Is it possible to stay happily married for 10 or 20 years? Or even longer than that?
I’ve been thinking about that recently, as my husband Ben and I celebrated our 20th anniversary.
We shared the breakfast table at an exceptional B&B with newlywed couples, people who were just like us when we started.
The time between being the newlyweds—asking the long-married couples around us, “how did you do it?”—and being the older couple offering advice has flown by.
While my husband and I were celebrating our second honeymoon in the rainforests of Puerto Rico, I got word that Jeff Moore recently got married (congratulations, Jeff and Danieta!).
Jeff being Jeff, the first question he had for me was, “how did you do it?”
Well, my friend, here’s how:
1. Have faith you will meet that person.
At 22, I was holiday shopping with my mom when she found a rack of Hanes briefs for men.
“Oh,” she said, “stop here for a minute with me—your dad needs new underwear.
I’ll get him some for Christmas.”
She shopped so casually, so lovingly, for the man who’d been in her life for decades.
Watching her, I felt a kind of longing.
I’d just emerged from the latest of my short-term relationships; I was lonely and worried about the future.
“Mom… what if I never get to buy underwear for somebody?”
I asked her, my voice low and sad in the high-pitched holiday fervor of Jordan Marsh in the 90s.
Mom stopped, put down her stack of skivvies for Dad, and took my hand.
“It’ll happen for you.”
“But how do you know?”
“I just do. Enjoy your single time.
It won’t last long.” Mom gave my hand a quick squeeze and, businesslike, resumed shopping.
My mom never lied; something in her look communicated safety and faith in the future.
So I did. I relaxed and enjoyed my single time.
One day, while pursuing that enjoyment, I found myself at a dear friend’s weekend-long, lakeside graduation party.
I felt the Earth move as I shook hands with the man who would become my husband.
At that point, I was 24, and my relatives worried I’d be an old maid forever! But not Mom.
In her mind, the timing was probably just about perfect.
2. When you get married, understand you move into a glass house.
While performing in my high school production of Godspell, I first paid attention to and understood the line “let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”
But evidently, the message didn’t sink in.
Once I got married, I began delivering lectures on compelling issues like those dirty dishes that never made it into the dishwasher.
I felt virtuous about how great I always am because I put my dishes straight in.
Until Ben pointed out that while I’m great at that, I’m always leaving junk mail all over the dining room table… impulsively planting invasive species into the garden… or sticking laundry in the washing machine, forgetting about it.
I looked around and noticed that I have a lot of small foibles like that.
These little things that get in the way create friction and make it difficult to feel that you have a happy marriage every day.
Remembering that I have my pain-in-the-ass things, just as Ben does, makes me mindful of hurting feelings.
If I’m going to live in the glasshouse of marriage, I need to be careful about stone-throwing.
3. Staying happily married is as simple as smiling in line at the grocery store.
One day early, Ben and I waited to pay for our groceries.
We stood in a long line at the end of a long day for both of us, and I was cranky.
I scowled, I complained, I whined, “how long are we going to stand here?!”
The lines were so long… my feet were tired… you know the drill.
Weary of my tirade, Ben asked me: “would you mind smiling instead of complaining?
I’m looking around at all these unhappy people, and I don’t know their problems.
But I know that when you smile, I feel better—so could you please maybe do that?”
Ben’s question changed not just our marriage but how I interact with the world.
I have a choice in what I communicate to others: I can be grumpy or pleasant—and what I choose makes a difference to those around me.
To this day, I smile in line at the grocery store.
I speak cheerfully to my kids, the cashier, and the person bagging my groceries.
When people smile back, a small connection takes us all out of the daily grind for a moment.
4. Get a book light.
Between Ben and me, one of us goes to bed to sleep—and one goes to bed to read before sleeping.
This created genuine problems when we started sharing the same bed.
This is why, at my bridal shower, my mom gave me this newfangled thing: a Book Light.
You cannot imagine the arguments this has saved us!
I read until it’s insanely late each night, and Ben sleeps.
A marriage saved!
Find your book light moment. Sometimes, just a simple change can help you solve a problem.
The choice isn’t always “stop doing something that annoys someone else or keep doing it.”
Be creative and be open to choices.
5. Everyone fights, even in happy marriages.
It is how you do it that is important.
It was summer, and the kids (ages eight and four) were spending an entire week at “Camp Grandma.”
We’ve never had so much time to ourselves!
We sat across from each other at dinner on the first night of this excessive freedom.
The candles were lit, cloth napkins were placed on the table, and romantic music played.
Of course, we got into an epic fight—about all things—merit pay for teachers.
We were so angry that we stomped away from the table.
We are heading to our chief home domains: Ben to the garage and me to the kitchen.
Hot tears slid down my face. At first, they were tears of righteous indignation—how could he be so stupid?
But soon, they changed to tears of shame.
I mean, who gives a crap about merit pay for teachers?
Is this issue more important than a happy marriage—more important than my Ben?
Just as I was heading down the stairs to take back my angry words, he was heading up the stairs to do the same thing.
We met and hugged each other on the landing, each apologizing and assuring the other: you are WAY more important than merit pay for teachers.
6. Recognize how lucky you are.
I tried on the perfect engagement ring long before we thought about marriage.
That July, I was 25, in an antique store in New Hampshire, with my mother, my sister-in-law, and Ben.
They stood around as I slipped on this beautiful ring.
It fit perfectly, symbolizing the easy and wonderful marriage I could have with this gentle, kind, handsome man.
The universe waved to me, shouting: “Hey! Now’s the time!”
I gazed at my intended eyes shining with the moment’s joy—to see the color drained from Ben’s face.
He staggered outside, sinking on a bench, obviously overcome by the idea of marrying me.
I realized it just wasn’t going to happen.
My boyfriend’s taciturnity during the rest of that trip confirmed this.
Also, he was never away from me long enough to possibly return and get that ring.
Or, so I thought.
When Ben proposed the following December—during the first winter snowfall, on one knee, in the woods—he placed that ring into my hand.
Each time I look at it sparkling on my finger, as I’ve done countless times over these 20 years, I again feel how lucky I am.
All the moments that make up a happy marriage matter
Sometimes, I still get goosebumps thinking about his proposal.
I get goosebumps also, remembering the feeling of shaking his hand for the first time.
Looking back over 20 years of a happy marriage, I cannot escape the feeling of extreme gratitude to a universe that placed me in Ben’s path on the day we met so long ago.
Our meeting, courtship, and proposal make up our love story.
So does the time we fought about teachers and their wages.
Big moments like the births of our children or losing other loved ones shaped our lives.
Spending 20 years with someone will be filled with good and bad moments.
Happy times, sad times, and downright hard times, too.
That is life.
Each moment matters in your marriage because it gives you a chance to bond with your partner or learn a lesson.
Use those to make the next 20 years even better than the last 20!