Mark had mono when we got married. He has vague memories of our wedding day; he was so sick I thought he would pass out during our first (and only) dance. (Shout out to our amazing wedding photographer Melanie Reyes, who managed to get some spectacular shots even though the groom was about to collapse. If you’re in SE Michigan and need a photographer, check her out!)
A week and a half later we found ourselves in the ICU- I had a kidney infection, and it became septic. Fun fact- 13 liters of fluid is about 26 pounds of water weight and will make you feel like an overstuffed sausage.
So you could say that we sort of dove right in to the “in sickness and in health” part of our vows. And truthfully, if I had to choose one of the vows that represent our marriage, it would be that one.
We’ve had lots of sickness in our marriage over our five short years of living this sacrament: physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional. I have fibromyalgia, have had it since I was fifteen. Mark struggles with depression and anxiety. We have both of us battled the spiritual and emotional sicknesses that can come alongside those things. And it’s tough to love someone in sickness, day in and day out, when the healing seems far away. I am extraordinarily grateful for the sacramental grace of our marriage, and for the ways that my husband leans into it to take care of me.
As I type this, our house is on the upswing from a bout with the flu. Mark hasn’t gotten sick this time around and thinks he must have been exposed to a similar strain in the past. So he’s been the one holding down the fort. He’s on a rotation currently with decent hours, so he’s home during daylight hours, and has been picking up all the slack that exists. He has cheerfully taken on the errands that need to be run, the dishes that need to be done, the laundry loads, the cooking, and anything else that needs doing when he’s home. He has repeatedly sent me back to bed when I’ve tried to get up and moving, telling me to rest and save energy for when he’s back at work. Not once has a grumble or a complaint passed his lips about doing extra.
He has even handled all of the Gram care while I’ve been sick because we’re trying to keep her from getting sick. And that is no small feat, let me tell you. When Gram is out of routine, she gets more confused and more difficult to interact with. She also HATES to be stuck in her room and apart from the kids, and has a tendency towards killing the messenger. The man is a saint.
I’m not always that gracious. I can get resentful when he get stuck at work, or has a sudden shift change, and I’m left by myself for a weekend I had expected to have him home for. I can be grouchy when woken up in the middle of the night by a sick child (looking at you William and your tendency to wake up screaming bloody murder). And I can be angry when he’s in the middle of a low, focusing on the ways it’s inconvenient or disruptive.
As I sit and ponder the sacramental grace that makes Mark so cheerful in the midst of unexpected illness, I am reminded of the fact that I need to be asking for more grace to follow his example. Because no matter what the sickness is- physical, mental, spiritual, or emotional-, we all live in a fallen world, so there’s bound to be some, and I vowed to love this man in sickness and in health without qualifications.
❤️❤️❤️