Sharing


I’ll admit it. I really looked forward to our wedding night. I did not regret waiting until we married. But I was very, very tired of waiting. We both were. So we left our reception and our well-wishers, and drove up a mountain highway in the pouring rain, up to the cabin we had rented on top of Mount Nebo, where I had not been since I was a child of four. We stowed our luggage away and went into our room and lit a fragrant candle. And at last we were able to share each other’s bodies.

Our first joining of male and female went well. There was only a little blood and discomfort. What we experienced in the next few days of our honeymoon, as we gained skill and confidence, went far beyond that first consummation. Every time we could get by ourselves, we wanted to share. We could not get enough of each other. After close to nine years, we still can’t, really. We’ve been blessed very fully in this business of mutual physical attraction.

I learned very quickly, though, that when you marry you share much more than the delight of physical intimacy. You share everything—and we all have troubles as well as delights to share.

One thing I quickly learned about was the nightmares. I had known about the childhood, so very different from my own, full of poverty and uncertainty and sometimes fear. I knew about the bad foster homes and the time spent in an orphanage where kids mistreated each other and the director behaved like something from a Dickens story until he was replaced by someone better. That anyone could emerge from a life like that to become the person I loved and married seems almost miraculous, a testament to the power of faith, of a few good adult mentors, and of sheer strength of character and will.

All that could not take away years of fears and bad memories. They came out again each night in the form of bad dreams. Some nights I awoke to hear phantom arguments taking place beside me, or fights, or emergencies. On a very few occasions I awoke to kicking and thrashing and punching. It didn’t hurt me. Nor did it frighten me—I knew that none of this was directed at me. It did make me realize more just how much pain that personal history contained.

We also shared illness. That neglected childhood and a heritage of sickness led to frequent bouts of one thing and then another. Once or twice I was awakened in the night so that we could run to the emergency room. I spent hours there holding hands and presenting the emesis bowl and wondering what the doctors would say.

It wasn’t all one way. Now and then I was sick. Once I had to ask to be taken to the emergency room in the middle of the night, where I cried and begged for relief in a way that must have been terribly harrowing to watch. It embarrassed me afterward—but it was also good to know that I always had someone at my side.

Besides illness, we have shared other things we did not want. We’ve shared financial difficulties, and the arguments that those brought. We’ve shared the disappointment of not having children, despite medicines and vitamins and surgery. Each of us has had extended periods of depression. There have been the family problems arising from needy and fractious in-laws. Sometimes illness or exhaustion even gets in the way of that intimacy that we’ve so enjoyed, for much longer than either of us would like. Though I never felt that getting married was a mistake, I sometimes wondered whether I had gotten a bad deal. I was probably not the only one.

Through it all, we have remained together. We each made up our minds well ahead of time that once we had married, we would stay that way. If we should have problems—well, we were just going to have to deal with them and try to fix them. And we did. Sometimes that meant being forgiving, the way God has forgiven us. Sometimes it involved asking forgiveness. More than anything else, it has meant being there for each other, whether it felt pleasant at the time or not.

All this has taught me a lot about love. I understand much better now what loving someone really means. It takes a lot of work.

And it has such wonderful rewards! I’ve learned about those as well. In the past year I’ve felt like I was falling in love again. It’s not that I had ever stopped loving. Rather, I feel I’ve fallen in deeper. And I’ve been thrilled to learn that the feeling is mutual.

Marriage is much more than sharing a bed. That is nonetheless one of the greatest things about it. One of our favorite times each day is bedtime, when we can lie down together, and cuddle and enjoy each other’s warmth (or rather, I can warm myself against that big, warm-natured body). Sometimes we make love. Sometimes we simply enjoy each other’s presence until we fall asleep.

I’m not a heavy sleeper and often wake up during the night. When I do so I listen to the deep and heavy breathing beside me. I feel that reassuringly bulky presence. The sleep looks so peaceful. And it usually is. The nightmares are rare now. I’m told that I’m the reason why. It makes my heart glad. Helping to make up for that difficult early life has become one my own life’s goals.

I listen to the breathing. I think about how much I crave that body sometimes. And I think about how very, very glad and thankful I am for who and what I’ve got.

That was beautiful, D.L. Anderson.

Heartfelt and honest.