The Good. The Bad. My Baby. — Peyton Garland
“I think a newlywed blog could be a good starter post! And all the changes y’all have been through together in the first 3 years of marriage,” my dear friend Toto (Tori, Tori Jane, etc.) brainstormed.
So, here we are. A starter post. A starter blog. The sort of thing that’s never been my thing because I prefer extremes—gimme the quippy, two-sentence blurb for Instagram or let me write my own Jesus version of Moby Dick. Maybe I’ll call it Moby Jonah. (Holding off on that one for now.)
Meanwhile, a blog finds me in the middle, or rather, forces me in the middle. It calls me to navigate the Area 51 of word counts, storylines, and meta descriptions. And as a self-proclaimed perfectionist, mental health advocate, and skeptic of modern church culture, I’m not a fan of the in between.
Things should be short or long, accepted or denied, heaven worthy or hell bound. Plain and simple.
Yet, Jesus prefers to navigate the gray spaces, the in-between landscapes, where sin and grace both show up. And one of His favorite ways to nudge me in this messy zone is marriage.
Oh, marriage. I’m not gonna lie, I haven’t done the thing long enough to give you lasting advice.
How so? Because three years of Peyton Garland promising to put someone above herself has looked less like undying devotion and more like rolling my eyes at his business propositions, realizing I don’t actually like cleaning for two, and hiding his esteemed hair putty when I’m angry with him… mature, I know.
But marriage is the one aspect of my life where I must openly admit that I’m not perfect. I am no master, no Jedi, no GOAT. Zip. Nada. Nothing but flawed. Nothing but in the middle of good and bad, all while wondering if I’ll ever measure up to how well my baby loves me.
That’s not to say that marriage isn’t super fun, though. I mean, outside of moving four times in three years, living states apart for months at a clip (due to Josh’s flight career), me reading Cosmopolitan to figure out how to have sex, and forever fighting over the thermostat, there have been some beautiful, wild, fun moments. Moments that look like buying and renovating Bonnie BlueBird (our skoolie babe), adopting and loving on two of the worst but most wonderful pups ever, stepping on all four corners of the nation together, giving grace, taking grace, finding flowers, writing love notes, all the syrup sappy things.
And even better? From this good in marriage, I see more miracles than messes. From this bad in marriage, I recognize that Jesus is still so much cooler, calmer, and more collected than a husband. From this baby to whom I’m married, I see my big pile of flaws that aren’t swept under the rug or thrown in the hall closet but instead, recognized, forgiven, and then forgotten.
So while I still have zero marital advice for you outside of make Jesus part of casual car conversation and work through who’s doing whose laundry prior to vows, all I can say is this:
Marriage is good, bad, ugly, pretty, happy, angry, fuzzy, clear, flawed, redeemed, and all the things that make humans humans and make God God. And somewhere, smack dab in the middle, grace keeps extremes in check and gives you the freedom to say, “I’m sorry I hid your hair putty… I had no idea you had a meeting with your director today.”
Peyton Garland
Peyton Garland is an author who uses her OCD, disdain for legalism, and obsession with Jesus rap to showcase just how good God's goodness is. She's a wife and puppy momma who's on a constant journey to accept God's grace and her trial-and-error heart.
