Who is that skinny couple on their honeymoon?

Today is our 17th anniversary. Pam and I celebrated last night by eating at Biaggi’s, a wonderful Italian place. On our 11th anniversary, we celebrated in Florence, Italy. Now that was Italian. I’m deeply, deeply in love with Pam. But to be perfectly honest, I don’t understand how I got to that point.

People write books on “The Secret of Marriage,” with a formula for what it takes to stay together. The “keys” to a happy marriage. Communication, shared interests, trust, “keeping God first,” mutual submission–those are some of the keys, and they’ve been helpful in our marriage. But as I look at our 17 years, I can’t reduce it to a formula–“Do this, this, and this, and you’ll have a marriage like we have.” I’ll bet Dobson can’t, either. Rather, every marriage is a unique, unpredictable journey, and to a very large extent, you make it up as you go without really knowing what lies around the next bend and how you’ll handle it. Despite periods of discontent and carnality and restlessness and sometimes, especially in earlier years, wondering just how much I really liked this woman–and I’ll bet most guys go through that–I find myself 17 years deep into this thing, and fully delighted with this person who bears my name.

I’ve always felt a bit guilty that I wasn’t madly in love with Pam when we got married. I’ve known people who were, indeed, madly in love (Ted and Linda come to mind). That’s certainly the only model Hollywood provides. It’s what American culture expects and exalts–that unless you’re madly in love, unless you “just can’t live without her,” then you’re probably not meant for each other. But Pam and I dated for five years, and for me the rational side played a much larger role than the emotional side. I deeply yearned to muster up madly-in-loveness, but it just wasn’t there, and that troubled me for some time.

For me, it was more of a decision. I cared deeply for Pam. Enjoyed being with her. She made me laugh. We shared many interests. And over time I became convinced that we could have a great life together. So I chose to marry Pam and build a life with her. I’d never seen Meg Ryan or Sandra Bullock take the rational approach; the movies require madlyness. But in much of the rest of the world, I imagine, marriage may be more of a decision, and various cultural mores undergird that decision (like in “Fiddler on the Roof”). And that sort of explains where I was 17 years ago. I chose to spend the rest of my life with Pam, and my Christian upbringing and evangelical expectations provided glue.

In a way, I’m glad I didn’t marry Pam amidst madly-in-loveness. For me there was no emotional mountain to descend from, at the bottom of which you get mired in second thoughts amidst the day-to-dayness of marriage. Rather, I started with a decision, and I’ve steadily grown in love with her (with jagged dips along the way, though at this point pretty far back down the road). After 17 years of journeying together, I feel deeply in love with Pam–far, far more in love than I was 17 years ago. Maybe after another 17 years I’ll be madly in love. Yes, I think that is highly likely.

Marriage is mysterious, the way your relationship evolves and circumstances intertwine you in unexpected ways. Just being honest: in earlier years, there were blips when I had doubts about the whole thing–though not anywhere near serious enough to even consider ending it–or I would create distance for selfish reasons, or I would just be a typical male jerk. But then I would roll over some morning (not every morning) and see her sleeping peacefully, and suddenly realize how much I craved her approval and enjoyed her laugh and wanted to never ever hurt or disappoint her. And the amazing thing is, I would go on to find plenty of ways to hurt and disappoint her, and unfortunately I’ll continue doing so. But she continues loving me back, and that melts me.

And now, love is the norm. I really love my wife. I can’t explain how that happened, can’t do bullet points on building a marriage like ours. It was a journey with a multitude of curves and switchbacks and falling rock and blown tires, but also lots of scenic drives together and mountaintop highs. However we got here, we’re here, 17 years after that day in 1989. I’m thankful, and I’m in love, and life is good.

I don’t know what trials and ordeals await around the bend, and I’m not arrogant enough to think we can survive ordeals that other couples haven’t, or that we’ll survive my own stupidity. Too many Christians have written books about their “keys to marriage” and then gotten a divorce. This stuff frightens me, though I fully expect to grow old with Pam and can’t imagine anything else. But the journey will continue, and if as the years pass I more and more frequently roll over in the morning and find myself happy that Pam is beside me, that can only be a good thing.