two are better
In our living room, Josh and Riley stand side-by-side, she, with her hair yanked up in a high ponytail, yanked, like she suddenly does when her mind can’t be distracted by something like errant strands of hair tickling her cheeks, and he, with his face completely open, ready and waiting for whatever I introduce. They hold hands lightly, their fingers linked loosely between them, and I can’t help but think they look more natural this way, connected. I think maybe it’s the peace they feel when they’re together that visibly smooths and softens their expressions, their body language, and with it, a certainty they share, solid and strong, that they’re better together than apart.
Two are better than one, wise Solomon wrote, for they have a good return for their work.
“When you have your own place someday,” I start, because they have goals for someday, “you’ll have to clean it.”
They nod at once, together, accepting this without comment or complaint, listening, waiting, ready.
As parents, Camille and Ray and Kevin and I are pioneering pre-marital training for our two differently-abled young adults. We stand before the Lord a bit like Josh and Riley stand before me now, our faces open, our bodies ready. We’re not making it up as we go along; we’re moving where we see God moving, because He already knows where this unconventional byway goes. In twenty years, if you ask me to boil it all down to one essential step, I’ll still tell you the thing God keeps saying to me now, lean not on your own understanding; I’ll still tell you how it’s always been Him making the path straight.
Right now, the road ahead of us looks stretched out and practical, so practical Josh and Riley literally practice week after week the things many typical couples fight about in the first year. We’re teaching them what marriage means in tangible ways they can see and touch, and they’re teaching us.
Josh says, “My mom said that same thing.” He flattens his empty hand against his chest as he speaks. “She said, ‘When you’re married, nobody’s going to clean up for you.’”
“Exactly. So, how often would you say you’ll need to clean the bathrooms?” I gesture behind me, to the bathroom, where I’m about to remind them of the basics both have learned and practiced for a while.
They glance at each other quickly and then start talking at the same time.
“Every week,” one half says. “Every other week at least,” the other half finishes. Already, they tend to talk like one person instead of two.
“Yes,” I agree readily. “Every week is great. Every other week is a must.”
Again, they nod, waiting. I know very few people who enjoy bathroom cleaning chores, so I watch their faces, looking for signs of reluctance or dismissal, but they look almost…eager. Riley smiles and erupts into a cheerful chuckle, and Josh glances her way and smiles.
“So, both of you already know how to clean a bathroom,” I say, pressing on, “but let’s clean this one together for a little review.”
“Hold up,” Josh says, extending his empty hand, still grinning. “You know what I was just thinking? We get to do this together!” He lifts Riley’s hand, slipping his fingers through hers in a sure grip.
“Yes, we do, Josh Bell Jones,” Riley agrees, with her usual cheer. She always calls him by all three names, and it makes me think of him walking down a dusty street wearing chaps and a cowboy hat with a shiny silver star on his chest. I imagine her old and wrinkled, still holding his hand, still addressing him by every affectionate name that describes him. By then, she’ll have added a few more.
“See, I always have to clean the bathroom alone at home,” Josh continues, gaining momentum. He’s like a street preacher winding up to a climax, moving his free hand in front of him in the air. “But when we’re married, we get to clean it together. Don’t have to clean the bathroom alone anymore.”
“It’ll be fun,” Riley says, matching his smile with one of her own, eyes glistening with adoration as she looks at him.
Suddenly, I understand why I see no reluctance at all on either of their faces. They already know what has taken me years to learn, that the best return of any shared task is the privilege of collaboration. In teaching the church, Paul called us sunergos, co-laborers, reminding us that every contribution is essential because it’s God’s plan that many hands must touch the work. Not only do we co-labor with each other, we get to co-labor with Christ. In my life, I’ve often focused my attention on the work while neglecting the with.
“Exactly,” I tell them, moving toward the bathroom, a smile on my face for God, who has persisted, in a thousand different ways and for many years, to teach me that the relationship is the reward, and who right now seems intent on showing me yet again, through the open faces and clasped hands and wise words of these two beautiful people.
“Two are better than one,” I repeat aloud, though more for me than for them, as a prayer, and as they follow me, I hear one of them, probably Josh, softly murmur, “I know that’s right.”
