People love to quote the 10,000-hour rule. Put in enough focused, deliberate practice and, boom, you’re an expert. Mastery unlocked. According to the math, after 32+ years of marriage (roughly 281,000 hours, but who’s counting), I should be a black-belt husband with framed certificates and a TED Talk.
I can assure you that I am not.
In fact, I can say with complete confidence that I am no more an expert today than I was as a year one husband who thought listening and fixing were the same thing. Marriage, it turns out, does not reward time served. It rewards presence, humility, and a willingness to admit you still have no idea what she wants for dinner.
Over the decades, we’ve had one rule that has carried us through everything:
We can never be weak at the same time.
When one of us is scared, the other steadies the room. When one is hurt, the other absorbs the weight. When one is unsure, the other stands firm.
Sometimes that strength looks like advice. Sometimes it looks like silence. Sometimes it’s just sitting there, holding a hand, saying nothing at all.
That rule has survived moments far bigger than us. We’ve welcomed children and grandchildren into the world together. We’ve buried parents side by side. We’ve walked through seasons where joy was loud and seasons where it barely whispered. And through all of it, we learned something important: strength in marriage isn’t dominance, it’s timing and life is about timing.
There are still days I don’t know what to get her for her birthday or Christmas. There are nights I ask what she wants for dinner and immediately regret opening my mouth. There are moments I’m so angry I don’t want to speak, yet I know, without question, I don’t want a single day without her.
That’s the part no rule book teaches.
She is my best friend and my confidant. She’s the one who knows my worst and still chooses me. I’ve lived that truth for over thirty years, but it took on a different kind of weight when I stood at my son’s wedding. Looking at him and his wife, I raised a glass and toasted them during my speech. “You don’t marry the person you can live with; you marry the person you simply cannot live without.”
So my wish for you, in the years ahead, through success and setbacks, wins and losses, is simple:
May you always take turns being strong. May you never be weak at the same time. And may you always be each other’s best friend.