Alright, Friends,

Pull up a chair, kick your shoes off, and let’s talk real life, real marriage, and the inside jokes that keep us from filing paperwork or ending up on SNAPPED.

Here’s the hope I want to share with you: stick around.
Not because it’s easy. Not because you always feel “happy.” But because there is something holy, hilarious, and deeply grounding about choosing each other again and again when life is loud.

I know when you’re in the thick of it, it feels like you’re carrying the whole load. One lady shared with me, “I love my husband, but I feel like a single mom because he’s always working.” And I get it. Providing is love. So is showing up. Somewhere between carpool, practices, deadlines, and dinner that nobody appreciates, we stop being a team and start being coworkers who forgot why they were hired.

Here’s the part we don’t like to admit:
We are pulled in many directions… but some of this? We’re doing to ourselves.

We have to ask the hard question: Why is this important?
Is it about development—or water-cooler bragging rights about the D1 school our kid might attend one day? Because let’s be honest, youth sports travel has gotten out of control. You’d be better off saving that money for their future car insurance. But that’s a sermon for another Sunday.

Back to couples.

If you team up and schedule your alone time—once a week, once a month, whatever season allows—your kids will witness something strong and healthy. And they are always watching.

My son gave me one of the biggest compliments of my life. He said, “Mom, I overheard some girls talking, and I walked away thinking I want a woman like my mom — someone who helps her husband and is a partner.”
Y’all. I was stunned. I almost choked on my coffee. He said, “You and Dad balance each other.” Daddy is laid back and you are all over the place (I personally like to call myself adventurous, but okay all over the place is another way of putting it)
That’s what he’s seen. Not perfection. Partnership.

I told him the secret isn’t magic. It’s:

It doesn’t have to be fancy… although I do love a good steakhouse. But it can be walking the beach, exploring random stores, or finding a hole-in-the-wall restaurant that makes you question your taste buds. The goal is longevity—and remembering what drew you together in the first place.

Yes, it might’ve started with good looks.
But let me tell you, when you’re tired and your eyes are blurry, everyone looks like a monster when the trash hasn’t been taken out.

My husband has a very dry sense of humor and is a no fuss kind of guy. My humor? Is inappropriate and for shock value. I love catching him off guard. I love to go on adventures and drag him with me. We love sharing our inside jokes in front of people and playing footsy underneath the table. That’s marriage.

We’ll be married 22 years this year. And from where I’m standing, I want 22 × 22 more with this man. Because there’s something sacred about someone knowing you so well they can tell when you need a hug without you saying a word—and knowing everything about you and still choosing you on your off days.

I’ve watched couples divorce, only to end up in the same mess—just with a shinier new coin or maybe thats just the new boobs. Because here’s the truth: the honeymoon phase always ends. Real life clocks in. And that’s where the good stuff actually lives… if you stay long enough to find it.

What they never get to experience are the pet names. The ones that make absolutely no sense to anyone else but somehow warm your heart. The names you’d never explain at work because HR would have questions.

My husband calls me “woman.”
“Come here, woman.”
“I love you, woman.”
“Woman, where did you put my keys?”

Is it slightly questionable? Maybe. Do I love belonging to him? Absolutely.

I call him “my handsome”—or “daddy,” depending on the mood and the audience. Context matters.

These aren’t words you put on Instagram. These are the quiet, everyday things you hold close. The inside jokes. The language only the two of you speak. The stuff that shows you’ve lived some life together.

That’s the part people miss when they trade history for newness. They miss the shorthand. The comfort. The names that don’t need explaining because they were earned.

And that’s where the real intimacy lives—long after the butterflies calm down and the trash still needs to be taken out.

Lesson learned:
Don’t quit before the inside jokes get good.
Fix the root, not the partner.
Choose each other on purpose.

Scripture to hold onto:

“Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.” — 1 Peter 4:8

Translation: love covers trash, laundry, unmet expectations, dry humor, loud chewing, and questionable sounds effects.

Hang in there, my friends. The struggle season doesn’t mean the story is over. Sometimes it just means the punchline is coming.

From Your Friend, It’s me Lorie