddler, I was struggling in every area of my life, and I felt terribly, terribly alone.

My words seemed to hang in the air, and then J gave his answer. With tears of his own, he told me he just wanted me to be happy, and if he needed to leave for that to happen, he would. I had an open door to end it between us, but when I opened my mouth to say it, my heart spoke something else instead. I realized that if I truly believed the vows we had made before God had been heard and accepted by Him, this marriage could be saved. I want to say here, carefully, that I am aware that there are some marriages that cannot be salvaged. There are times when, due to risk of personal safety or abandonment or other deeply painful circumstances, reconciliation isn’t possible or advisable. But those were not our issues.

Our problems were mostly unmet expectations with a heavy dose of poor communication, lack of compassion, and, as much as it pains me to say, lack of trusting God. While I had, many times, gone through the litany of our problems in my head, I finally realized in that one moment that they all boiled down to the last one: I had stopped trusting God with my marriage. When J offered to leave to make me happy, I finally saw his heart. He did love me, even if it wasn’t the candlelight and roses variety. He valued my happiness, my well-being more than his own. When was the last time I’d done that for him?

So my answer to him was that I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to have a lifelong marriage. I wanted to have and to be a partner with a shared purpose in life. I wanted to be part of something bigger than just an amalgamation of bills and to do lists and home repairs. For the first time, I truly understood that my husband was not my enemy.

We didn’t fix everything overnight, but with our priorities finally aligned, healing began to flow. There is peace in our home. When we do argue, we resolve it quickly, without emotional damage to one another. We set in motion a series of goals to achieve together that are transforming our lives in every way.

There is a book in our house that we call the Marriage Book. My mother gave it to me as a bridal journal when I got engaged, but since my planning binder dominated that time, I didn’t actually use it. On our first anniversary, I wrote a letter to J in it, and he wrote one to me. This became our annual tradition. The letters are part recap of our year, part romantic mushiness, and part hopes for the year to come. There are 2 years worth of blank pages in that book. I regret that, but at the time there were no words we wanted to commit to ink. I had thought perhaps we’d go back and put something down to mark the passing of those years, but now I know we won’t. We have moved forward. The pages are filling up again, and it’s time for me to write another one now. Those empty pages will serve as a memorial to what we did wrong but also, and far more importantly, to forgiveness and to mistakes we no longer make.

I have several sweet friends getting married this year. I’m happy for them; excited by their excitement. It brings back memories of butterflies and anticipation and joy. But it also gives me a lot to think about. We sailed into our wedding, as many do, sincere in our love for each other, but pretty unprepared for our lifetime together. So here is what I’m thankful to know now, but wish I had known (or lived out better) then.

1) Pray for your husband, every single day. Not “God please make him ______” but for blessings over him, his wellbeing, favor in his work, thankfulness for him. You cannot sustain destructive anger towards someone today when you know you’ll be asking God to bless him again tomorrow morning! And oh yes, God hears those prayers.

2) Talk about money. Be honest, open, and direct. This is not an area for assumptions. Use a budgeting tool (we use You Need A Budget*, but even paper and pencil can work), set your giving, saving, and spending goals together, and work your plan. And my personal opinion is to share joint accounts. I know couples who don’t, but I think there’s tremendous value in seeing the money and its administration as “ours” instead of “mine over here and yours over there.”

3) Learn to fight fair. Use “I feel” statements instead of “You always” or “You never”. Rarely are either of those true, and they just add fuel to your own fire. Remember that this man you are angry with is your partner for life, and is just as valuable to God as you are. Speak your heart, but do it with peace as the goal, rather than your personal rightness. This may require some deep, calming breaths and a dose of prayer before you speak. I promise you won’t regret that.

4) Do not withhold forgiveness from your husband. If he comes to you with a sincere apology, accept it. Without an “ok, but….”. You are his safe place and he is yours, but it won’t feel that way at all if he’s always wondering if you’ll throw his past mistakes in his face the next time you’re angry. If you consistently practice #3 above, this one is much easier to do.

5) Celebrate your differences. We rarely marry carbon copies of ourselves! We are gifted differently to complement one another. His lack of thinking as you do is not a weakness on his part, much as it might annoy you in the moment. And I’ll add this here, although it probably deserves its own entry: You are not always right. His way of doing things isn’t inherently wrong just because it’s different from how you prefer it to be done. The end goal is far more important than the method.

I could probably expand this list by a dozen more items, but these are at the top. I hope if you are married that there is laughter and joy between you and your husband. I hope you haven’t experienced the turmoil we went through. But most of all, I hope that our story (shared here with J’s agreement) can be used for good; that someone who reads this one day finds hope and a promise of a future they feared had been ruined.

*All YNAB users are given a referral link to share. You are under no obligation to use it, but if you do and you decide to sign up past the free trial, you’ll get an additional month free and so will I.