It’s impossible to argue with my wife, Marilyn, but not for the reasons you may assume. She never tries to out-argue me or overpower me with her viewpoint. I don’t know how to say it any other way than this: she simply refuses to argue. She won’t waste her energy on an argument. She doesn’t stomp off mad or even become disdainful. I’ve tried for years to engage her in a good old fashioned battle of opinions, but I’ve come to the conclusion that she just doesn’t have it in her. She simply won’t argue.
Marilyn comes from a long line of gentle-natured people who have never considered argumentation a method adults should employ. To her, argumentation is akin to violence, and there is not a modicum of violence in her. She quietly states how she feels and then patiently listens while I tell her what she ought to think… to which she either agrees or disagrees. It’s debilitating, really!
I came from a long line of professional arguers. I have vivid memories of sitting on my grandparents’ Garfield Avenue front porch, listening as they argued about the weather, or what day it was, or who said what to whom. It was an Olympic sport! I specifically remember the afternoon Grandpa whacked a fly with his ubiquitous fly swatter and the two of them argued for an hour about whether it was the same fly Grandma had already swatted. You think I’m kidding, don’t you! I’m as serious as a heart attack!
I was sired from that blood line; it’s part of my pedigree. My brothers and I managed to sustain a sequence of petty arguments throughout our siblinghood together. Arguing was as natural as breathing at our house. “Hey, I called that chair!” “Did not!” “Did too!” It’s really no surprise, that after having been raised in the midst of such clever repartee, I’ve become a public speaker and writer.
When Marilyn and I were first married, I naively assumed she wouldn’t argue because she realized I was just too clever for her. I assumed she simply conceded to my rapier wit and quick mind. The problem was, I found myself unable to make good decisions without the aid of an argument. Marilyn’s mild-mannered nature coupled with her absolute refusal to argue left me ill-equipped to make good decisions. (I knew I’d figure out a way to make my bad decisions her fault!)
Fortunately for both of us, Marilyn has been wise enough to allow me room to believe I’m right, even when I’m wrong. She is much more assertive now than when we were first married… but then, I am much less certain about myself. After 42 years of being right—but seldom wise—I’m beginning to figure it out. I’ve discovered that the very things I thought were my strengths actually exposed my weaknesses. I guess I’ve finally figured out why she always allowed me to be right: it’s the only way I could be proved wrong… and she’s never had to say, “I told you so.” She’s actually quite cunning!
Marilyn let me think I was right because she knew I’d have to find out the hard way I was wrong.
“Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.” 1 Corinthians 13:4-7
God deals with me the same way Marilyn does. He has given me this thing theologians call “free will.” He’s always there to offer His opinion, but He does it with a whisper instead of a shout. He lets me make my own choices and deal with the consequences. He offers forgiveness when I’m bullheaded, and somehow manages to turn even the worst of my messes into a message of grace.
I’m grateful both Marilyn and the Lord are so patient with me.
Read Ron’s column, Simple Faith, each Saturday on the Faith Page (page 3) of the Lancaster Eagle Gazette, or visit www.lancastereaglegazette.com.