I got my funny back. 

That was one of the ways I knew my marriage was healing from the deepest-down place and that change was happening from the inside-out. 

I’ve always been the crazy one. {Which is ironic because I tend to take myself much too seriously.}

My friends always knew I’d pick “dare” over “truth,” the more ridiculous the better. 

My senior year of high school, several of my Jewish friends dared me to steal a plastic Baby Jesus from a nativity scene while we were out one night. I put him back in the manger before the night was over. I may have been irreverent but I wasn’t a thief. “Good” Protestant girl and minister’s daughter that I was, I felt horribly guilty after the fact. At least I wasn’t Catholic. I’d still be going to confession over that one.

But the whole story reminds me that I’m a little nutty. I’m not an obvious clown but those who know me well know I’m all about the laughs. I used to be anyway.

My husband knows this best. I was silly and spontaneous and he was a quirky sort of jokester back in the day. He’s never rolled his eyes at my kookyness and he’s always given me permission to be who I am. Even through the hard times, I knew he appreciated that side of me. 

Sadly, however, there were years on end when there wasn’t much of that side to appreciate. I’m not sure when or why but somewhere along the way I became terribly serious. Terribly. I had plenty to be sad about but still, it’s a real tragedy to lose the comedy in life. That’s what becoming a grown-up and dealing with seriously hard stuff will do to you.

Oh we still had our laughs from time to time but as the years wore on, I laughed less and frowned more. I didn’t look for the funny or try to be funny that often. The sorrow I felt hung around in the depths and instead of a wellspring of gladness, I exhibited a wellspring of negativity. He commented every now and then that I was too serious, that I’d lost my lightheartedness. 

I didn’t want to admit that he was right but the truth was, I missed it too.

This year has been a difficult one. We’ve trudged through more than you care to know. And in doing so we’ve dug deeper, cried harder, talked ’til we were blue in the face, had a fair number of knock-down-drag-outs and finally, finally gotten to the root of so much. 

There’s something about getting to the bottom of things that brings relief. And the relief brings freedom.

And apparently freedom brings the funny back. {Singing has returned as well but that’s another story.}

He’s noticed it too. We’ve both felt freer to be our crazy selves again and together we are having a lot of laughs. It may sound contrived, but I’m actually trying to be intentional about laughing it up. It is so good for the soul. 

Whether it’s getting kids to bed early so we can watch a favorite comedy or belting out an insane song in the kitchen while I’m stirring spaghetti and he leasts expects it, it feels good to resurrect the funny after years of being far too sober-minded. 

There’s something about laughing together that makes a relationship richer. I realize that funny can sometimes be a facade, a superficial mask to keep the real issues at bay. Funny isn’t a cure-all or a telltale sign that all is well. 

But for us, it has been an unexpected sign of love blooming lighthearted again.

I was not one of those girls who went to college to get her Mrs. Degree. I went to get my actual degrees and it just so happened that I met Mr. along the way. 

It was fine with me if marriage and children didn’t come until later, but love hit us like a freight train and we married the summer after college. We didn’t try to slow it down or delay life together. We said our I do’s and jumped headlong {and clueless} into marriage. 

He knew I was a fiercely independent spirit when he married me, knew I didn’t feel I needed a man. We had a few tiffs about it during our courtship. The thing he loved most, my independence, was also one of the things that made him a tad nervous.

He knew I had plans and dreams of my own, plans for more education and plans for career. He knew I appreciated rich friendships and my own hobbies. 

I didn’t have a husband who pinned me down, micromanaged, or monopolized. For years now, he’s given me freedom to work or not to work. He’s kept the kids while I’ve gone to visit friends and family and even traveled abroad. And all of these years I’ve thought to myself, What a lucky girl I am to have a husband who allows me the freedom to go and do and be.

He thought he was doing the right and good thing, giving me a break and some freedom when I needed it. I thought it was a good and right thing too. We both took pride in our modern, freedom-granting sensibilities. 

But all of this going and doing and being? It came at a price. Time apart is obviously not time together. It’s embarrassing to confess that we never really considered the toll that extreme independence takes on a union. 

It probably goes without saying that individual freedom was both a cause and a symptom of breakdown. Marriage was hard, communication strained. A little freedom seemed like a fine solution, even though it was probably a unconscious decision. 

And it’s okay that we all need a break sometimes. Work is tough. Family life can be stressful. Marriage is complicated. 

Even now, we’re not against individual pursuits of our unique passions.

But too often, we used our precious “free time” to travel along our own trajectories. We didn’t really cultivate activities we could do together. We weren’t intentional about setting aside time in the midst of the daily grind for us to connect in simple but meaningful ways.

Without even realizing it, we’d begun to believe the myth of quality time, the idea of creating “better time” to make up for lost time. 

But the occasional date night, vacation, or movie night on the sofa can’t make up for conversational intimacy cultivated day to day. The occasional anything can’t settle down deep next to habit.

A couple of months ago an older, wiser woman talked to me about this issue and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. She told me that it takes spending all kinds of time with someone to really know them. All time is quality time. 

It’s true. You can’t cram the richness of the accumulated mundane into a capsule labeled “quality time,” swallow it whole, and then expect a relationship to flourish. 

Relationship takes time together. Not fun time, not special time, not romantic time. Just time.

For us, independence created too much space and distance. It may not be the case for everyone but it did in our situation. 

Though we’ve endured real crises, we believe that a key battle was lost in the everyday. It’s why we’ve become vigilant about protecting our time together more than ever. 

Yes we can still spend time with friends. Relationships and community are vital. We still have hobbies. But we’re spending more time together with others and we’re becoming more invested in one another’s passions and pursuits. It doesn’t mean that we cease to be who we are as individuals. It simply means that we take this “one flesh” thing seriously, creating disciplines and practices so that the theoretical becomes real life. 

We’ve also become careful about the things we say yes and no to. In the past, we simply didn’t consider these realities. Now we know that we can’t afford not to. 

This is not the way of our culture. And it’s a whole new way of living for us. We’re not against pursuing one’s dreams. But we’re learning that these things all have their proper place and time. One can’t say yes to everything in every season. 

But saying yes to the best thing casts a new light on other things. Pastimes and practices that once seemed super fun and important now feel very, very optional. 

As we say yes over and over again to time for us and simple everyday transactions, we marvel at the new connectedness rising up out of ordinary life. We’re learning that quantity time makes quality time. 

I made collages for him. Yes I did. 

Bits of typeface, paper hearts, glitter and photos. It was painstaking but it didn’t feel that way…a labor of love that only scratched the surface of the overwhelming everything for this guy who made my heart pound and gallop like a racehorse. 

My love poured out freely and lavishly in the form of words, affection, sacrifice and wild, unabashed joy. 

I didn’t have to work at it. Neither of us did. Like a wild roller-coaster flying along its tracks, romantic love did the work for us. We were simply along for the ride.

And then marriage. 

Slowly but surely, what once felt like Disney World became more like the local roller rink. Oh it was still enjoyable, wonderful even, but it became predictable and routine. Comfortable. 

The languages of love that once flowed effortlessly began to feel unnecessary and sometimes even laborious. 

I’ve learned the hard way, however, that those supposed little things of the early days are monumental.

While regular date nights, marriage conferences and weekends away are all fine and good, they are serious luxuries for many of us. 

Is it possible that rich marriage blooms out of the fertile soil of the everyday? Conversely, neglecting the simple opportunities to feed and water one’s marriage relationship will eventually kill the thing. 

I write to remind myself. 

It probably goes without staying that I became neglectful over the years. We both did. {But for now, I’m simply telling my part.}

Strange how you have to relearn that which used to come effortlessly. Be encouraged that the more you practice simple expressions of love, the more they return to you and begin to flow freely again. 

No, I’m not still pasting collages together or making mix tapes. But I’m appreciating more, taking less for granted, making him smile and reminding him of my affection and admiration. 

I want him to know that I’ve missed him during the day and not just missed his help.

I want him to know I appreciate his hard work and not just his salary. 

He doesn’t implicitly know that I still find him strikingly handsome and charming. I have to tell him and show him.

Never underestimate the huge impact of the little. 

Sprinkle love often and liberally. With simple, repetitive nurture, that which was dormant breathes life once again. 

Love returns.