It was said about a brother that although he lived in peace with his wife, he became troubled whenever an unexpected trial came upon them. And going to an elder, he said:
“Abba, why does my house shake when a temptation comes, even though in all other things we are in good harmony?”
The elder answered him:
“My son, it is not in the time of sunshine that the strength of a roof is known, but in the time of rain. So it is with marriage: not in ordinary days does love show itself, but in the moment when one of you falls, errs, or strays from the rule. If then you remain together—not out of weakness, but out of patience and forgiveness—know that God has strengthened your house.”
And the elder also said:
“An exception is not the end of a marriage, but the place where its true work begins. For love is not measured in good days, but in the way you lift up the one who has fallen, and in the way you receive forgiveness when you yourself have fallen.”
In today’s world, where people part ways over a mistake, a weakness, or a passing frailty, marriage is not a contract between two perfections, but a journey between two weaknesses that choose not to abandon one another. The exception—the mistake, the wandering, the moment of weakness—is the place where one sees whether love is merely a feeling or also a sacrifice. Patience and forgiveness are the foundation stones of a house that does not collapse at the first storm.
Pustia Inimii 