There was mold on the siding and the dented garage door had a broken window. Weeds towered mockingly above the overgrown grass. Shrubs choked each other while vines snarled their bony fingers around whatever they could grasp. This did not bode well for the inside of the house. Of all the homes our realtor showed us, this was a fixer-upper. We've fixed up enough houses in our day, we'd told her, to not be scared off by the prospect of a little elbow grease. It was in our price range, in a good neighborhood, three bedrooms, two baths, good square footage, and in the right school district, so why not have a look?

The inside was shockingly dirty: Stains on the carpet, walls, and door frames, thick grime along the baseboards, smeared windows, a greasy film covering the slats on closet doors, tile, fan blades, cabinets, and shelves, a stale stench hung in the air, and disrepair at every turn. I just wanted to get out and breathe fresh air, and wash my hands. The work needed here was way beyond our ken, energy level, and finances. The house needed gutted. But how did this happen? How could the owners let a nice house in a bucolic, middle class neighborhood go to pot? It got me thinking... This house was a reflection of the marriage it contained.

Caring for a home, just as caring for a marriage, can be tedious. For both, a number of necessary things must be accomplished each day to keep them running smoothly. Both take hard work. Sure, I get sick of wiping up crumbs, vacuuming along the baseboards, cleaning dried dog slobber off the storm door, calling a repairman when things break - and paying for it, or fixing them myself. Yes, there have been many times I'd rather read a book than listen to how my husband's day went or go out with girlfriends rather than sit at home. Housework is not really that fun. Communicating about bills, debt, jobs, who needs new tennis shoes, whose turn it is to take out the trash, and other real life issues is not that fun, either. Maintenance, in both cases, is a choice. Perhaps in that fixer-upper there were arguments about roles: Whose job is it to clean, weed, do small repairs? Perhaps the owners were too busy to maintain their home, and their marriage.  Maybe they just didn't care anymore. A house, just as a marriage, can be a beautiful thing; a place of comfort, shelter, and stability, a place to run to, to care for, and relish. Hard work carries a hefty pay-off. My husband and I have enjoyed the fruits of our labor for sixteen years.

The house we put an offer on was sturdy, bright, clean, and well-maintained. Someone took the time to hand-paint fetching murals on several walls. The lawn boasts a plush, emerald carpet and, in the backyard, care was taken to plant and maintain a lovely garden. This is where we want to put down new roots. This is the structure we choose to house and reflect our marriage.

Note: In his book, The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work, John Gottman calls his approach "The Sound Marital House".