I remember being deep in the thick of postpartum depression after we had our first child. The days felt heavy, and the nights were longer than I could’ve ever imagined. After a year at home, I finally felt ready—maybe even needed—to go back to work. I told my husband I was thinking about returning, and he looked at me gently and said, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Don’t feel like you have to. We’ll be alright.”
Whew. That moment hit me deep. He didn’t say it with pressure. He said it with love. With assurance. With the kind of steady presence that reminds you you’re not doing this alone.
And right then, it clicked—this is what “to have and to hold” really means. Not just hugs or hand-holding, but the kind of emotional holding that says, “I see you. I got you. We’re in this together.”
To Have and To Hold
I used to think this part of the vow was only about physical closeness; holding hands, warm hugs, goodnight kisses. And yes, it’s about all that. But more than that, it’s about holding space.
Holding space for each other’s growth.
For the seasons where one of you is climbing and the other is barely holding on.
For the days when the only thing you can do is look across the room and say, “I’m still here.”
Marriage is about keeping a soft place for your partner to land. And it’s also being brave enough to admit when you need that softness too.
For Better, For Worse
Whew. Let’s talk about the “for worse” part.
Because you will argue.
You’ll roll your eyes.
You’ll question your own patience and their logic.
And guess what? That doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re normal.
My husband and I have had arguments over things I can’t even remember—socks on the floor, chicken not thawed, missed texts. But we’ve also held each other through job losses, parenthood, and health scares.
The “better” feels like sunshine.
The “worse” feels like a thunderstorm.
And marriage? It’s building a house that can stand through both.
Here’s the truth: Not everyone needs to know your storm. Keep some things sacred. Especially offline. Especially on social media.
For Richer, For Poorer
When we first got married, I was jobless and emotional. I remember my husband covering bills I couldn’t pay, never throwing it in my face, never making me feel small. That kind of grace stays with you.
You may have times where the budget is tight. Where you’re passing on takeout and eating sandwiches at home. Where gifts look like back rubs and homemade cards.
But hear me when I say this:
Your love story is not defined by your bank account.
Richness can be felt in how you laugh together.
In how you survive together.
In how you dream anyway.
In Sickness and In Health
This part hits different now. Whether it’s a cold, childbirth, or a global pandemic, your marriage gets tested here.
I’ve cared for my husband while he was sick, and he’s done the same for me. It’s humbling. And it’s holy.
Being there when someone is vulnerable, cranky, tired, or afraid, that’s the gritty side of love. And in those moments, the vows stop being poetic. They become action.
Till Death Do Us Part
Let me be honest, this line used to feel far away. Now, after 22 years of marriage, I hold it with more reverence.
Not because every day is perfect (it’s not). But because every day we choose each other again feels like an answered prayer.
We live in a world that makes it easy to quit. Easy to compare. Easy to walk away.
But sometimes, the miracle is staying. Not staying in pain or abuse. Never that.
But staying in the mess. In the rebuild. In the slow work of learning each other, again and again.
What I’ve Learned After 22 Years
Marriage doesn’t come with a manual. There’s no one way to “wife” or “husband.” There’s no perfect formula or flawless couple.
What there is—
Are sacred promises.
Shared sacrifices.
And small, everyday moments that make it all matter. It’s an art to being a helpmate for your spouse and to your spouse.
If you’re newly married, engaged, or just deep in the thick of it…
Here’s what I hope you remember:
- Your vows were never meant to be recited and forgotten. They were meant to be lived.
- Your marriage is yours. It doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s.
- It’s okay to grow, change, learn, mess up, and try again.
And no matter where you are in your marriage journey, pause and ask yourself:
Am I nourishing what matters?
Because at the end of the day, that’s what this is all about.
Let’s Keep It Real
Take a moment today to reflect, not on your wedding day, but on your married life.
Ask yourself:
- What part of my vows am I living well?
- What part needs a little more love?
- What small step can I take today to show up for my spouse and myself?
You’re not alone in this, friend. Marriage is beautiful, messy, and sacred work.
And I’m rooting for you.
Nourish what matters. 💜
