Fix Yourselves, Not Each Other

Photo by Adi Goldstein on Unsplash

If you’re struggling in a relationship, then listen up. That road is never an easy one under the best of circumstances, so stop believing the lie that it is only right if it’s easy. News flash:

If your relationship is so easy you can’t believe it, then don’t believe it.

Successful relationships take work by both parties. Unsuccessful ones, too, but mostly the work being done in those is of the finger-pointing variety. 

Oh, that is hard work too, you know. Especially when the result is endless fighting that not only saps your physical strength, but also your very soul. Focusing on others might save you the trouble of taking a hard look at yourself, but solving your internal issues is ultimately much more rewarding.

Emotional immaturity and intellectual dishonesty go hand-in-hand. Simply put, operating in a space where everyone else is always wrong and you are always right is both juvenile and untrue. Is your ego really so important that you are willing to alienate others and set yourself up to repeatedly fail?

“But, but…my parents made me the way I am!”

This statement is simply more finger-pointing. I used to tell this lie too, but I had to come to a place in my life where I acknowledged — with complete honesty — that everything I do in adulthood is on my bill. We can’t control the circumstances of our birth or the way we were raised, but as adults we must take control of what we become.

When we enter into relationships with others, we have to recognize that they have their faults and we have ours. If what you require from another is perfection, then prepare to be disappointed. And blame yourself when that happens. When you place unrealistic expectations on someone else, they will always fail to reach them. 

If you have been through a number of failed relationships, then consider the possible reasons why:

  1. You were simply with the wrong people. You can only know this for sure if you really know yourself, and if you really take the time to get to know them. Many relationships start out hot because of physical attraction/chemistry, common interests, or some other shared characteristic, only to fizzle out once you do the actual work of getting to know each other. When you rush through that process to get to the good stuff, you forget that the potentially bad stuff matters, too.
  2. You were simply the wrong person. You’ve been hurt. You had a bad model for adulthood when you were a child. You didn’t show the real you to the other person, so they were fooled. Whatever the reason, you simply didn’t treat the other person the way they needed or deserved to be treated.
  3. You have unresolved pain still holding you back. As I mentioned before, successful relationships take hard work. The hardest part of this hard work is addressing your own issues and resolving them without making them someone else’s problem. Whatever you happen to be dragging through life, just know that this person likely didn’t cause it. So don’t punish them for it.
  4. You did something in this relationship to create the problem. If trust is an issue in your relationship–and you caused it–then admit your fault and do whatever is necessary to heal that division. And don’t decide for both of you what that process and the timeline should be. You did the crime, so do the time. That doesn’t mean surrendering to an eternity of penance or allowing them to chisel you into something you are not, but it does mean that you owe that person the effort it takes to regain their trust and adoration.
  5. They did something to create the problem, and you refuse to forgive them. We have all done wrong things in our lives. We have all hurt someone else unnecessarily at some point. Don’t be the kind of person who willingly takes forgiveness while stubbornly withholding it yourself. Every person in every relationship will need grace at some point. The space to recover from a mistake and demonstrate contrition and a willingness to be better. Every person includes your partner.

You will never succeed in any relationship if you are the most important person in your own mind. If your feelings are all that matter to you — if what they do, say, think, or feel is all that should ever be held accountable in your mind — then prepare to fail.

Do you want to succeed? Then be what they need. Be the person to them that you want them to be to you. If you’re doing that and this still isn’t working, then you’re probably in the wrong relationship.

Just don’t assume you are because you refuse to do the work.

From Homeless to Angel

Photo by Matt Collamer on Unsplash

The man’s eyes darted around the room as he settled down at a table in the McDonald’s on St. Louis Boulevard. Every tiny sound made him jump, which was the only interruption to the constant shivering from deep in his bones. His fingerless gloves were the punchline to some cruel joke about avoiding frostbite; his tattered overcoat was a sieve for the unyielding frosty wind swirling just outside the door.

I asked where his home was and he favored me with an ironic grin. His food sat in front of him untouched as he pondered how to answer my question. At last, he plucked a steaming hot fry from its sleeve and considered it briefly before cramming it in his mouth.

“You mean right now?” he asked. “You’re looking at it. Home is wherever I am when someone asks.”

He told of walking most of the way from Kentucky to Arkansas to collect on what he believed was the promise of a job at a local horse farm. When he gave me the name of the person he spoke with, I suspected right away that something was not right with this story. After speaking with that person privately, it was confirmed that there was no job offer and I knew this situation had to be handled delicately.

I encountered dozens of indigent persons in my role as a police chaplain, but this encounter initially tripped my internal danger alarm. After making sure he was not a fugitive from justice, I arranged to give him shelter outside town for a couple of days. A local business donated some food vouchers, and the person he came to apply for a job with anonymously donated several hundred dollars to clothe him.

He set out on foot a couple of days later headed north. I got a call from him several months later and he reported that he was settled in Missouri — at a horse farm of course — and he had worked steadily for two months. He had a place to live, a little car to drive to and from work, and he was attending church. He needed one more favor from me, though.

“I never had anything in my life,” he said with a cracked voice. “I was homeless most of my life and wasn’t sure whether I should even keep living when I got to your town. Now I have a place to lay down at night, food to eat, and clothes to wear that I can be proud of. But there’s still something missing.”

I tensed as I tried to guess where this was headed. He choked back a sob and continued.

“Several people in your town showed me a kindness and generosity that no one else ever did,” he said. “I’ve always been the poor, dirty bum and most people wouldn’t give me a second look. Now that I have a solid job, I want to do something too. Can I send you some money to help the next person that wanders into town? It ain’t much, but I want to give what I can.”

I gave him a P.O. Box address, and three weeks later an envelope came that contained three $20 bills. That afternoon, I got another call from the Sheriff’s office that someone needed help.

Thankfully, I had an angel to help this new person get started.

My Dog Gets It. Why Don’t We?

Photo by Author.

I never contemplated having another dog. My previous foray into that did not go well; I adopted two rescue dogs during my time in Puerto Rico that were completely unteachable. When it was time to move back to the continental U.S., I found good homes for both and wished their new families bueno suerte as I backed out of their driveways.

Maxwell came to us through somewhat extraordinary means. His lifelong momma was no longer able to care for him, so she asked for help on Facebook in re-homing him. I don’t know why, but something about his face moved us to act.

With no more information than his age and basic diet, allergy, and activity stuff, we set out from New Jersey to meet our new son in Virginia.

. . .

Maxwell’s original momma told us he was a beagle, but I could tell right away that he was that and then some. From the second I laid eyes on the live-action version of this guy, I knew right away that he was a brick house of a beast.

I wondered if his mom’s accounting of his disposition was accurate — everyone thinks their kids and pets are God’s gift to the world — but he broke the ice between us immediately. He sauntered over to me, sniffed me up and down, and nuzzled his head up under my dangling hand.

“Hello, human. Pet me, and we’ll be just fine.”

As we prepared to turn the car back north and drive Maxwell to his new home, his outgoing mom gave us one last piece of advice.

“He’s never spent much time in cars,” she said. “Make sure you never roll the windows down, or he’ll jump out and run away.”

We followed all advice she gave us for about a week before discovering that there were many layers to this beast that had yet to peel away. As we discovered the real Max, we began to learn about ourselves.

. . .

My wife’s surgery went fine, but it was extremely invasive and promised a long, daunting recovery period. I was only able to take a week off from work post-op, so I had to leave her each day with our new four-legged nurse.

We were still feeling out what life would be like with a 12-year-old dog who presumably was set in his ways, so I was nervous about leaving them alone at first. My wife wasn’t going to be able to get around, play with him, feed him, walk him, etc., so I called home about every hour to check on them. I knew after that first day that we had a gem on our hands.

“He’s just been nuzzling up to me and licking my hand,” she said. “He seems to be a very nurturing soul.”

Through the craziness of catching up at work and worrying about my wife’s health following her surgery, I learned — from a dog I barely knew — how easy it is to just simply be there for someone. Yes, the things I did physically for my wife mattered, but just being there for her emotionally during this time was probably more important than anything else.

. . .

We will never forget that trip to Vermont. Maxwell had more than settled in with the Vaughn family by this point, so we decided to take a little weekend trip to our home away from home. We loaded the trunk of our car with all of Max’s creature comforts — his doggy bed, his favorite dog food, his retractable walking leash — and off we went.

We were maybe 12 miles up the New Jersey turnpike when he began whimpering in the back seat. Usually, that means he needs to answer the call of nature, so I picked the best horrible place to pull off on the turnpike.

He pranced around in the grass on the side of the highway for a few minutes, and he managed to tinkle a little on a fallen branch, but nothing about this stop indicated that he was in dire straits. I ushered him back into the car and we resumed our journey.

Immediately, he began whimpering again. My wife and I looked at each other, and she suggested I roll his window down a little so he could get some air. Immediately, he rose up on his hind legs, balanced his front paws against the door in the back seat, and began frantically sniffing at the air coming in through his slightly opened window.

On a whim, I decided to roll his window down as far as it could go. He lunged forward, shot his entire head out the window, and rode like that for the next 300 miles. The one time I tried to roll his window back up (we were getting cold), he immediately started groaning, whining, and growling deep in his throat. Only a fully-opened window would silence him.

From that time forward, he begs us for car rides now every afternoon — usually around 4 p.m. He has decided he cannot live without the wind in his face, and he doesn’t care how cold, hot, wet, or dry it is outside.

Maxwell has taught us to enjoy the simplest of pleasures. He has inspired us to find that proverbial “wind in our faces” and accept no less in life. Because of this dog, we have resolved to spend a little of each day finding the little joys in life and making them a non-negotiable part of our existence.

. . .

We went a little overboard with him for a while. We never fed him table scraps or, really, any human food, but we also didn’t exercise him much. He is severely prone to allergies and he’s older than dirt for a dog, so we just let him run around the back yard a little. We figured that would suffice for activity.

A couple of months ago, I took him to the vet for his periodic allergy checkup. She weighed him, sighed deeply, and asked me to sit down.

“This pup is way too heavy,” she said. “He needs to be way less…dog…than he is.”

She suggested that we walk him more. I shared my concern about his age, but she assured me that he would be okay with regular walks. In fact, she thought it might actually prolong his life to weigh less and get his blood moving more.

We decided to not just walk him, but also to subtly adjust his diet. Rather than fill his bowl up every time it was empty, we only filled it once in the morning and once mid-afternoon.

We decided to adjust our diets as well. Between that and walking him 2.5–3 miles a day, we have all lost weight. Max is down 10 lbs. and more energetic than any 14-year-old dog should be, and my wife and I are both in the best shape we’ve been in for some time.

Maxwell taught us that taking proper care of him is important, but so is taking proper care of ourselves. As a family, we have all reaped the benefits of doing the right thing for each other.

Selfie by Author with Maxwell

We have only had Maxwell for a little over a year, but he is so deeply in our hearts that it seems he’s always been a part of us. He has brought comfort, joy, and a sense of calm to our lives through some tough situations. He is our glue.

We know that Maxwell’s remaining years are few at this point, and it will be hard when we eventually lose him. He will leave a physical void that will be tough to overcome.

Fortunately, though, he will leave us with something that could never be replaced. He will leave us with some life lessons that we will carry with us for our remaining years.

Blog at

Up ↑