How to Share Pain and Stay Together

People say that marriage is a 50/50 lifetime agreement “until death do us part.” But the giving ratio in a marriage shifts with the seasons. What is certain is that both parties must keep giving in order for the relationship to remain stable, like a rubber band. You can stretch it, but it eventually returns to its original size.

Seasons of life, crises we face, illness, job loss, the stress of raising children—all of these can shift the balance in a marriage.  Ideally, when one spouse is suffering, the other takes on a portion of their responsibilities and vice versa. But what happens when both are suffering, and the ability to give gives out?

When my husband Ken and I married, our dreams of living in bliss were eventually squashed. Our battle with rebellious, disrespectful teen boys thrust us into a delirium that almost destroyed us. We began disagreeing on how to handle punishment, we searched for pieces of truth in the midst of their lies, dealings with authorities entered the safe zone of our home, and our marriage seemed lost in the midst of all this chaos.

Although we lived in the same home, for a time we didn’t speak to each other unless it was absolutely necessary. Our pain was too great, and we were lost in our individual confusion and disbelief. Although we each knew the other was suffering, neither of us could rise above our individual brokenness to console the other. The marriage giving ratio plummeted.

So how did we survive?

Only by God’s grace.

We were in a fog of skepticism, lost in emotional trauma. But I needed my husband’s unconditional love, and he needed mine.

“Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and body with grief” (Psalm 31:9 NIV).

Weeks turned into months. We were cordial to each other in public, but at home our communication continued to suffer. We attended church and seemingly carried on as usual, but we weren’t fooling each other.

We discovered that Christians can become so overwhelmed with grief and stress that we lose sight of our Savior.

One Friday evening while I was reading my Bible, trying to sort through the pain, Ken appeared in the doorway and asked, “What are we going to do?”

The only thing I knew to say was, “Pray!”

He perched on the sofa while I sat in the chair. We prayed and cried. No one could know our heartbreak at that moment but Christ. We poured out our hearts to him, and he showed up. At that moment, through the power of the Holy Spirit, our marriage was renewed. We met in the middle of the living room, embraced, and promised to support each other as we faced our disappointments together from then on.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name. Great is our Lord and mighty in power; his understanding has no limit.” (Psalm 147:3-5 NIV)

Marriage isn’t always easy, but when both parties are willing and they allow God to be in control, even a broken marriage can be salvaged, restored, and grow to be better than ever.

Loretta Eidson is wife to Kenneth, mother of four children, and grandmother to twelve. After eighteen years at her church job, she resigned to pursue her love of writing. Loretta believes in the power of prayer. She enjoys dark chocolate and Starbucks coffee. You can connect with her at lorettaeidson.com.

Photograph © Bethany Beams, used with permission