The fragile courtesy

Faith is more than a fire. Sometimes it is embers. Sometimes the night is so dark and so long that the quiet glow of three coals is all you have in the corner of a room that feels like a cage. 
- Jon Acuff, It's Not All Fire

Jon Acuff, author of the long-running and incredibly insightful website Stuff Christians Like, posted that today in an article about faith. And it resonated with me.

Not just about faith, but about marriage, too.

Marriage does not always burn bright and cheerful. Sometimes it is cold, grey and lifeless. There are long nights of anger and silent days of resentment and bitterness. There are fights that strip every ounce of hope from the air and leave both parties gasping and broken. Sometimes even reconciliation is only a fragile courtesy, a delicate balance of insincerity eager to break down.

I feel stuck in that fragile courtesy right now. A tight rope walker high in the sky, holding onto the gleaming pole of "we're alright" so tightly that it crumples, revealing the shocking truth that what I thought was silver was aluminum foil all along. There are safety nets below, and I've fallen into them before, but it's a comfort that's temporary. Once I tumble out of the net there's the long climb back up to the wire. On the way up there's the advice of books, sites, friends, family, counselors. It's easy to smile and nod and say "We're good. We're great. I got this!" but fear still grips my heart as I reach the top. The fear of stepping out onto a wire that's frayed and weak. Or worse, reaching the top and realizing the wire had been cut long ago, leaving nothing between me and the distant figure waiting on the other end.

"We gotta know it'll last, it'll last a lifetime...." (Seabird) 

But how?