People & Society

It is day one of our 22nd year of marriage. Yesterday we did something old & something new. Neither of us had ever been to the Underground Gardens in Fresno and I like doing things that we have never done before. It wasn’t what I expected, but John had seen it on “California’s Gold” back in the day, so he wasn’t very shocked. When I hear the words “underground gardens”, my mind is filled with visions of colorful vining flowers lining the walls of damp cavernous underground tunnels, sparse lights that shimmer in streams of water that ripple over rocks and echo in the small chamber, and in the air, you can taste the jasmine and damp earth. But, alas, that wasn’t it.

Musty, dusty, squatty, and stale. Those are probably the first words that come to mind when I think about what we saw. They don’t necessarily beckon visitation. It was hotter than I expected, but it is Fresno and while it was only ninety degrees outside yesterday, I was expecting it to be cooler underground. An Italian immigrant named Baldasar built and dug it himself to live in around the turn of the 20th century. So, it is really old. He had dreams of being a citrus farmer but bought 90 acres of Fresno hardpan. He was a ditch digger, quite literally, and connected the ideas of the cooler ground below with how to survive Fresno heat. He was only about 5’6 so the archways and tunnels, hardpan bricks & homemade cement, were just about right for my 5’7″ height. John’s 6’4″ body basically had to contort the entire tour. There were rooms and hallways, a kitchen, a bedroom, a well, and even a cave with a fishpond for a ceiling. The gardens had no flowers, but trees and vines that grew straight up through skylights, I mean holes in the ground/ceiling. While it wasn’t what I expected, the fact that a man dug it and built it by himself with no real tools or technology was impressive, and the trees and vines thriving underground, reaching for sunlight, made me think.

My marriage is a lot like the gardens we walked through. In the beginning, I was full of wildly beautiful expectations. A prince to look at me longingly for the rest of my life. Diamonds that glisten when they catch the light just so. A hand to hold and a guide for all my days. Everything would be rosy and comfortable and even painful things would be tolerable as long as we were together. This sounds like I am headed in a negative direction, but hear me out: I will take musty, dusty, squatty, stale, and impressive over my childish expectations all day long.

First, I should mention that we do still look at each other, just now longingly has turned to more lovingly and we laugh a lot more. There are still diamonds involved, and I do still look at my hand when I’m driving as the light shines through the windshield and makes my ring sparkle. We still hold hands all the time, but my pinky wraps around his first finger. Our kids think it’s weird, but honestly, it’s the perfect fit. My favorite place in the world, the place where I am the most comfortable even when I am in pain, is in his arms. My expectations have been exceeded in my marriage and my idea of beauty is much less wild and much more deep.

We have worked long and hard in this Fresno hardpan of a marriage ground. We have dug deep, found wells, and planted roots that are stronger for the season they have weathered. There may not be flowers all around, but there is fruit and old vines that connect and reach toward the sunlight. We have grafted our lives together and produced new things. We have watched them grow, we have watched them wither, we have had to prune certain growths painfully deep, but with each cut, strength increases.

It doesn’t always smell like roses. In fact, sometimes circumstances flat out stink! However, the most beautiful and strong flowering plants have been given the best fertilizer. Translation: lots of good poo will help marriage grow even though poo stinks. So when you are in the stink, remember the fruit that will come. You just have to sit in the stink and let it do its thing. Get down to the root of the issues. Work it deep into the soil around the roots and treat it with understanding. Cut out the parts that are dying or infected that endanger the health of the plant and surrender to the process. (1 Peter 5)

It isn’t always cool and well-watered. In fact, sometimes it’s hot, dry, and dusty. It may feel like you have been burnt. Getting too caught up in life and work and parenting and serving and, and, and… the list is long, my friends. This often causes dry seasons in marriage. You forget that you are supposed to serve one another and love one another in the way that is needed and start resenting that the other person isn’t loving you in the way that you need. The cyclical dry season starting with neglect, leading to resentment, resulting in anger, acting out in selfishness, and circling back to neglect can be brutal. But, you can end the cycle anytime. We know exactly what needs to be done in our marriage to end the cycle. John’s love language is acts of service. My love language is physical touch. The moment we return to these things, it’s like a beautiful soft rain is blessing scorched desert earth. One action, one touch, can relieve the pain and start the growth again. (Ephesians 5)

It isn’t always comfortable. Everyone in a marriage has to bend. Sometimes you may be bending for long periods of time until you are in a place where you can stand up and stretch. Sometimes one of you is bending while the other is completely fine. Sometimes you are bending together. However, bending isn’t breaking. If your roots are strong, then no matter how much you are bent, you won’t break. What you are rooted in matters. The depth of those roots matters. Whatever comes, the plants with the deepest and strongest roots can withstand it. (Ephesians 3)

It isn’t always moving. There are times in marriage when things seem stale. You are going through the motions day in and day out and it seems a little boring. But, how would we know what exciting is if we didn’t know what boring is? We appreciate the fun things so much more when we have experienced seasons of stillness. Actually, seasons of stillness are exactly what we need. Too much extreme intensity is exhausting. Sometimes we use busy to ignore work that needs to be done that we only notice when it is quiet and still. It is here in the quiet and stillness where work can be done and growth can be cultivated. I guess the real question is how deep do we want to get? (Isaiah 30:15)

Now, here is my true takeaway from the garden. It really was impressive. The depth, the ingenuity, the strength, and the punctuated places in the underground home were focused on growth. The purposeful places where sunlight was directed and exposed to the trees and plants. The fact that it was at least 10 degrees cooler than the surface was comfortable. If I continue with my metaphor, I have to declare that I want the love in my marriage to continue to look like this. Impressive, but not full of fleeting flowers that fade, not gorgeous and striking, and not busy to the eye. But one that is called beautiful because it is deep and unexpected, punctuated by growth in the most random places. Full of turns and places that we have contorted to get through, but that we can look back and say we did that. Moments of space and grace and stillness that we give one another to truly examine what needs to be done. Roots that are stronger because they have been planted in Christ and not any other unworthy soil. This is Love. It reflects the way Christ loves his church and gave himself up for her. Love is patient and kind. It does not envy it does not boast. It is not proud or self-seeking. It is not easily angered and does not keep any record of wrongs. It doesn’t delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres. Love never fails. (1 Corinthians 13) God IS love. (1 John 4)