5 Things I Wish I Knew Before I Started Dating My Husband

Photo by Figment Photography

On March 7, 2015, my husband asked me to officially be his girlfriend. It wasn't a particularly romantic moment (we were in our college's campus coffee shop), but it was in many ways the beginnings of the life we now have.

Even though we looked pretty cute together (if I may say so), our dating relationship was hardly picture-perfect. Immaturity, selfishness, and insecurity make it difficult to love one another well, and we spent a great deal of the three and a half years of knowing one another prior to getting married trying to unlearn these patterns and create better ones for ourselves.

We didn't know it at the time, but when we were dating, we were doing a lot of the hard work people told us we would do once we got married. Because we had to figure out how to trust, serve, and forgive each other as a dating couple, we transitioned with relative ease into doing that as husband and wife.

While I know we had exactly the dating experience we needed to have in order to be the couple we are today (i.e. a couple that actually got married and still likes each other), I do sometimes wish we had navigated that stage of our lives with more grace and wisdom than we actually did. If I could go back and share with our past selves some of the most transformative lessons of the last five years, this is what I would tell them.

1. People grow up.

Mitchell and I fell in love when we were eighteen years old. Legally, we may have been adults, but mentally and emotionally, we were still a lot more immature than we would have cared to admit. And because we were immature, we (and by we, I mostly mean Mitchell) did a lot of immature things.

But the beauty of knowing each other in these pivotal years of young adulthood has been that we've gotten to see each other grow out of a lot of that immaturity. I'm not sure which part of has been more rewarding: seeing him go from habitually oversleeping our 8:15 classes in college to routinely waking up by 5:30 so he can get to his classroom an hour before school starts or discovering that he can grow a full beard. I wish I had known when we were dating that, over time, he would outgrow many of the habits that I was so concerned about.

2. Communicate, communicate, communicate.

There's a reason this statement was the most frequently repeated advice from our pastor in premarital counseling. You're never going to fix your problems if you don't talk about them.

When we were dating, the silent treatment was my preferred method of conflict resolution. If Mitchell did something that bothered me (which tended to happen about every six months), I would just stop talking to him for a couple of days. And while I liked to think I was doing that so I wouldn't say something hurtful before I could collect my thoughts, in reality, I was trying to punish him for failing to meet my unrealistically high standards.

The horrible thing about marriage, though, is that it becomes virtually impossible to maintain the silent treatment when you live together, eat together, and sleep together. Eventually, you have to talk to each other. And when you actually discuss the issue like rational adults, you can work out a solution. What a novel concept!

3. Invest time into your relationship.

The first semester of our junior year was the most exhausting point of my college career. I was taking 18 credits (most of which were project-intensive education classes), working 15+ hours a week, and trying to maintain some semblance of a dating relationship with a guy who was also taking a full class load and working. Unsurprisingly, our relationship was pretty miserable.

After two of the worst fights in the history of our relationship, we were seriously questioning whether we should break things off or stick it out. But we agreed that it made more sense to try rebuilding a healthy relationship than it did to break up, so we decided to stay together––and to actually be together as much as we could, even if that was only a couple hours at a time once or twice a week.

As we made more intentional choices about spending our time, we rediscovered that we did in fact still like each other; we had just been failing to remind one another of that. The happiest times in our relationship have been the times when, even amidst busy schedules (such as the one we're currently operating under, which has Mitchell gone roughly 60 hours a week and me either at work or doing school from sunup to sundown), we've carved out time to connect.

4. You're supposed to be two different people.

When I first met Mitchell, I got the sense that he and I were a lot alike. We both had similar ambitions for the future; we both liked a lot of the same books and movies; we both struggled to find a friend group where we fit freshman year––we even looked alike.

But as I got to know Mitchell––and as we began growing into ourselves––I started to realize that we were much less alike than I had originally thought. We didn't have all the same opinions or hobbies or personality traits. But as I shared last month in this post, I've come to see that it's actually a wonderful thing that we're not the same person. If we were, as my dad says, one of us would be unnecessary.

5. To love at all is to be vulnerable.

For my nineteenth birthday, Mitchell gave me a bracelet with this C.S. Lewis quotation on it, and I wore it until I wore it out. This truth became so important to our relationship that I incorporated it into my wedding bouquet as well as our vows.

To love is to be vulnerable. To love is to open yourself up to the possibility of hurt, misunderstanding, shame, and loss. To love is to risk, to sacrifice, and possibly even to still lose anyway.

For much of the first year of our relationship, I refused to be vulnerable with Mitchell. I didn't even tell him I loved him until a literal year after he had first said it to me. I figured that if I didn't allow myself to get emotionally attached, it would be easier for me to detach if the relationship ended. And while I do think there is wisdom in not baring your soul to someone the first night you meet, there comes a point at which you have to set aside your emotional armor and open yourself up to the possibility of being hurt. To love is to be vulnerable, yes. But to love is also to be human. We were designed to experience intimate relationships with one another, and when we cut ourselves off from intimacy, we isolate ourselves from our own humanity. It's scary to be fully known by another person, but it's even more frightening to become a person who lives without loving.

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In the grand scheme of our lives, five years isn't very long. We have so much more to learn about marriage, relationships, and love, and we look forward to doing that together for as many years as God gives us. But I do think that, as we reach such milestones in our relationship, it is good to pause and look back on where we came from, and it is good to be grateful, both for the miles traveled together and for those up ahead.

Monthly Review: February

I have spent the last six Februaries unhappy. I'm not sure what it is about the second month of the year––the interminable Wisconsin winters may have something to do with it––but I usually find myself in a massive slump in the third week of the month.

This year, happily, February has been a time of steadiness and sweetness for me. Amidst the load of grad school responsibilities, I have found some time (not as much as I would like, but some) to savor the little things that make life beautiful.

What I Read

• When They Call You a Terrorist, Patrisse Khan-Cullors and asha bandele (★★★★)

• The Starless Sea, Erin Morgenstern (★★★★★)

If you want to hear the rationale behind my rating, head to my Goodreads for full reviews.

Even though this list is shorter than I would prefer, I've also done some phenomenal reading for my grad classes this semester. My rhetoric class has introduced me to the works of classical thinkers such as Quintilian and St. Augustine, and I found both Institutes of Oratory and On Christian Doctrine (we only read Book IV) to be profoundly instructive and thought-provoking. I hope to pick up On Christian Doctrine in the future (you know, that mythical point later in life when I'll have more time) so I can read it in its entirety.

I have to say, the coolest thing about being in grad school so far has been being able to casually say, "Yeah, I read Plato this morning."

What I Cooked

• Pesto Zuppa Toscano

I've had Zuppa Toscano before and enjoyed it, but let me tell you, this recipe is now one of my top 5 soups (and soup is my favorite food group, so that's saying something). Adaptable for the stovetop, Instant Pot, or slow cooker (my method of choice), this recipe is phenomenally flavorful and cozy for cold winter nights.

• Loaded Burger Bowls

When two foodie friends both recommend the same recipe, it's a sign that I have to try it. These bowls are essentially the burger equivalent of a taco salad, and I found them quite delicious and worthy of repetition (even though I forgot to add the bacon). When I do make them again, I plan to omit the maple syrup from the special sauce and add a little sriracha to give it some kick. I also recommend that you skip making the quick guacamole in favor of just dicing the avocado and calling it good. The easier, the better.

• White Chocolate Raspberry Cheesecake Bars

As soon as this recipe hit my Instagram feed, I knew it would be perfect for my family's annual Valentine's Day dinner. I love traditional cheesecake, of course, but the bars seemed more low-maintenance than the white chocolate raspberry cheesecake I've made in the past, so we decided to give them a try. They are the perfect balance of decadence and sweetness (i.e. rich and flavorful but not filled with so much sugar that they make your teeth hurt), and I give you full permission to, if you make them, eat one for breakfast the next morning.

• Coffee Cake Muffins

The problem with muffins, in my experience, is that I never have all the ingredients on hand for the recipes I'd like to try. These muffins, however, are the perfect pantry recipe. They're straightforward and delicious. Is there anything more you could want from a muffin?

What I Created

• Original sonnet "A Gift Received"

As March begins, I will complete my Classical Rhetoric and Editing, Layout, and Publishing classes (only 2,250 more words left to write on my term paper for the former . . . ), and then enjoy a lighter load with only one course in the second subterm of the semester, which I hope will give me more time for fun writing and reading. I truly do feel so grateful that, even when my feet are tired from an eight-hour shift and my sink is full of dishes to wash, I can be strengthening my mind and growing my skills through my time in grad school. I know I am right where I ought to be, and even though I don't intend to stay in this in-between space forever, I'm happy to be here.

A Gift Received [Original Poetry and Meditation on the Goodness of Marriage]

But do I take this man? I do, and yet

I cannot truly say I take, for he

was brought before me, and in him I met

Thy grace unearned, a kindness granted me.

Then do I say that I accept this man?

"Accept," to me, seems I thought I could get

no better, so I settled for the hand

he offered. But I know he is Thy best.

So neither do I now accept nor take–

Instead, Lord, I receive this gift, for he

is Thine for me. Thy will is that he shape

my crooked heart, and love it unto Thee.

He is my love, my joy, Thy child and gift

to have, to hold as long as we shall live.

Over the last several weeks, my Sunday school class has been walking through a study called The Art of Marriage. In the first session, one of the speakers commented that our spouses are God's gifts to us, uniquely suited to shape us into the people we ought to be. This sonnet was born out of a conversation Mitchell and I had as we went through the series.

When I got married on July 12, 2018, I got the greatest earthly gift God could ever have given me. As we grow together in our marriage, I am coming to see with increasing clarity God's gracious providence to me through my husband.

Marriage itself is a gift, of course. We do not earn marriage by doing the right thing, contrary to what The Sound of Music may tell you. If we do marry, it is because of God's grace in our lives (and if we do not marry, that is grace as well). For those of us who are married, we see that grace and our profound need for it as one imperfect soul unites to another. That covenantal state of union known as marriage is a gift in and of itself, but perhaps the greater gift is in coming to know that other soul.

Mitchell and I met and began dating at 18, were engaged at 20, and were married the month before we turned 22. Those nearly four years together prior to getting married gave us enough of an idea of each other's personality and character to know that we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. And as we walk through life side by side, I am seeing in ways I never could have prior to marriage what a good gift I have in my husband.

To someone who fears failing, God gave someone resilient. To someone who tends toward melancholy, God gave someone cheerful. To someone who keeps to herself, God gave someone outgoing. All of these qualities (and so many more) in Mitchell help push me to become a more balanced, Christlike person. And I do the same for him. Where he is spontaneous, I am structured; where he is logical, I am emotional; where he is constantly challenging the status quo, I am consistent. We are so different, he and I, yet there is something so good in these differences.

He is God's gift to me, just as I am God's gift to him. In our marriage, we both must receive one another as such––not as a trophy to earn or as a consolation prize to accept, but as an undeserved symbol of God's grace to each of us. My hope is that the two of us spend the rest of our lives giving of ourselves to one another and joyfully receiving in turn all the blessings of this beautiful gift of marriage.