"My
oldest daughter, Jenna, recently said to me, 'My greatest fear as a child was
that you and mom would get divorced. Then, when I was twelve, I decided that
you fought so much that maybe it would be better if you did.' Then she added
with a smile. 'I’m glad you guys figured things out.' For years my wife Keri
and I struggled."
"Looking
back, I’m not exactly sure what initially drew us together, but our
personalities didn’t quite match up. And the longer we were married the more
extreme the differences seemed. Encountering 'fame and fortune' didn’t make our
marriage any easier. In fact, it exacerbated our problems. The tension between
us got so bad that going out on book tour became a relief, though it seems we
always paid for it on re-entry. Our fighting became so constant that it was
difficult to even imagine a peaceful relationship. We became perpetually
defensive, building emotional fortresses around our hearts. We were on the edge
of divorce and more than once we discussed it."
"I
was on book tour when things came to a head. We had just had another big fight
on the phone and Keri had hung up on me. I was alone, feeling lonely,
frustrated and angry. I had reached my limit. That’s when I turned to God. Or
turned on God. I don’t know if you could call it prayer–maybe shouting at God
isn’t prayer, maybe it is–but whatever I was engaged in I’ll never forget it. I
was standing in the shower of the Buckhead, Atlanta Ritz-Carlton yelling at God
that marriage was wrong and I couldn’t do it anymore. As much as I hated the
idea of divorce, the pain of being together was just too much. I was also
confused. I couldn’t figure out why marriage with Keri was so hard. Deep down I
knew that Keri was a good person. And I was a good person. So why couldn’t we
get along? Why had I married someone so different than me? Why wouldn’t she
change? Finally, hoarse and broken, I sat down in the shower and began to
cry."
"In
the depths of my despair, powerful inspiration came to me. You can’t change
her, Rick. You can only change yourself. At that moment I began to pray. If I
can’t change her, God, then change me. I prayed late into the night. I prayed
the next day on the flight home. I prayed as I walked in the door to a cold
wife who barely even acknowledged me. That night, as we lay in our bed, inches
from each other yet miles apart, the inspiration came. I knew what I had to do.
The
next morning I rolled over in bed next to Keri and asked, 'How can I make your
day better?'
Keri
looked at me angrily. 'What?'
'How
can I make your day better?'
'You
can’t,' she said. 'Why are you asking that?'
'Because
I mean it,' I said. 'I just want to know what I can do to make your day
better.'
She
looked at me cynically. 'You want to do something? Go clean the kitchen.'
She
likely expected me to get mad. Instead I just nodded. 'Okay.' I got up and
cleaned the kitchen."
"The
next day I asked the same thing. 'What can I do to make your day better?'
Her
eyes narrowed. 'Clean the garage.'
I
took a deep breath. I already had a busy day and I knew she had made the
request in spite. I was tempted to blow up at her. Instead I said, 'Okay.' I
got up and for the next two hours cleaned the garage. Keri wasn’t sure what to
think.
The
next morning came. 'What can I do to make your day better?'
'Nothing!'
she said. 'You can’t do anything. Please stop saying that.'
'I’m
sorry,' I said. 'But I can’t. I made a commitment to myself. What can I do to
make your day better?'
'Why
are you doing this?'
'Because
I care about you,' I said. 'And our marriage.'
The
next morning I asked again. And the next. And the next. Then, during the second
week, a miracle occurred. As I asked the question Keri’s eyes welled up with
tears. Then she broke down crying. When she could speak she said, 'Please stop
asking me that. You’re not the problem. I am. I’m hard to live with. I don’t
know why you stay with me.'
I
gently lifted her chin until she was looking in my eyes. 'It’s because I love
you,' I said. 'What can I do to make your day better?'
'I
should be asking you that.'
'You
should,' I said. 'But not now. Right now, I need to be the change. You need to
know how much you mean to me.'
She
put her head against my chest. 'I’m sorry I’ve been so mean.'
'I
love you,' I said.
'I
love you,' she replied.
'What
can I do to make your day better?'
She
looked at me sweetly. 'Can we maybe just spend some time together?'
I
smiled. 'I’d like that.'
I
continued asking for more than a month. And things did change. The fighting
stopped. Then Keri began asking, 'What do you need from me? How can I be a
better wife?'
The
walls between us fell. We began having meaningful discussions on what we wanted
from life and how we could make each other happier. No, we didn’t solve all our
problems. I can’t even say that we never fought again. But the nature of our
fights changed. Not only were they becoming more and more rare, they lacked the
energy they’d once had. We’d deprived them of oxygen. We just didn’t have it in
us to hurt each other anymore."
"Keri
and I have now been married for more than thirty years. I not only love my
wife, I like her. I like being with her. I crave her. I need her. Many of our
differences have become strengths and the others don’t really matter. We’ve
learned how to take care of each other and, more importantly, we’ve gained the
desire to do so.
Marriage
is hard. But so is parenthood and keeping fit and writing books and everything
else important and worthwhile in my life. To have a partner in life is a
remarkable gift. I’ve also learned that the institution of marriage can help
heal us of our most unlovable parts. And we all have unlovable parts.
Through
time I’ve learned that our experience was an illustration of a much larger
lesson about marriage. The question everyone in a committed relationship should
ask their significant other is, 'What can I do to make your life better?' That
is love. Romance novels (and I’ve written a few) are all about desire and
happily-ever-after, but happily-ever-after doesn’t come from desire–at least
not the kind portrayed in most pulp romances. Real love is not to desire a
person, but to truly desire their happiness–sometimes, even, at the expense of our
own happiness. Real love is not to make another person a carbon copy of one’s
self. It is to expand our own capabilities of tolerance and caring, to actively
seek another’s well being. All else is simply a charade of self-interest."
"I’m
not saying that what happened to Keri and me will work for everyone. I’m not
even claiming that all marriages should be saved. But for me, I am incredibly
grateful for the inspiration that came to me that day so long ago. I’m grateful
that my family is still intact and that I still have my wife, my best friend,
in bed next to me when I wake in the morning. And I’m grateful that even now,
decades later, every now and then, one of us will still roll over and say,
'What can I do to make your day better.' Being on either side of that question
is something worth waking up for."
How
wonderful that Keri and Richard found a way to come close to each other again.
May this happy ending encourage people around the world to re-examine
struggling relationships!
Source
: hefty.co