Living Examples -- A New Series

"Ok guys, don't drink this all at once..." 

I'm starting a new series!

Once a month, I'll be posting a blog about a married couple or married person who in some way has illustrated to me something important about living the marriage vows, or who has inspired me in what I want my own marriage to look like when I'm all 'grown up'.

Some of these people I've known as close friends, others, I've known only their faces. But all have touched my life, and doubtless, many others as well. Some I'm including for their good example.

Others...not so much.

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The abbey chapel where I attended daily mass in college was usually pretty empty. You'd have the (mostly elderly) monks in the sanctuary, one or two old ladies in the pews, and maybe another college student or two. There were also two middle aged married couples who were there pretty regularly. 

The first couple were a tall skinny mustached man and a stately, dark haired lady who sat about midway through the church on the left hand side. Sometimes the man would come alone. Other times, the couple would have a teenage girl, I assumed their daughter, attending mass with them. They would come in quietly, and leave just as quietly afterwards. I don't think I ever so much as exchanged the sign of peace with them, much less learned their names.  

But when they were there together at mass, I was always drawn to watch them. While they listened to the readings or the homily, the man's arm was almost always casually around his wife's shoulders, his hand gently stroking her arm, his wife gently leaning against him. They seemed content to be there with one another. Being at mass with each other was something they obviously did with love for one another as well as love for God. 

The second couple was a tall, nervous looking man and a short, petite woman with shoulder length hair and coke-bottle glasses who constantly wore a stocking cap. They generally sat in the very last pew, close to the door. They shared the pew, but always had at least two feet of space in between them. Even when the sign of peace came, they wouldn't engage in any sort of physical contact-- just a small, curt nod and a halfhearted wave. There never seemed to be any sense of warmth or affection between them. Though they were there together, their connection seemed to be one only of proximity, not of any sort of affection or collaboration. I never would have even known that they were married if I hadn't been acquainted with one of their children, a fellow student at the university. 

I can't claim to know the full story of what was in these two couples' hearts, or what happened in their homes or histories. But from the outside looking in, it seemed that the small decisions of a lifetime were encapsulated in that daily half hour. One seemed to be a home full of love and affection, while the other seemed cold and held together only by a bare sense of duty.

In the years since I've graduated college, moved away from the abbey, and started a family of my own, I've found myself thinking of the two couples often. Though I never got to know the first couple, their quiet witness to their love for God and each other was a powerful witness to me and an inspiration for what I wanted my own future marriage to look like. The second couple also witnessed to me in their own right.  They showed me what a life held together by duty rather than love could look like, and what could happen if, for one reason or another, nurturing family relationships wasn't given proper priority.

Both couples showed me the power of the silent witness of living out our lives, and just how much that witness can make an impact on others, for good or for ill. In this time of life where it's difficult for me to be actively engaged in official ministry, I only have to remember them to realize that I'm providing a powerful witness just by investing time and effort in my relationships with my family.