I started planning my wedding when I was 12. Scouring blogs, magazines, and online bridal vendors was a nightly pastime. I kept a file entitled “Wedding Inspiration” on my computer, and when Pinterest became popular, I quickly filled a board with gorgeous gowns, flawless makeup, and glamorous décor.
So I have to admit I was thrilled when my college boyfriend of two years proposed on my 21st birthday; I could finally buy wedding magazines without immediately hiding them in a box at the bottom of my closet.
Over the next eight months, I threw myself into wedding planning, dreaming of the magical moment when I would walk down the aisle in my perfect white mermaid-style gown, say “I do,” and then fade happily off into the sunset with my groom.
I should have realized my fairytale was about to be shattered when my husband contracted food poisoning the day of the wedding. Hardly the ideal situation for anyone’s wedding day, but we somehow made it down the aisle and through the reception. (Although he did have to forgo eating a delicious cut of filet mignon).
Here it was, my worst nightmare coming true. But in truth, it actually ended up being the best thing for my marriage: I was forced to throw my unrealistically high expectations out the window.
I could blame the media. I could pin my complex on all those Disney movies I ingested growing up, and any number of Hollywood-produced rom-coms. How they taught me to feel entitled to the perfect wedding, the ideal guy, the happy marriage, and the eventual house in the suburbs with 2.5 kids. (But that’s only after we traveled the world and built successful careers, of course.)
But in the end it all comes down to one thing: the selfishness of my own expectations.
Granted, the things presented to us as our right, even by the church, do play an important role in developing our expectations. Anyone who grew up in a church youth group as I did probably heard the spiel about how girls need to wait for a man who honours God with his life. How he needs to be a spiritual leader, wanting to spend his weekends evangelizing on the closest city street corners, content to only hold hands until marriage.
While there is nothing wrong with any of these things — there’s even arguably a lot that is right — our expectations, whether taught to us or generated on our own, set us up for disappointment.
I’m not criticizing the male population for all the ways they let women down. On the contrary, there are a lot of great guys out there who are overlooked every day. We as women also let men down and should hold ourselves to the same standards we expect from our crushes, boyfriends, fiancés, and husbands. It’s only fair.
I spent my engagement dreaming of the perfect wedding and a harmonious marriage. Now, only five months in, I already have a different perspective. We fight. Not just the cute fights that end up with us talking about the all the ways we love each other. Real, full out arguments where it seems like there isn’t a solution. Usually there isn’t, until we back down and look at our own hearts.
God commands us to love our neighbours as ourselves. It’s actually a lot harder to do than we think. Especially the part about not being self-seeking. Or not keeping a record of wrongs.
At the end of the day, my marriage is a disappointment. My husband is inadequate. I am a failure as a wife. The Cinderella-castle of expectations I spent years building has been destroyed.
And I’ve never been freer.
My happily-ever-after no longer depends on my husband embodying the perfect combination of affection and leadership. It doesn’t depend on my ability to be a super-wife, or on the absence of fighting in our relationship.
Instead, joy, forgiveness, faithfulness, and humility only come when I’m able to let go of my pride and allow Jesus to release me from my unattainable expectations.
Flickr photo (cc) by celynek
