Last weekend, John and I joined my parents for a river trip. While they canoed the 13 miles with relative ease, we fought the wind in our drift-happy, two-man kayak. If we stopped stroking for even a few seconds, our poor kayak was turned backwards by a gust and we were zigging and zagging like zipper teeth across the Rock River. And, side note, I felt like Wonder Woman when I stepped out of that kayak! I thought for sure I would have instant biceps, but no such luck-- John and I both burned as badly as a wheat field in an August drought.

But what does all of that have to do with communication? I'll tell you-- as we kayaked, literally throwing our whole bodies into the simple act of dipping a paddle in water, it took every ounce of jolly patience we had to keep things enjoyable and keep that kayak going straight. It was hard. It was exhausting. It was frustrating.

It was also worth it.

As we pushed forward I got to thinking about the importance of our consistent communication as a direct influence on the outcome of our day. Then, of course, my mind wandered to the broader picture-- our consistent communication is a direct influence to the outcome of our relationship. Consider the fact that communication is the most common factor leading to divorce by a whopping 65%.

It could be that we have forgotten how to truly communicate (take, for example, the texting dilemma). It could be that we have forgotten to stay true to ourselves and allowed others to simply walk over us (this really does build up after time). It could be that we simply don't know how to listen to others any more (after all, my opinion is more important). It could be a combination of all of these,

But has anyone stopped to consider the fact that communication, like everything else in this life, might just take effort? (cue hoards of screams from American millennials-- No! Not the "e" word!). I'll say it again: Communication takes effort.

After all, learning how to intrinsically sync your mental thought process and soul-deep concerns and feelings with a being completely foreign to yourself shouldn't be easy. If it were easy, it wouldn't be worth it.


Ahh ... the kayak trip. If it had been easy, it would have been nice, sure. But it wouldn't have been nearly as memorable! We stepped into our kayak, jostling it a little and getting off to a confident, but shaky start. It didn't take long before we realized that we had signed up for so much more than we expected, and only a little longer before I realized my patience wasn't going to hold up.

That didn't stop us, though. I learned, as we hit embankments and turned circles against the conditions, how to hold my tongue. how to take a breath. how to let it go. I learned how to make sure we could take a moment to enjoy the beauty (if only you could have seen the sun trickling through the pines at the top of the bluff!). And John learned how to graciously look past my salty attitude, and still managed to make us both laugh. We learned how to work in unison.

When we got out of that kayak our arms were basically limp noodles, and our legs were the color of cherry tomatoes. But we were laughing and smiling and it was oh so worth all the struggle to get down that river.

Any relationship, in which two souls are literally becoming one, is going to be hard. You're going to get turned around and burned. It's going to be uncomfortable and exhausting. But in the end it is worth it. It's a learning process-- one that requires sacrifice on both ends and completely open and honest communication between the two. Don't give up just yet-- hold on to those moments by the bluff, and take in all the giggles and water fights. Save your strength, and battle the winds together...

...because I can tell you, I wouldn't have made it up that river if John had been paddling the opposite direction.