The Marriage That Hurts on the Inside

My son, my daughter, I know there are nights when the bed feels bigger than it should, even shared with someone who is still there, yet feels so far away. The marriage that was once a safe shelter became, somewhere along the way, also a place of exhaustion and prolonged silence.

I haven't come to judge who was wrong first in this story, nor to keep score of blame. I came to care for your heart, which is carrying disappointment, stored-up resentment, longing for how things were before everything grew so heavy. Guarding your heart isn't the same as hardening it; it's protecting it without shutting the door for good.

I still believe in restoration, even when it seems completely impossible from where you're standing inside your home. I can't promise exactly how every story ends — that depends on more than one person. But I can give you, today, a little new hope to carry you through this season without losing who you are in the process.