Twelve Years Later: Love That Survives the Shaking

This weekend, my husband and I celebrate twelve years of marriage.

Twelve years of laughter, babies, prayers, disappointments, healing, forgiveness, inside jokes, hard conversations, and grace upon grace.

And when I think about our marriage now, I don’t picture perfection.

I picture a broken jar. Here’s why…

When we got married, instead of lighting a unity candle, we poured layers of colored sand into a glass jar. One by one, we took turns adding tiny pebbles and grains of sand as a symbol that our lives were becoming forever intertwined. The idea was simple but meaningful: once combined, those layers could never truly be separated again.

At first, the jar looked beautiful. The lines were straight, clean, and perfectly distinct.

But over the years, life shook it.

Moves. Stress. Parenting. Miscommunication. Financial pressure. Losses. Change. Exhaustion. Unexpected blessings. Ordinary Tuesdays. Sacred moments. All of it slowly shifted the once-perfect layers into something uneven and wavy.

And honestly? Marriage looks a lot like that.

When we stand at the altar, we often imagine love will always feel polished and pristine. But biblical love was never defined by perfection.  1 Corinthians 13:4-7 says love “always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

Perseverance implies pressure.
Hope implies disappointment.
Trust implies vulnerability.
Protection implies something worth fighting for.

Real love isn’t proven in the easy moments. It’s revealed in the shaking.

Over the last twelve years, I’ve learned that some of the most beautiful parts of our marriage were formed in seasons I never would have chosen. The moments when we had to cling tightly to God and to each other. The moments when we didn’t have perfect answers but chose to stay anyway.

Because love that survives hardship becomes deeper than love untouched by struggle.

And struggle I did when I broke the jar completely.

I had asked my husband multiple times to swap out a wreath hanging high in our living room. Eventually, determined to prove I didn’t need help, I climbed a ladder with a broom handle and attempted to do it myself.

It actually worked… until the old wreath slid down the broomstick and crashed directly into our wedding sand jar.

Glass exploded across the floor. Colored sand scattered everywhere. And suddenly, our symbol of unity looked ruined.

But in the middle of the mess, I noticed something incredible: The only things left intact were the rocks at the bottom of the jar.

When we created the jar on our wedding day, those rocks represented God—the foundation beneath our marriage. And standing there barefoot in the middle of broken glass and spilled sand, I realized something I didn’t fully understand twelve years ago:

Everything else in life can shift, but the foundation matters most.

“Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer. From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”
— Psalm 61:2

Marriage will get shaken. People will fail each other. Expectations will crack. Seasons will stretch us thin. Love will sometimes look less like romance and more like choosing faithfulness when feelings fluctuate.

But God remains unmoved.
The Rock stayed when the glass shattered.

And honestly, isn’t that the story of the Gospel too?

Not that we hold everything together perfectly, but that Christ holds us together when everything falls apart.

Over twelve years, I’ve learned this: strong marriages are not built by avoiding hardship. They are built by continually returning to the Rock beneath them.

So today, when I look back on twelve years with my husband, I no longer mourn the perfectly straight layers we started with. I love the messy ones more.

Because every shifted line tells the story of a God who sustained us through every season. Every uneven layer reminds me that love is not fragile because it’s been shaken—it’s stronger because it survived.

And maybe your life looks a little like that too.

Maybe the layers feel messy. Maybe something precious feels cracked. Maybe your relationships don’t look as polished as you hoped they would.

But take heart: God has never been intimidated by broken pieces.

He is still building beautiful things from surrendered lives. He is still steady when everything else shifts.

And love—real, Christ-centered, persevering love—still never fails.

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Journaling Prompt
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If your relationships were represented by layers in a jar, what would those layers contain? Write about the moments that shaped your story—the beautiful memories, the painful seasons, the times things felt shaken, and the ways God remained faithful through it all.

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Reflection Questions
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1. How has your understanding of love changed through hardship or time?
2. What “shaken” season has deepened one of your relationships the most?
3. Why do you think Holy Bible connects love with perseverance?
4. What does it mean to you personally that God is described as a Rock?
5. Are there broken or messy places in your life that God may actually be using to strengthen your faith and relationships?

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Prayer
Lord,

Thank You for being the steady foundation beneath every season of our lives. Thank You for the relationships You’ve entrusted to us and for the ways You sustain us when life feels shaken. Help us to love the way You describe in Scripture—with patience, perseverance, trust, hope, and grace. When things feel broken, remind us that You are still the Rock beneath our feet. Teach us to stop chasing perfect lives and instead cling to Your faithful presence through every messy, beautiful layer of our story.

​Amen.

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This month, we’re slowing down to talk honestly about the beauty, weight, stretching, joy, and identity-shaping journey of being a mother. Not the polished version. The real one.

Our blogs will be based out of Kaley Rivera Thompson’s devotional, Matrimony, Motherhood and Me. 

To follow along, grab a copy or a few on Amazon.