the marriage garden

My biggest take away from our marriage counseling sessions was quite simple. Your marriage is your garden. It resonated with me, not because I was even interested in gardening at the time, but because of experiences in my childhood.

My grandparents were farmers and as kids, my siblings and I would often arrive at their house to find both Mema and Papaw out working in their garden. Our childhood meals benefited greatly from their consistent hard work. I loved their garden but was rarely allowed inside. I am sure my Papaw was wise in his thinking not to allow five of his rowdy grandkids free reign in their precious commodity. Occasionally though, on a cool evening we would be allowed to help them in the garden. Even as a kid I understood the privilege. We were carefully instructed where to walk and what to do and we obediently listened and followed. I loved the straight rows of plants. The green popped against the black soil. The garden was sandwiched between the highway and their old barn. I distinctively remember the highway noise, my mom’s voice saying, “Mother” and the way the setting sunlight made everything appear magical. I never wanted to be finished with our projects. All too soon the sun would set, Mema would take off her gloves and we would retreat inside to get cleaned up.

Fast forward years later to our early morning marriage counseling session. The sunlight was streaming in through the windows and as we talked through the garden analogy, I immediately understood . Your garden is your own responsibility. As a child you grow up inside your parents garden. You have little to say about what is planted or how things are done. It’s not your garden after all, it’s your parents. When you start your own family you also begin your own garden. You each make the decisions of what is or isn’t planted. You each establish the boundaries around your garden according to your morals and values. It’s your responsibility and the upkeep to the promise you made each other is yours.

You often see parents offering, sometimes expecting, to let their kids stay in their garden. The parents do have much more experience after all. And their garden has often been established for years and most likely they do have resources to share. It is often a heartfelt offer but not a healthy one. Marriage has a God given design, and if you compromise the design, you compromise the marriage. The integrity of the garden is crucial. There will always be work to be done, seasons will change and vary, but the work remains the same.

I feel incredibly blessed to have parents who will be celebrating forty years of marriage next month. They rarely, if ever, try to give me marriage advice. They don’t have to, they live what they believe and I have the privilege of having grown up in their garden. It hasn’t always been easy, but day after day they have put in the consistent hard work to not just stay married, but to be married. I love getting to watch my parents together, especially when they laugh. I appreciate their never ending encouragement and support as Garrett and I have the privilege of growing our own garden. My grandparents were faithfully married fifty-seven years. I am thankful to have the experiences and the memories they showed me about gardening. When I stop and think about it, it’s such a blessing to have this heritage to draw from in my own life. What a beautiful gift.