Can I just say that I’m crushed by the news of Maria Shriver and Arnold Schwarzenegger separating ?
And no, it’s not just because she’s part of the Kennedy’s Camelot that meant so much to my mom (and I suppose bled over to me by osmosis).
And no, it’s not just because I was raised on Arnold Schwarzenegger action movie–you know the “good” ones from the 80s and 90s. (If I admitted that I actually have the soundtrack to Conan the Barbarian in my possession would you think I was crazy? Just asking…)
I think mostly it’s because they’ve been married, faithfully, for 25 years.
These days that’s half way to eternity.
As the morning news went on and on about all the big life changes they’ve been through recently and how she’s been posting on Facebook about her struggles with transition my heart just went out to her. I can imagine how overwhelmed and maybe even lost she might feel.
Lost a parent? √
Major life changes? √
Major priority shift? √
All one on top of the other, on top of the other, on top of the other?
√ and √ and √!
Does it make you desperate for change, any change, and control?
Oh yes, I can imagine how she feels right now.
And as she faces the possibility of destroying such a beautiful sacred history, slowly built over these 25 years, I find myself praying for her and her family. Praying that they’ll find healing. Praying that they’ll find peace. But most of all praying that they’ll find their own marriage story lingering unending in their hearts.
Every moment of our life together as a married couple is, for good or bad, building our sacred history together. A history so intimate and entwined that it can never be shared with another person. As the years go by we become connected, not just by the marriage vows, but by 1,000 threads woven together by each decision we make. Each moment we live side by side, day in and day out, becomes a moment in our story. Our marriage story, our family story, the story that will become a legacy of love or brokenness for our children and our children’s children.
Part of our sacred history, me and my Mr. Fix-It, is youth. Innocence. Being young and in love and not knowing what life would throw at us or where we would go or what we would be. And part of our history will be maturity as we lived through it.
Part of our sacred history, me and my Mr. Fix-It, is pain. Brokenness. Wading through heartache and darkness. And part of our history will be that there was sunshine on the other side of those days and that we were there, together, to see it.
Part of our sacred history is selfishness. Being happily alone and fixated on each other and the joys of the moment. And part of our history will be the patience and long-suffering of parenthood. The vision of eternity granted by giving beyond ourselves to the building of generations of faith.
But even after 10 years, until the end of our days, each moment will only be part of our sacred history. A part of our legacy. Only perseverance can provide the full picture, the completeness, the ending.