Dreamers and Rocks: Some Thoughts on Marriage

I did some math the other day. I have been with my husband for almost a fourth of my life. For the girl who never thought she would get married, this 23% has been amazing. I have a good marriage, in part because I am married to a good man. He is quiet, safe, and consistent. People refer to him as a “calm presence.” He has a way of comforting people without saying a single word. I knew I was going to marry him after we sat for an hour of silence under a tree listening to live folk music. There was no awkward silence, only an assurance that we were connected on a
deep and meaningful level.

While we are both introverts and find comfort and renewal in the silence, we are also vastly different. I am an ambitious dreamer with great aspirations for my life. I feel a pull toward a life beyond myself. I dream big and in times of enthusiasm I run after things with full speed, not always considering the path of half-done projects I have littered along the way. My husband is one who is content – content that he has a job that pays the bills, has health insurance and financially provides a reasonably good life for his family. He does what is needed, and it typically stops there. One of my constant frustrations has been his lack of motivation to have or pursue dreams. He has never had a clear “calling” on his life, whereas I have known what I want to be since adolescence.

I was processing this frustration with a trusted mentor. Initially, I wanted to complain that I seem to carry the energy for our family. But before I started my rant, I reminded myself that I married him for a reason. I married him because he was a constant and calm presence. He is my rock; my home base. I could not be the dreamer I am, nor could I chase after my ambitions if my husband were not the man he was. If we were both ambitious dreamers, our house would crumble. As I started seeing him in this new light, my heart was filled with gratitude. He is the husband I need; the husband I want.

I began looking at my dreams, specifically the writing that I am giving birth to. My husband has read some of my writing, but commented that “It seems to be more for women.” Initially, I was annoyed at his seeming lack of interest, but resolved that he was right. I write mostly for an audience of women. As I continued to process this aloud, a new discussion arose around women and the role of spirituality. Across cultures, it is women who seem to be the bearers of spirituality. I remembered being in Viet Nam visiting Buddhist temples – the monks were the mainstay, but it was the women who ushered in their families. It was the women who carried out the rituals within the homes. Within most American households, I find much of the same thing – women are the god-bearers, the theotokos, within their families. Men are the protectors and the defenders of the doctrines and Institutions. Men protect against defilement. They are the constant guardians who keep it safe. Women give birth to spirituality, and men are the stable rocks that keep it grounded. Neither is better or more important than the other. We are different, but truly we need one another.

As we concluded our conversation and began scheduling our next meeting, we happened to pick the Feast of St. Joseph. Not much is known about St. Joseph, the step-father of Jesus and the husband of Mary. He is often referred to as the hidden saint. What we do know is that he stood beside Mary, the Theotokos, as she brought forth the Savior from her womb. It was his presence that allowed Mary to carry out her role. There was a slight laugh in the room – how coincidental to choose this day. My husband is my St. Joseph, my hidden saint. He is the rock that stands silently behind me that allows me to carry out my role – to birth the dreams and visions laid upon me. My appreciation for my husband deepened to a level that changed my heart for the better. As cheesy as it sounds, I am forever grateful he stumbled into my life. He has maintained the space that allows me to be the me I am called to be. I would not be who I am had it not been for him.