The Sacred Yes: Building a Covenant in a Disposable World
In today’s world, we live in a culture of convenience. If a phone breaks, we trade it in. If a shirt tears, we toss it. If a gadget stops working perfectly, we find a newer, shinier version. Sadly, this "disposable" mindset has bled into our most sacred spaces, our marriages. We have begun to treat the most profound promise of our lives like a consumer contract with an entry-level escape clause, looking for the exit the moment things get "too hard" or "too different."
But marriage isn't a contract; it is a covenant. It is a promise made before God, family, and friends to love and cherish a person for a lifetime. It is a vow to build a life together, which is a far cry from simply "living alongside" someone until the sparks fade.
The Language of the Heart
My own journey toward a lifelong partnership began in a way many might call unconventional. I met my husband at a party, and we spent only a few hours talking that first night. There was a spark that couldn't be ignored, and after meeting the following week again, we haven't been apart since.
However, our connection faced a mountain right from the start: he didn't speak English, and my Spanish was limited to maybe thirty words. Early on, he sat me down for a conversation that changed the trajectory of our lives. He simply stated that if we were to have a real relationship, we had to be able to communicate. He admitted that learning English was incredibly difficult for him, and he asked me a life-altering question: Would I be willing to learn Spanish?
Because I had been fascinated by the language since I was a little girl, it was easy to grant the request. It was something I wanted to do, so saying "yes" felt natural. But as any married couple knows, the "easy yes" of the honeymoon phase eventually gives way to the "hard yes" of daily life. Communication isn't just about the words we speak; it is about the cultures, histories, and perspectives we carry with us.
The Puppy and the Perspective Shift
About seventeen years ago, we had been living in Honduras for about two and a half years. This was a season of massive transition. My husband was working as a security guard in a subdivision, checking cars and walking the perimeter. His schedule was grueling: six days on the day shift, then six days on the night shift, working twelve-hour stretches.
At the time, it was just the two of us. When he worked those long nights, the silence of the house felt heavy. I grew up in Middle Tennessee surrounded by life. We had dogs, cats, guinea pigs, frogs, lizards, turtles, cows, chickens, ducks, geese, and even pigs and horses at one point. To me, a house isn't a home without the heartbeat of a pet.
My husband, however, came from a different world. In his experience, a dog wasn't a family member; it was an object or a tool. He didn't have the urge to have a pet, and he certainly didn't see them as companions. But I was lonely and, frankly, I felt insecure being by myself in a house at night. I asked him for a dog, and though it went against his grain, he agreed to look.
He found a lady with a puppy. When we arrived, the dog was anything but "cute" in the traditional sense. He was two or three months old, incredibly skinny, and very dirty. My heart broke for him. We paid 50 Lempiras, brought him home, and immediately gave him a bath. He was so pitiful, just sitting there soaking wet and shivering, watching us with wide, scared eyes.
Lessons from Lucky
We named him Lucky. From that first night, he showed us a level of grace that felt like a metaphor for our own relationship. At 1:00 AM, I felt a thud against the bed, his tiny front paws hitting the mattress as if to ask for permission. I took him out, he did his business, and he became my constant shadow. He never chewed a shoe or had an accident in the house. He was my best friend, the one I talked to when the house felt too quiet.
It took almost a year for my husband to warm up to Lucky. He had to unlearn a lifetime of seeing animals as mere possessions and learn to see Lucky as a soul. Eventually, they became the best of friends.
This wasn't just about a dog. This was about compromise. My husband didn't want a pet, but he saw my need for security and companionship. He stepped outside of his comfort zone to provide something that mattered to me. In turn, seeing him grow to love Lucky showed me a new side of his heart. We both grew. We both made concessions. We both chose the relationship over our "default" settings.
Beyond the "Disposable" Mindset
In a disposable world, a disagreement over a pet or a difference in cultural upbringing is often used as a "valid" reason to walk away. We hear people say, "We just have different values," or "We realized we weren't compatible." But compatibility isn't something you find; it is something you forge.
When we moved to Honduras and eventually became parents, the concessions became even larger. We were two people from two different worlds trying to decide on discipline, morals, and what was important to teach our children. There were things I didn't want to do, and things he didn't want to do. But in a covenant, you don't use those differences as an excuse to dissolve the union. You use them as an opportunity to reach an agreement, to blend two worlds into something new and stronger.
Society today accepts almost any excuse to give up. People cheat, lie, and accept the tiniest frustrations as signs that the relationship is "broken." But like a complex crochet pattern, a marriage is built one stitch at a time. Some days, the yarn tangles, and you have to sit in the frustration of untangling it. You don't throw the whole blanket away just because you hit a knot.
Making the Commitment a Priority
Whether you are in a conventional marriage, living together, or in a committed dating relationship, your promise should be a priority. It should be sacred. It should be the thing you protect above your own ego or your own "way" of doing things.
Cultivating a lifelong relationship is a "mind over matter" framework. It is decided that the "matter", the disagreement, the cultural hurdle, the language barrier, doesn't matter as much as the "mindset" of being one.
If we approach our relationships with the same dedication we give to our hobbies or our jobs, we would see far fewer "disposable" marriages. It takes work to learn a new language. It takes work to understand a partner who grew up with a different view of the world. It takes work to integrate a skinny, 50-Lempira puppy into a home where pets weren't the norm. But that work is where the beauty lives.
A lifelong, loving relationship isn't a fairy tale you fall into; it is a fortress you build together, stone by stone, compromise by compromise, and "yes" by "yes."
Looking for deeper insight into modern relationships? Be sure to read the full post: The Sacred Yes: Building Covenant in a Consumer World.
Catch you in the next one,
Bell Ramos 🌿
#UnscriptedParadox #BellRamos #SimplySouthern
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