The Sail & The Anchor

I suffer from a disorder called Delusional Optimism.

They say over the years that married couples tend to become like one another. However, it’s also true that each partner in a long-term marriage tends to compensate for the other, which is why (I believe) so many couples end up being polar opposites in certain areas.

My man would say he’s a realist. I’d say he’s a Worst-Case-Scenario guy. It’s not that he’s negative, he’s actually not. He’s joyful and fun to be around, he’s just always aware that most things are not what they seem, most people are more wicked than they seem, and he has no fairy-tale expectations of any situation. The great part of this is, he’s rarely disappointed. When someone does something disappointing, he’s not shocked. This makes for a great pastor (in my opinion) because he’s patient with people’s shortcomings. He’s willing to go the distance with people.

I, on the other hand, am a Believe-the-best girl. To a fault. I believe the best about everyone, I believe they have pure motives, I believe they are always looking out for my good, I believe people like each other, that they like me, and I like them! I always believe that things will turn out for the best, and I’m very trusting of others.

This is why Jeff won’t let me book online accommodations.

I look at the claims, the photos, and the low price, and think, “Great! Wow, I bet it’s even better in person. I can’t wait to stay here!” Sure, it might be rated 1 1/2 stars, but I believe that those 1 1/2 stars are better than no stars! 

The cup may not even be half-full but at least it’s not completely empty! 🙂

Jeff looks at that and looks for the worst — he reads the bad reviews, suspicious of the photos, thinking of at least a dozen ways this place is not as promised. He sees 1 1/2 stars as an invitation to run as fast as you can the other direction. There are probably bed bugs involved.

The result is that when we walk into our filthy dilapidated cabin near Sequoia Nat’l Park, I am a bit wide-eyed at the shockingly less-than-advertised accommodations. I’m amazed that anyone could list this cabin with a clear conscience. There’s no potable water, everything is disgustingly filthy, the sink won’t drain, the bathroom light and fan don’t work, the wall heater’s broken, the sulfur smell is intolerable, there are no basic supplies … How does the owner sleep at night?! Jeff just laughs. He knew it’d be this bad. You get what you pay for. You always get what you pay for.

Neither one of our traits is right or wrong. They’re just different. And together we actually make a great team. I’m full of faith and optimism, reaching for the stars. He’s planted firmly on the ground, evaluating the terrain and helping take care of the ordinary people and situations I ignore in my lofty visions.

A boat needs a sail and an anchor.

We need each other.

This is the amazing thing about marriage — we complement each other. For us, this has been the most powerful shift that’s brought profound oneness in the past few years: Seeing differences as complementary rather than competing. We know this, it seems obvious, but in the nearness of marriage, the differences tend to rub is the wrong way, agitating, so we polarize and over-compensate and blame, trying to be right or prove our perspective is better, rather than asking, “How do I need this trait of my spouse’s in order to become more like Christ?” The same is true even outside of marriage–we are the body of Christ. Each member complements the other. How much better we’d function as ONE if we understood this!

We haven’t arrived, of course. There are still a few traits I can’t quite see as complementary. 😉 But I praise God for this covenant, that keeps us depending on Him as we grow together in oneness, and more into the likeness of Christ.

{From the filthy cabin, with love,
Kari}