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We were both shy of being 21, but only by months. It was January 2, 1978. I instantly regretted being talked into wearing a white suit because black is way more slimming. Besides, I look like I belong behind the wheel of a Smokey and the Bandit Trans Am instead of being at a marriage altar with that blonde.

You don’t care about the details. You’re here for the stories. So am I. And I’m not really in the business of telling love stories, but you know LTW began as a “legacy project” and this is a monumental part of my legacy – my marriage to a girl I started dating when we were both 18. That picture of us is day 3 of our dating. It was the summer – July 4th to be exact – of 1975. I was done. Smitten. By the way, that’s a straw in my mouth. Again, I should have been wearing black, but it was a hot summer day in Oklahoma so I opted for lighter colors. A dumb, dumb choice!

As much as I’d like to make this about me – or us, this couple pictured above – I think I’ll go on record for the umpteenth time to express my love of the girl I married, Rhonda. Then I’ll veer into more general wisdom talk – talk of the power of a spouse, the value of marriage and how a man and a woman can benefit each other more and more over time through mutual commitment and love.

2018 was a challenging year for us, as it may have been for many of you. Some of you endured health hardships. Others financial burdens. Some experienced the dissolution of their marriage. Still, others got married. It’s all that “one man’s ceiling is another man’s floor” thing.

I confess that 2018 was a ridiculously pivotal year in many ways for me professionally. I made some serious decisions to take my career in a new direction. I’ve talked about that at GrowGreat.com so you can always go check that out if you care. Making such a pivot isn’t easy. But it’s exciting.

Personally, Rhonda and I faced some personal challenges that we’ve never faced before. We’re still standing together though, arm in arm and hand in hand. Because from the moment we began to date, we were committed to each other. After that first date, neither of us ever dated anybody else. From July 2, 1975, through yesterday, January 2, 2019, we’ve been a couple. Funny the wisdom you can exercise when you’re just 17. It was clearly a decision I got right. Her? Well, that’s quite debatable. If that girl pictured had known what she was in for, she may have made better choices. But I’m glad she committed. There hasn’t been a day pass that I’ve not been devoted to earning her respect and making her happy. I don’t succeed as often as I’d like, but my commitment is sure. I love her more today than I did in either of those pictures and that’s saying something because I was very in love in both of those photos.

We’re weathered and worn today, but life does that. We know so much more. We’ve seen so much more. Wisdom has never been deeper for us, often coming at a price we’d preferred not to pay. Such is life.

The Power Of A Spouse

Through the years I’ve sat down with many couples asking me to help them sort through a variety of problems. As a leader in a local church, it just goes with the role. Knowledge, wisdom and experience have taught me the power of a spouse, but I can’t speak of it (or even think of it) without recognizing the biggest reason marriages struggle.

Selfishness.

Nothing disrupts the power of two people enjoined together as husband and wife more. Nothing.

It’s the corruption behind every betrayal and disturbance. Selfishness. Self-centeredness. Self-absorption.

The power of a spouse is the power to put the needs, desires and wants of another person ahead of your own.

Nothing everybody is willing to do that. Or to sustain it over the long haul. The power of a spouse is evidence of the power of selflessness. Self-LESS-ness.

There’s nothing nearly as rewarding as I’ve found as putting the needs of somebody else before my own, but it doesn’t feel like that to me. And I’m not nearly as accomplished at it as I should be, or would like to be.

Rather, it feels mostly like failure to me. Because I have high expectations and I feel like I so often come up short of what I expect. It’s a single area where my dissatisfaction is rampantly out of control. Mostly I’m able to contain or manage my discontentment. But not when it comes to my wife. She and I have talked about this and it’s completely my fault, but I never feel like I get it quite right. I’m always coming up short. Missing the mark. And it’s not on her, it’s merely my strongest drive to hit the bull’s eye with each shot. But mostly I feel like I miss the target entirely. It’s the single biggest driver in my life when it comes to professional and personal ambitions. I’ve spent years looking at it, analyzing it and trying to figure it out. Decades into the search I can only report the fact of it. I don’t suspect anything will ever change it because I’m that committed to her. I don’t want to change it.

Perhaps the power of a spouse is that power to serve somebody else. And to have somebody willing to serve you. It’s not a score-keeping thing. It’s mutual. Neither of you keeps score because you’re trying hard to help each other. The score is joint. It’s the two of you together. Not separate.

A helping hand is always available when you’ve married the love of your life. Yet some of the loneliest people I know are married. To the love of their life? Well, I can’t be sure about that, but I suspect there is no loneliness quite like the loneliness inside a marriage. It’s sad. Sadder still because it’s completely preventable. Mostly spurred by the selfishness of one or both people. Unwilling to put the needs of their spouse in front of their own. Unwilling to bend or relent in always getting their way, having things go exactly to their liking. Gross immaturity wrecks the deal when people behave like a spoiled rotten 14-year-old. I’ve never understood why selfish people even bother with marriage. You’d think they’d simply move about freely to take full advantage of as many people as possible, but I suppose trying to have a single slave is appealing to them.

When you’ve been together as long as me and Rhonda there is so much history and context between us, and in our life together. It’s like compounding interest. It has grown through the years making our marriage more valuable. But like compounding interest, that’s only possible because we’ve both invested in this marriage. We’re committed.

So when we talk about the value of marriage we have to insert a qualifier – it hinges on your investment into the marriage. Like most things, it’s not automatic. Get married, enjoy a highly valuable happy marriage. Nope, won’t work. The value is found in the work you’re both willing to put into it.

“It shouldn’t be this difficult,” says the bride. She’s talking about a spat with her husband of 5 months (or 5 years). She’s wrong. Sometimes the husband makes a similar declaration. He’s wrong, too.

It should be that tough because it’s HIGHLY valuable. It’s worth it. People just don’t often understand how high the stakes are. Or how extraordinarily valuable it is to be in a great marriage. To be so closely tethered to another human being that you’d do anything to help them.

Most focus on the value of having somebody available for their needs and wants, but the bigger value is being available to help somebody else. To not have the focus on yourself. To be so preoccupied with the well-being of your spouse that you lose yourself. I’d love to tell you I’ve mastered that, but Rhonda would be the first to tell you that ain’t so. But I think she’d also quickly tell you she knows without a doubt how madly in love I am with her. She knows I’m committed to her welfare, even if I sometimes fail to fulfill what I most want for her. Thankfully, she’s patient while I try to figure it out. 😉

Time enhances and increases value. But only if you make the time count by working on yourself. YOU provide the value in the marriage.

That’s not a selfish YOU, but it’s YOU in the sense of who you most control. It’s YOU in that you must work on improving yourself. Your growth is key.

It’s not about making demands of your spouse. Or feverishly being intent on making them somebody you may want them to be. Instead, it’s about you working diligently to become the best version of yourself. And simultaneously working hard to help them become the best version of themselves…but it’s letting them drive their own life.

Black or white. It’s binary. On or off. Right or wrong. Yes, I know life is filled with gray, but in marriage, the commitment must be full or it may as well be null. You have to be all in, pot committed, going for broke. Your spouse must know it. Not merely hope for it. Or suspect it. But know deeply, without question or reservation, how true it is. It’s a level of reliance you can’t find in other relationship. Complete trust. Complete commitment to each other.

That’s a special human connection found nowhere else. It’s also a level of unsurpassed love.

I feel the same way Sir Winston felt. He was more articulate than I’ll ever be.

“My most brilliant achievement was my ability to be able to persuade my wife to marry me.”   – Winston Churchill

There is something special in that. The fact that he felt that way – and the fact that I feel the same way – displays how much we value our wives. Perhaps that’s key. Our ability to put a higher value on somebody other than ourselves. The years have taught me that anybody can do that, but too many just don’t. They refuse to make up their mind about it because they foolishly think if they’ll make it all about themselves, then their life will be enhanced. They miss the point of it all. And they miss out on the high value found in creating the GIFT, a great marriage.

It doesn’t mean things are perfect. It doesn’t mean the husband and wife are perfect. Rhonda nor I are perfect. Far from it. But we tolerate each other’s imperfections. We make fun of ourselves, and each other without malice. We can frustrate ourselves and each other. We fail each other more often than we’d like. But none of those things – and a host of other weaknesses we have – negatively impact us because those are not big things. The BIG THING is our devotion to each other. Our devotion to our united effort in making sure we protect, preserve and grow our marriage. We’re bigger together than either of us could ever hope to be by ourselves.

Yesterday – actually last night – marked 41 years since we both said, “I do.” Whatever wisdom we possessed – look at the kids in that picture, how wise could we have been? 😀 – we’re so many miles past that point now, today’s wisdom has no resemblance to our 1978 version of it. That’s how it should be. Growth in wisdom, growth in connection, growth in devotion, growth in love.

When Oprah introduced the world to Dr. Phil I recall hearing him talk to somebody about the difference in young love and old love. The difference in falling in love as kids, and being married many years. He said it better than I ever could in describing long-term love – the love like I have with Rhonda.

“It’s a comfortable place to fall.”

It instantly resonated with me and that was many years ago. But I often think of his description because it’s so accurate. So ridiculously valuable. So INVALUABLE.

But for a few small decisions and my life would be much, much less. Eighteen year old me got it right. Even a blind pig can find one every now and again.

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…………………………………………………………………………………..

In 1977 a singer I knew as a background singer released her first solo record, Just A Stone’s Throw Away. She had been singing with some of my favorite artists. People like Linda Ronstadt, Don Henley, Little Feat, Jackson Browne, and James Taylor. Her name was Valerie Carter. She was 24.

In 1980 Jackson Browne released a famous song, “That Girl Could Sing,” which was likely about Valerie. She battled drug addiction for years. She died in 2017. She was 64.

Track number 3 on that debut record is a song, “Heartache.” Click here to listen to the song. Today’s show title is a lyric from that song. Valerie, like you and me, knew heartache. Lowell George of Little Feat co-wrote the song.

We’re not going to end the year on a downer note. Instead, we’re going to be optimistic. Not because we stick our head in the sand, but because we’re strong enough to face the realities of our pain and heartache. And the reality that for some of us 2018 was a grand year of heartache.

Valerie sang that lyric directly to Heartache.

“Heartache, find another place to be. I’m tired of being your best friend.”

She’s tired of providing the landing place for heartache. Tired of embracing heartache as her best friend. It’s a breakup song with heartache.

Is there any better time to give heartache the heave-ho? Here at the end of the year?

Ditching heartache isn’t nearly so neat and tidy. Would that we could just make up our mind to be done with it. Not so easy.

2018 brought some of us extraordinary heartache. I know some LTW listeners who lost spouses. Some who suffered betrayal from a spouse. Some who endured heavy financial strains. Others who lost jobs. Some endured the heartache of loved ones addicted to drugs. Some were diagnosed with diseases. Heartache knows no bounds. It touches all of us, in a variety of ways.

Songs of trouble and heartache resonate with us because it’s such a universal experience. As I was listening to Valerie sing the song responsible for today’s podcast title, I thought of other songs. Ry Cooder’s song, “Trouble, You Can’t Fool Me” from his 1979 album, Bop Til You Drop. And there’s the song I always think of by Mat Kerney, from his 2009 album, City Of Black & White. The song, “Closer To Love” contains the line, “We’re all one phone call from our knees.” It depicts a phone call that buckles us, causes us such heartache we can’t even stand on our feet.

There are classics like “Lean On Me” by Bill Withers, released on his album, Still Bill, circa 1972. All of us can relate to the lyrics.

Sometimes in our lives we all have pain
We all have sorrow
But if we are wise
We know that there’s always tomorrow

Lean on me, when you’re not strong
And I’ll be your friend
I’ll help you carry on
For it won’t be long
‘Til I’m gonna need
Somebody to lean on

Please swallow your pride
If I have things you need to borrow
For no one can fill those of your needs
That you won’t let show

You just call on me brother, when you need a hand
We all need somebody to lean on
I just might have a problem that you’ll understand
We all need somebody to lean on

Lean on me, when you’re not strong
And I’ll be your friend
I’ll help you carry on
For it won’t be long
‘Til I’m gonna need
Somebody to lean on

You just call on me brother, when you need a hand
We all need somebody to lean on
I just might have a problem that you’ll understand
We all need somebody to lean on
If there is a load you have to bear
That you can’t carry
I’m right up the road
I’ll share your load

If you just call me (call me)
If you need a friend (call me) call me uh huh(call me) if you need a friend (call me)
If you ever need a friend (call me)
Call me (call me) call me (call me) call me
(Call me) call me (call me) if you need a friend
(Call me) call me (call me) call me (call me) call me (call me) call me (call me)

Sorrow. Sadness. Heartbreak. Heartache. Trouble.

Like love, these are common themes of songs, poems, movies, TV shows, novels and biographies.

Facing This Past Year’s Heartache

I confess that this year I suffered my greatest heartache ever. No, I’m going to go into it, but I make that admission so you don’t think I’m just faking it. I’m not. My knees have buckled this year. I have felt the hopelessness and despair just like you.

It won’t go away, but that doesn’t mean I have to make heartache my best friend. I refuse to let that happen. I’ve got too many people looking at me, watching my every move. Taking cues from me on how they ought to behave. I owe them better.

This year’s trouble has taught me some things. Some of them new, most of them not. But my pain and sorrow have made me better understand that our troubles contribute to making us who we are, but they only define us if we allow it. Instead, I’ve tried to find inspiration from Valerie’s song by urging my heartache to find another place to be.

The Paradox Of Heartache’s Company

Heartache needs a host life with which to associate. When I ask Heartache to find some other place to be, does that mean I’m wishing Heartache would visit somebody else?

I rather doubt Lowell or Valerie were wishing heartache on others. Sadly, both are gone now so we can’t ask them. I choose to think when Lowell George penned the lyrics to the song he wasn’t wishing ill on anybody. Likely, he just wanted Heartache to leave him alone. But Heartache is like the Devil and temptation. He’ll leave you alone, but only for a while.

Heartache has a phenomenally large capacity. Whether you’re embracing Heartache at this moment or not, it doesn’t matter. Heartache isn’t going to refrain from visiting others just because it’s got you wrapped up right now. And just because Heartache is steeped into the lives of others right now doesn’t mean there’s not enough to visit on you. Heartache is expansive like that. It’s like the 1957 movie, The Blob. It consumes everything in sight, expanding to grow as needed.

So don’t feel bad when you ditch Heartache. He’ll go visit somebody else no matter what you decide. You’re not responsible for the actions of Heartache, except to the degree you can control his intrusion into your life.

Heartache Is A Friend, But Shouldn’t Be Your Best Friend

None of us can imagine a life without Heartache. We’ve spent so much time with Heartache AND we’ve learned so much from enduring and overcoming heartache…it’s reasonable to consider Heartache a friend. A friend we don’t like or enjoy being around, but a friend that has provided us with many lessons. I’m thankful for the lessons. Somewhat sad that I need Heartache to visit me in order for me to learn them, but such is our plight as humans.

There was an episode of Boston Legal (do you remember that show? it was great) where Shirley defends a man keeping a teenage sexual assault victim from taking medication that will make her forget the experience. Part of her defense was that we’re all defined by the things that happen to us in life, good and bad. Indeed.

I’d like to erase some heartache from my life, but more importantly, I’d like to erase the facts of the heartache. I don’t want to remove the heartache. Rather, I’d like to remove the cause of the heartache. Or would I?

We’ve all had our hearts broken with young love. You haven’t? Well, aren’t you special! 😀 I have.

Would I have preferred that my first-grade girlfriend or my sixth-grade girlfriend stayed with me forever? Think of it. Rhonda and are fast approaching our 41st anniversary. Next summer it will be 43 years since we began dating. We’ve been together ever since. Had I not endured the heartbreak of lost love as a grade schooler, I wouldn’t have her. That would be a terrible loss!

But not heartache is equal.

People suffer badly. Often at the hands of others. Of course, I’d wish it weren’t so, but it is. I wish people didn’t suffer disease, injury or death. Bad things happen to people. All people. Good people suffer. Bad people suffer. We all suffer.

I suppose the grand objective is to figure out how to learn the lessons Heartache can teach without allowing Heartache to get too comfortable in our presence. Or without us getting too comfortable in his presence. Like a tutoring session, we learn our lesson, then leave.

The Many Face Of Heartache

Sorrow. Sadness. Disappointment. Failure. Anxiety. Pain. Defeat. Grief. Turmoil. Chaos.

Few things are more flexible than Heartache. It’s like that T-1000 from Terminator 2. You know, the cop in hot pursuit who is constantly reshaping himself into whatever is necessary to continue the pursuit. Heartache is like the T-1000. Adaptable. Pliable. Multi-faceted.

Resilience.

Parents wanting to protect their kids from disappointment and heartache didn’t stop to think of the results. They wrongly figured they were instilling an extra measure of self-confidence. Instead, by rewarding their kids for every little thing they created a fake environment that didn’t prepare their kids for the real world smack in the mouth. Adversity builds resilience. A lack of adversity builds softness and weakness. When kids grow up expecting everything to always be okay, and expecting to get a ribbon for just showing up – then we’ve created a delusion that will cripple them.

2019. The Year Of Encouragement.

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