pandemic
(LGBTQ) Marriage is hard.
Today, Tams and I have been married 9 years. Together 17.
(LGBTQ) Marriage is hard.
(LGBTQ) Marriage with toddlers is harder.
(LGBTQ) Marriage with toddlers in an uncertain quarantine is harderER.
This photo is one of our happiest moments from 2009. Standing in the warm water in Huntington Beach, CA, laughing as a wave hit us. It was just us, the open road, and adventure. This was a high.
I’m not going to pretend this hasn’t been our roughest patch yet. Parenting toddlers and marriage-ing in a pandemic is TOUGH. There have been many moments of beauty and hope. But this season is a low. Stress. Tantrums. Uncertainty.
Some days I feel so strongly tethered to this immovable love. Other days the winds of life whip the dust around me and I can’t see properly.
I’m not the perfect wife. Some days I’m not even a good wife. But that’s where grace comes in. That’s where the depths of unconditional love reveals its’ beautiful face to me, and I can’t help but lean into it. Every day I am learning how to love well, by being loved well.
Being an LGBTQ person comes with its’ own set of challenges.
Being a married LGBTQ person comes with its’ own set of pressures. To not take the right to marry for granted. To not fail like many expect.
Being a married LGBTQ person of faith adds a thick and interwoven layer of shame and guilt that requires a continual dose of therapy and self-reflection.
(If you are an LGBTQ person and you are struggling – I see you. I am you. I want to make a mountain of space and sit with you in it. Don’t give up. You’re doing great.)
Because… there’s always love.
Some days it feels buried. Some days it’s just looking at each other and simply saying, “I’m not giving up today.”
This year we planted veggies in the garden boxes in our backyard. We stood with the kids in the fresh sun & peered into the wet soil. Tiny, teensy bits of green push their way to the surface, exclaiming, “Life is here! New life is growing!” It made me tear up.
Love – like life – is so damn resilient, and it just freaking never gives up.
Tams, I love you.
Happy 9/17 years together. I’m choosing us today, and believing for the tenacious love that just won’t give up. I know that through this, our love will grow even stronger.
