A Lesson in choosing commitment when it’s not convenient

I’ve been married for four years now. Our anniversary came this month, and for someone who married later than most of my peers, I thought I was ready — at least in the ways that mattered. But marriage has a way of teaching you things you never imagined. I am proud of myself for making it this far, and I wouldn’t be completely honest if I didn’t say that God’s grace has carried me through more than once.

There were many reasons I delayed marriage. One was that my family was pretty opinionated about my choice of a life partner, and for a while, I let their voices steer me. Another was that I simply felt I couldn’t handle the hassle. I had a sickly childhood and an even more challenging adulthood, so any time I sensed danger in a relationship, I would walk away. And yet, there were also times I stayed until the breaking point — then tapped out. By the time my husband came along, I had been through enough to believe I was mentally prepared for whatever he came with. But I quickly realized he was another kettle of fish, complete with his own peculiarities and idiosyncrasies. The truth hit me: as long as I was with another human being, there would always be something to deal with. My cousin, who married years before I did, once said it best in her own words: “You don’t escape life by marrying — it just comes in a different form.” Four years in, I can say I’ve lived that truth.

When we first got married, my husband and I didn’t live together right away because of the rigors of immigration. Eventually, we scaled that hurdle and settled under the same roof — and that was when reality truly set in. One day, while recovering from an illness, it hit me with startling clarity: We were like day and night. Our backgrounds, exposures, personalities and approach to life were totally different. I remember voicing that realization aloud — not in anger, not to wound, but calmly and matter-of-factly, almost as if I was naming what had been sitting quietly between us all along.

At first, I felt like someone who had been scammed. I even found myself contemplating the possibility of separation. But I am a believer, and I see marriage not just as an agreement but as a covenant. That conviction has been my anchor. It has kept me steady when my feelings wavered and reminded me that commitment is not about convenience — it’s about choosing, even when it’s hard.

When I speak of God’s grace as an anchor, what I mean is the wisdom that comes when I need it most. I find myself inspired to act in ways I couldn’t have planned, nudged and guided by the Holy Spirit in the quiet moments that matter most.

Some of my closest friends from my single years felt as though I had left them behind when I got married. I tell them what I’ve learned: marriage is not a competition. It’s not about who arrived first or who is still waiting. It’s not about tall, dark, and handsome fairytales either. It is about conviction. It is about commitment. And if there is one thing I know for sure, it’s that there is no need to rush these things. The timing, the lessons, and even the grace for it — they all come in their season.

Thanks to Jason Edmunds for this writing prompt.

This article is solely for informational purposes and represents the writer’s personal opinion. Please seek professional advice if required.

Find your stage on RESONATES. Touch hearts, inspire minds and find comfort that you are not alone. Write with us. Read the submission guidelines here.

Marriage, Grace, and Grit: Confessions of a Millennial Wife was originally published in RESONATES on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The story of the woman who once hated the cold

When I was young, I hated the cold.
You’d never catch me near a fan or air conditioner by choice. In the early days of my career, I was always the first to switch off the AC in the on-call rooms. My colleagues used to joke that I had hypothyroidism.

My dad had a running joke about shipping any of us off to Saskatchewan. At the time, we didn’t get it. But now, in hindsight, I do. Dad was a world traveler — he knew things.
Fast forward to today: I live in the Canadian Prairies. Winters here? Brutal. A minus 50 isn’t unusual. I’ve walked in it — literally. My old office was 30 minutes from home, and I braved it.

Now, we’re in summer. And these days, it’s rare for me not to turn on the air conditioner. God knows I’m dreading my hydro bill. The strange thing is: I’m almost always hot. I suspect perimenopause is catching up with me. While I’m complaining about the heat, my husband sits there insisting he’s cold.

Growing up, my parents were big on sugar-free meals, night baths, and afternoon siestas. Once we left home, everyone did whatever they liked. I ditched night baths for years. My husband was perplexed. Then one day, I resumed them — because I couldn’t sleep without a bath or the air conditioner. One or the other, and I’d sleep like a baby.

Last night, I turned in early. Of course, I switched on the AC. I skipped my bath because I’d had a late one that morning. Two hours in, I woke up drenched in sweat. The bloody AC was still on — so what the hell? I had to get up and take a shower before crawling back into bed.

Now, perpetual air conditioning and night baths are my norm.
Being unafraid of the cold is another.
And honestly, I think my dad might just be having a good laugh.

I’ve thought about these changes a lot. They didn’t happen overnight. First, I stopped reacting to the cold. Then, I started reaching for it. I went from avoiding fans to searching for the coolest spot in the room. Somewhere along the line, my body stopped fighting it. Or maybe it just needed different things.

I also notice how little habits become fixed. Bathing at night used to be optional. Now, skipping it feels like forgetting to eat. I used to avoid anything cold before bed. Now, if the room isn’t cool, I won’t sleep well. These aren’t big, dramatic changes. But they build up.

Age teaches you these things. Your body shifts, and so does your idea of comfort. My tolerance for cold increased. My need for cool air became constant. Some days I still feel odd about it, but I don’t fight it anymore.
If this is my menopause or perimenopause, it is not so bad.

If someone had told me years ago that I’d one day enjoy the cold, I would have laughed. Now I step into it with less resistance. And when I can’t sleep, I don’t think twice. I run the bath, cool the room, and reset.

Thanks to Jason Edmunds.

This article is solely for informational purposes and represents the writer’s personal opinion. Please seek professional advice if required.

Find your stage on RESONATES. Touch hearts, inspire minds and find comfort that you are not alone. Write with us. Read the submission guidelines here.

If This Is Menopause, I’ll Take It was originally published in RESONATES on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.