Tag Archive for: Marriage

Hope is a Skill, Not a Wish

At a recent conference, I had the privilege of hearing Dr. Chan Hellman speak about the science of hope. Hellman is a professor at the University of Oklahoma and the founding director of its Hope Research Center. His research examines hope as a psychological strength that can help children and adults experiencing trauma and adversity.

One of the most powerful takeaways from his presentation was this:

Before people can change or grow, they must first be able to imagine a new reality.

They need to see that something different is possible.

Hellman challenged us to think of hope as a noun, not merely as a verb we use when we wish for something. Hope is not simply a feeling that appears when circumstances are good. It is something we can possess, develop and practice.

That framing matters because we often talk about hope as though it were little more than wishful thinking.

Psychologist C. R. Snyder developed what is commonly known as Hope Theory. In the foundational 1991 article “The Will and the Ways,” Snyder and his colleagues described hope as a cognitive pattern involving agency and pathways. Agency is the determination and belief that we can move toward a goal. Pathways are the plans and possible routes we identify for reaching it. Both are necessary. A person needs the will to move and a way to move forward. 

The Hope Research Center presents the model in three practical parts: goals, pathways and agency. A meaningful goal gives us a destination. Pathways give us possible routes. Agency provides the motivation to begin, persist and change course when we encounter an obstacle. 

Research also suggests that these capacities can be strengthened. In a 2006 pilot study, Jennifer Cheavens, David Feldman, Amber Gum, Scott Michael and C. R. Snyder tested an eight-session hope-based group intervention focused on building goal-pursuit skills. Participants showed statistically significant improvements in the agency component of hope, along with improvements in life meaning and self-esteem and reductions in symptoms of anxiety and depression. It was a small pilot study, but it offers evidence that hopeful thinking is not necessarily a fixed personality trait. It can be practiced and developed. 

One of Hellman’s examples at the conference helped make this framework especially clear.

Many of us set goals based on what we are trying to avoid.

I want to avoid losing my children. I want to avoid going to jail. I want to avoid getting a divorce. I want to avoid using substances again. I want to avoid another argument.

These goals are understandable. When we are frightened, hurting or facing serious consequences, preventing another painful outcome may feel like the most urgent thing in the world.

But an avoidance goal only tells us what we are running from. It does not necessarily show us what we are trying to build. A forward-looking goal creates a different picture.

Instead of only saying, “I do not want to lose my children,” a parent might say, “I want to become a safe, stable and dependable parent. I want to rebuild trust and create a home in which my children can thrive.”

Instead of saying, “I do not want to get divorced,” a spouse might say, “I want to create a marriage in which we listen, repair conflict and treat each other with respect. I want to build a healthier atmosphere in our home and a brighter future for our children.”

Instead of saying, “I do not want to use again,” someone might say, “I want to build a life in recovery. I want to be healthy, present and connected to the people I love.”

The circumstances have not suddenly become easy. The desired outcome is not guaranteed. But the person now has a vision of something worth moving toward.

That vision creates a destination. Once there is a destination, pathways can begin to emerge. Those pathways might include counseling, treatment, parenting education, accountability, a support group, new daily routines, healthier relationships or one difficult but necessary conversation.

As I listened to Hellman, I became excited because he was giving research-based language to something we have witnessed for years at First Things First. Families need hope.

Parents who have been separated from their children need hope. People struggling with addiction need hope. Couples on the brink of divorce need hope. Separated spouses who genuinely want to reconcile need hope. Blended families trying to create a healthier reality than anything they have previously experienced need hope.

People need more than someone telling them what they have done wrong. They need more than a list of risks, consequences or problems. They need someone who will walk alongside them and help them see that their current reality does not have to be their permanent reality.

They need help seeing what is still within their control. They need help identifying the decisions they can make, the resources they can access and the next healthy step available to them.

Sometimes people need to borrow someone else’s hope until they are ready to carry their own.

Hellman’s research helps explain why this matters. In a 2022 article in Advances in Social Work, Hellman, Angela Pharris and Ricky Munoz proposed hope as a framework for responding to adverse childhood experiences. They argued that hope can offer useful guidance for building trauma-informed approaches that help people respond to adversity and pursue greater well-being. 

This does not mean we minimize trauma or pretend that serious problems can be solved through positive thinking. Hope is not denial.

Hope does not erase consequences, remove obstacles or guarantee that other people will make the choices we want them to make. Some circumstances require professional treatment, legal guidance, safety planning or long-term support. Hope simply gives us a way to begin moving.

Here are two ways to practice the skill of hope:

1. Rewrite an avoidance goal

Think about an area of your life in which you have been saying, “I do not want,” “I need to stop” or “I am trying to avoid.”

Then ask yourself a different question: What do I want to create?

“I do not want us to fight so much” might become, “I want us to learn how to disagree without attacking each other.”

“I do not want to be an absent parent” might become, “I want to be a dependable and emotionally present parent.”

Make the goal specific, meaningful and focused as much as possible on actions within your control. You cannot control every outcome or another person’s decisions, but you can identify the kind of person you want to become and the next choice you want to make.

2. Create a hope map

Write your goal at the top of a page. Underneath it, list at least three possible pathways toward that goal. Do not rely on only one route. Hopeful thinking includes the ability to find another path when the first one becomes blocked.

Next to each pathway, identify the obstacles that might get in the way. Then write down one possible response or detour for each obstacle.

Finally, choose one small action you can take within the next 24 hours. Identify one person who can encourage you, hold you accountable or help you find another pathway when you feel stuck.

A small step may not feel dramatic, but it matters. Every completed step becomes evidence that you are not entirely powerless.

Hope does not promise that every story will end exactly as we want it to. It reminds us that the future has not been fully written and that our choices can still help shape what comes next.

At First Things First, that is a significant part of our work. We help people imagine what could be, identify possible paths toward it and recognize the agency they still possess.

Hope is not passive. It is practiced.

And when people practice hope, change becomes imaginable. Then, through one decision and one step at a time, it can become possible.

Lauren Hall is the President and CEO of First Things First. Contact her at lauren@firstthings.org

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The Stories That Make Us Strong

A dear friend of mine, who is a marriage and family therapist, recently sent me a piece of research because, as she put it, it reminded her of my family.

This is both a compliment and a small accusation.

I’ve often felt I know more family history than the average person should. Not just the sweet stories. Not just the “your great-grandmother made the best biscuits” stories. I know the uncomfortable ones, too. The ones most families might tuck away in a drawer labeled “Let’s not bring this up over brisket.”

One of those stories is about my paternal grandparents. When I was seven or eight years old, I learned they had once been on the brink of divorce. This was decades before I was born, and the story was shared at a family gathering over barbecue with the same casual tone someone might use to discuss a Christmas memory.

I was stunned.

We had recently celebrated their 45th wedding anniversary. They seemed so in love. Even in their early 60s, they held hands, laughed together and seemed genuinely delighted to be in the same room. This stood out to me because many of my friends’ grandparents appeared more “mildly annoyed roommates” than “true life partners.”

As I got older, I asked more questions. I learned their near-divorce was not the end of their story. In many ways, it became the turning point. The almost collapse of their marriage helped catapult them into the beautiful relationship I later witnessed. It also explained why they were so adamant that my dad and his brothers not only “get married and stay married,” but adore their wives. Date them. Laugh with them. Play together. Enjoy each other.

I did not realize how much that story shaped my own understanding of marriage until I was married myself.

This is exactly the kind of thing psychologists Robyn Fivush and Marshall Duke at Emory University have studied for years: the power of family stories. Not just the shiny stories. The whole story.

Duke, Fivush and their colleagues developed what is called the “Do You Know?” scale, a set of 20 questions designed to measure how much children know about their family history. The questions are simple. Do you know how your parents met? Do you know where your grandparents grew up? Do you know the source of your name? Do you know about an illness, injury, hard time or lesson your parents experienced when they were younger?

The point was not to see which children had memorized the most family trivia. This was not Ancestry.com meets standardized testing. The researchers wanted to understand whether children who knew more about their family’s past also showed stronger emotional well-being.

In one study, Fivush, Duke and Jennifer Bohanek looked at 66 adolescents, ages 14 to 16, from broadly middle-class, mixed-race, two-parent families. The teens completed the “Do You Know?” scale along with standardized measures of family functioning, identity development and well-being. The results were striking. Adolescents who knew more about their family history showed higher levels of emotional well-being and stronger identity achievement, even when researchers controlled for general family functioning.

Earlier work found similar patterns among younger children. Higher scores on the “Do You Know?” scale were linked with higher self-esteem, a stronger sense of control over life, better family functioning, lower anxiety and fewer internalizing and externalizing behavior problems.

But here is the important part: Fivush and Duke were clear that simply stuffing a child’s brain with facts about Uncle Larry’s old Ford truck does not magically make them resilient.

The power is not in the facts alone. The power is in the process.

Families who tell stories are usually doing something deeper. They are creating connections. They are showing children where they come from. They are giving them a larger narrative to stand inside when life gets hard.

And, according to Duke, the healthiest family narratives are not only ascending stories, where everything gets better and better. They are not only descending stories, where everything falls apart. The most helpful stories are often “oscillating” stories: We had hard times. We got through them. We had good times. We lost our way. We found our way again.

That matters because children do not need a family tree full of perfect people. In fact, good luck finding one.

Children need to know their family has survived real life. They need stories of grandparents who struggled, parents who made mistakes, relatives who repaired relationships, people who changed, families who grieved and laughed in the same kitchen.

Of course, this does not mean every story is appropriate for every age. We do not need to hand a six-year-old a full documentary on generational trauma while they are trying to eat macaroni and cheese. But we can tell the truth in age-appropriate ways.

“We had a really hard season, and we had to learn how to love each other better.”

“Grandpa made some mistakes when he was younger, and he worked hard to make things right.”

“When I was your age, I felt left out sometimes, too.”

“Our family has been through hard things before, and we know how to take the next right step.”

So how do we use this research in real family life?

First, tell stories at ordinary times. The best family storytelling often happens in the car, at the dinner table, on the porch, during holidays or while washing dishes. You do not need a formal family history night, although if your people will tolerate that, bless them.

Second, tell the whole story, not just the polished one. Share the wedding day and the almost-divorce. The job promotion and the job loss. The answered prayer and the season of waiting. Children learn resilience when they hear that struggle is not proof their family is broken. It is proof their family is human.

Third, connect the story to meaning. Do not just say, “Your grandmother lived through a hard time.” Say, “That taught her to be generous,” or “That is why she cared so much about keeping family close.” The lesson helps the child carry the story forward.

Fourth, ask questions. Try a few from the “Do You Know?” scale. Ask your children what they know about where you grew up, how you met their other parent, what you were like as a child or what mistakes taught you the most. Let them ask follow-ups. Let the conversation wander.

Finally, remember that family stories are not about creating pride in perfection. They are about creating belonging.

When I think about my grandparents now, I do not think less of their marriage because it almost ended. I think more of it. I saw the fruit of repair. I saw two people who had weathered something hard and built something beautiful on the other side.

That story gave me more than information. It gave me imagination.

It helped me believe that love can mature. That repair is possible. Those hard seasons do not have to have the final word.

And maybe that is one of the greatest gifts we can give our children: not a flawless family history, but an honest one sturdy enough to hold them.

Lauren Hall is the President and CEO of First Things First. Contact her at lauren@firstthings.org

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A Healthy Relationship Equals Freedom to Be Yourself

As we just celebrated America’s 250th birthday, I found myself thinking about freedom.

Not just the big, beautiful idea of it, but the everyday reality of it. We enjoy freedom of speech, but that freedom depends on people using their words with some measure of truth, courage and restraint. We enjoy freedom of religion, but that freedom depends on neighbors respecting one another’s conscience, even when they disagree. We enjoy the freedom to vote, build businesses, raise families, move across state lines, gather in public, protest peacefully and pursue the kind of life we believe is meaningful.

But none of those freedoms work very well if people refuse to consider how their choices affect everyone else.

Freedom is not just the ability to do whatever we want. It is the responsibility to make choices that allow both ourselves and others to flourish.

And, of course, as someone who spends a lot of time thinking about healthy relationships and families, my mind went there next.

Because the joy and freedom found in a healthy relationship are also deeply dependent on the people inside it. A good relationship is not one where two people slowly become the same person. It is not one where every opinion, plan, hobby, friendship and decision must be approved by a committee. And it is certainly not one where “I love you” quietly turns into “I can’t function unless you are okay with me.”

A healthy relationship is something much better and harder. It is two people learning how to belong to each other without disappearing into each other.

Relationship researchers have been studying this tension for decades. Self-determination theory, developed by psychologists Edward Deci and Richard Ryan, says human beings need three things to thrive: autonomy, competence and relatedness. In plain English, we need to feel like we have some say over our lives, we are capable, and we are meaningfully connected to others. The interesting part is that autonomy and connection are not enemies. In fact, studies applying self-determination theory to romantic relationships find that people tend to have stronger relationships when both partners feel supported in being themselves.

That may sound obvious, but it is easy to get wrong. Some couples confuse closeness with sameness. They assume love means doing everything together, agreeing on everything, or never making a decision without checking in first. But research on autonomy and relatedness suggests the best relationships are not built on control. They are built on mutual consideration. One study published in Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin (PSPB) found that people were more likely to respond constructively to a partner when they felt both connected and free.

In other words, we are often better partners when we do not feel trapped.

This is also where codependency gets tricky. Codependency can look like devotion from the outside. It can sound sweet to say, “I just want whatever you want.” But over time, a relationship where one or both people constantly ignore their own needs, friendships, preferences or convictions can become less like love and more like emotional oxygen deprivation. Healthy love says, “Your life matters to me.” Codependent love says, “Your life is responsible for mine.”

The healthiest couples seem to practice a rhythm of “me, you and us.”

There is room for my interests, your interests and the life we are building together. Arthur and Elaine Aron’s self-expansion model helps explain why this matters. Their research suggests that close relationships can help people grow by exposing them to new ideas, experiences and parts of themselves. A spouse may introduce you to hiking, jazz, gardening, a new food or a different way of seeing the world. But self-expansion does not mean self-erasure. The goal is not to become a copy of your partner. The goal is to become more fully alive because of the relationship.

So what does it look like to freely be yourself in a committed relationship?

It looks like being able to say what you think without fearing punishment. It looks like having separate friendships without suspicion. It looks like taking your partner into account without asking them to become your conscience. It looks like saying, “I care how this affects you,” and also, “I am still responsible for my own choices.” It looks like celebrating the fact that one of you loves a quiet Saturday morning and the other comes alive around people. It looks like curiosity instead of constant correction.

Marriage can strengthen this freedom, but it does not automatically create it. Studies often find that married adults report higher levels of happiness, trust, closeness and life satisfaction than cohabiting or unmarried adults, including Pew Research Center’s surveys and analyses on marriage and cohabitation. But research is careful here: marriage itself is not magic. A controlling marriage can shrink a person.

A respectful marriage can give a person steadiness, support and courage.

The best marriage is not a cage with nicer furniture. It is a home base. It is the place where two people are deeply committed, regularly considerate and still free to grow. Not free from responsibility, but free from fear. Not free to ignore each other, but free to become themselves together.

Maybe that is one of love’s greatest gifts. Not “You complete me,” but “You help me become more whole.”

Lauren Hall is the President and CEO of First Things First. Contact her at lauren@firstthings.org

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How to Handle Pet Peeves in Marriage

My husband is a wild sleeper.

And I don’t mean he occasionally rolls over with a dramatic sigh. I mean he talks. He moves. He swings his legs. He basically sleeps with the same level of animation and commentary he has when he is awake.

It is, in a word, maddening.

There are few things that will test your character quite like being kicked by a sleeping man who has no idea he is currently in a REM-cycle wrestling match with the bedding.

At first, I did what many spouses do with pet peeves. I silently collected evidence. I built my case in the dark. I lay there thinking, “Surely he knows he is doing this.” Which, of course, he did not. Because he was asleep.

This is where pet peeves can become dangerous in relationships. Not because the irritation itself is always a big deal, but because small irritations have a way of collecting interest.

The sock on the floor becomes, “You don’t respect me.” The loud chewing becomes, “You are inconsiderate.” The wild sleeping becomes, “You are personally committed to ruining my life between the hours of 10 p.m. and 6 a.m.”

That may not be fair, but it is human.

Relationship researchers John and Julie Gottman have long taught that the way we begin a hard conversation often shapes where it goes. Their concept of a “soft startup” encourages couples to bring up concerns without criticism, contempt or blame. In other words, “I’m having a hard time sleeping and I need us to figure this out together” will likely go better than, “You sleep like a deranged rotisserie chicken.”

Even if both statements feel true.

The goal is not to pretend something does not bother you. That is not maturity. That is emotional composting. Eventually, something will smell.

The goal is to bring up the pet peeve before it becomes a character indictment. A complaint says, “This behavior is bothering me.” Criticism says, “You are the problem.” Healthy couples learn the difference.

So, I talked to my husband about it. Not at 2:17 a.m. while furious and sleep deprived, which would have been tempting, but unwise. I brought it up when we were both awake and reasonably kind. Then we did something that helped tremendously: we researched it together.

Some research has linked screen use before bed with poorer sleep outcomes in adults. Other sleep research points to the importance of a cool, comfortable sleep environment. So, we cut back on TV and screen time before bed. We found lighter-weight blankets. We bought a fan.

And, friends, the man still sleeps with personality. But it helped.

That is the sweet spot with pet peeves. Learn how to handle pet peeves in marriage with empathy, communication and teamwork instead of resentment.
 Sometimes the goal is reducing the irritation, increasing understanding and refusing to turn an annoying habit into a relational war.

This is where Scott Stanley’s work on commitment is helpful. Stanley and colleagues have written about dedication in relationships as more than staying because you are stuck. It is choosing “us.” It is making decisions with the relationship in mind.

When a partner takes your pet peeve seriously, even if they cannot fix it perfectly, they are communicating, “Your experience matters to me.”

That matters.

But compromise also has limits.

Some pet peeves are changeable. Leaving cabinets open, scrolling in bed, interrupting, being chronically late or never replacing the toilet paper roll are behaviors that can often be addressed with effort, systems and humility.

Other pet peeves are tied to temperament, personality, sensory differences, health issues or deeply ingrained habits. Your spouse may always be louder than you prefer. Your partner may never load the dishwasher according to your sacred and obviously correct architectural vision. Someone may need medical help for snoring, restless sleep or other sleep disturbances. Someone else may need to accept that love does not come with a custom-built human who operates exactly to their specifications.

Esther Perel often talks about relationships as places where difference is not a flaw to eliminate, but a reality to understand. The person you love is not you. This is very inconvenient. It is also the foundation of intimacy.

So when bringing up a pet peeve, try this: name the behavior, not the character.

Share the impact, not a prosecution.

Ask for collaboration, not surrender. Be specific about what would help. And be honest about whether this is truly a problem or simply a preference.

There is a big difference between “I need sleep so I can function” and “I prefer the towels folded like they are being displayed at a boutique hotel.”

Both may matter. They do not matter equally.

The healthiest couples are not the ones with no irritations. They are the ones who can talk about irritations without humiliation. They can laugh when appropriate, repair when needed and adjust when possible.

My husband and I did not solve wild sleeping entirely. But we did solve some of it. More importantly, we treated the problem like something we were facing together, not something I was using against him.

That is the real work of love.

Because every relationship has pet peeves. The question is whether we let them become evidence against each other, or invitations to better understand each other.

Lauren Hall is the President and CEO of First Things First. Contact her at lauren@firstthings.org

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The Gift of Loving Someone Different

On a recent podcast, Dr. Orna Guralnik, the psychoanalyst many viewers know simply as “Dr. Orna” from Showtime’s Couples Therapy, was asked what she has learned about love after years of sitting with couples. Earlier in her career, she said, she believed compatibility was one of the greatest predictors of success. Find the person who fits you well enough, and the relationship has a better chance.

But now, after listening to hundreds of couples wrestle with money, sex, family, ambition, loyalty, fear and disappointment, she sees something deeper:

The capacity to love someone who is different from you may be one of the greatest forms of love.

That idea feels almost countercultural in a dating world obsessed with “finding your match.” Apps ask us to filter for height, politics, religion, hobbies, education, diet, drinking habits and whether someone wants dogs, children or pickleball. Compatibility matters, of course. Shared values can steady a marriage. A sweeping 2023 meta-analysis in Nature Human Behaviour found that romantic partners are more often similar than different across many traits, especially education, religion, politics and substance use.

But similarity is not the same thing as love.

Similarity may help us choose each other. It does not guarantee we will know how to cherish each other.

A 2020 study in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences analyzed 43 longitudinal couple datasets from more than 11,000 couples. The strongest predictors of relationship quality were not basic demographic similarities or personality matching. They were relationship-specific experiences: perceived partner commitment, appreciation, sexual satisfaction, perceived partner satisfaction and conflict. In other words, what matters most is not simply whether we found someone compatible, but what kind of relationship we are building once we are together.

This is where Dr. Orna’s wisdom lands. Every marriage eventually introduces us to the “otherness” of the person we love. Your spouse may handle stress differently. Spend money differently. Need closeness at a different time of day than you do. Grieve differently. Parent differently. Rest differently. Change differently.

At first, those differences can feel like betrayal. “I thought we were on the same page,” we say, when often what we mean is, “I thought you would keep being the version of yourself that was easiest for me to love.”

But marriage is not a lifelong compatibility test. It is a lifelong invitation to mature.

Healthy love does not mean pretending differences are insignificant. Some differences are serious and require counseling, boundaries, repair or even safety planning. But many everyday differences are not signs that we married the wrong person. They are opportunities to practice curiosity instead of control.

Research on partner acceptance supports this. Studies show that feeling accepted by your partner is associated with greater relationship satisfaction. Likewise, perceived partner responsiveness (feeling understood, validated and cared for) is repeatedly linked to intimacy and relationship well-being.

That is a different vision of marriage than “we never fight” or “we like all the same things.” Dr. Orna has said a strong couple creates an atmosphere of mutual respect, adoration and acceptance. She even notes that couples who never argue can be concerning, because it may mean differences are being hidden, swallowed or erased.

Real intimacy is not the absence of difference. It is the courage to remain tender when difference appears.

Maybe the goal is not to marry your mirror image. Maybe the goal is to become the kind of person who can say: I see that you are not me. I will not make you become me in order to love you. I will learn you. I will tell the truth about myself. I will let us grow.

Compatibility may help a couple begin.

But acceptance, appreciation, commitment and the willingness to love across differences may be what helps them last.

Lauren Hall is the President and CEO of First Things First. Contact her at lauren@firstthings.org

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How Confidence in Your Relationship Shapes Your Well-Being

There is something deeply calming about believing your relationship is steady.

Not perfect. Not conflict-free. Not untouched by stress. Steady.

A recent study published in the Journal of Marital and Family Therapy found that when couples improved their “relationship confidence” through a relationship education program, they also saw gains in their individual well-being, including mental health, sleep, and substance-use outcomes. What stood out most in this study was that relationship confidence appeared to matter even more for personal well-being than communication or partner support alone. In other words, it was not just whether couples talked better. It was whether they believed we can handle life together.

That makes sense, because human beings do not separate relationship stress from the rest of life very well. When home feels uncertain, that uncertainty tends to bleed into everything else such as sleep, concentration, mood, and even the way we carry stress in the body. Research by Brian Doss and colleagues, published in Current Opinion in Psychology, has shown that romantic relationship quality and mental health are closely intertwined, and often in a direction that runs from the health of the relationship to the health of the individual. A secure relationship does not fix everything, but it can create a kind of emotional stability that supports the person inside it.

So what does it mean to be confident in your relationship?

It does not mean never having doubts. It does not mean always feeling close. And it does not mean pretending problems do not exist. Relationship confidence is more like trust in the bond itself and the belief that your partner is with you, the relationship has a future, and the two of you can face challenges without everything falling apart.

People who are confident in their relationship usually recognize a few signs. Conflict may still be hard, but it does not immediately feel catastrophic. The future feels discussable. Reassurance is helpful, but not constantly required. There is a sense of stability underneath the ordinary ups and downs.

When confidence is low, the opposite tends to happen. Small disagreements feel loaded. One or both partners become hyperaware of distance, tone, or ambiguity. Conversations about commitment or the future feel avoided, unclear, or tense. The relationship may still exist, but it does not feel emotionally secure.

Attachment research helps explain why. Meta-analytic findings published in Personality and Individual Differences shows that insecure attachment (particularly anxiety and avoidance)  is consistently linked with lower relationship quality. Anxious partners often fear rejection and scan for signs that something is wrong. Avoidant partners often withdraw from closeness and dependence. Both patterns make it harder to feel confident in the relationship, even when love is present.

And confidence matters beyond the relationship itself. In Current Opinion in Psychology, Brooke Feeney and Nancy Collins argued that close relationships help people thrive by serving as both a source of strength in adversity and a base from which to grow. In other words, a strong relationship does not just comfort us when life gets hard. It helps us function better in life overall.

So how can confidence be built if it is missing?

Usually, not through grand declarations, but through evidence.

Confidence grows when partners become reliable in small, repeated ways. Keeping promises. Repairing after conflict. Telling the truth. Following through. Handling stress as a team. Over time, those moments create a track record that says, we have faced hard things before, and we can do it again.

It also grows through clarity. Ambiguity erodes confidence. When commitment is vague, future plans are unspoken, or one partner stays emotionally half-in and half-out, insecurity fills the gap. People feel safer when they know where they stand.

And finally, confidence grows through shared resilience. The research also noted that one way to reinforce relationship confidence is to remember past challenges the couple has already survived. That memory becomes its own kind of strength.

In a healthy relationship, confidence is not just a nice extra. It is part of what helps both people breathe easier.

We often speak of love as a feeling. But sometimes love is also a shelter. And when people trust that their shelter will hold, they are often better able to rest, recover, and live with a little more peace.

Lauren Hall is the President and CEO of First Things First. Contact her at lauren@firstthings.org

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Defining Clarity Before Marriage

A few weeks ago, I found myself standing in a room full of college students talking about relationships. Some were engaged. Some were dating someone seriously. A few were still figuring out what they wanted.

At one point, someone raised their hand and asked a question that made the whole room quiet.

“How do you know when to talk about marriage in a relationship?”

It’s a question many young adults wrestle with today. And in truth, it’s not really about timing. It’s about clarity.

Instead of answering the question directly, I asked them a different one.

Why do you want to get married in the first place?

What kind of spouse do you want to be? What kind of marriage do you want to build?

Those questions matter much more than the calendar. Because the healthiest relationships tend to grow out of shared values and intentional choices, not simply the passage of time.

Much of this idea comes from the work of University of Denver psychologist Scott Stanley, who has spent decades studying commitment in romantic relationships. Stanley describes two ways couples move through major relationship milestones: they either slide into them or they decide.

Sliding happens when couples drift from one stage to the next without much conversation. They start dating, spend more time together, move in together, and gradually build a shared life without clearly talking about long-term commitment.

Deciding looks different. It involves deliberate conversations and thoughtful choices about the future.

Stanley and his colleagues describe this pattern in research published in the journal Family Relations. They found that when couples slide into major transitions, especially living together, it can create what researchers call “inertia.” Shared leases, routines, and finances can make it harder to step back and evaluate whether the relationship is truly the right long-term fit.

The point is that intentionality before commitment matters.

Relationships tend to be stronger when commitment grows from thoughtful decisions rather than momentum. 

That message resonated with the students in the room. Many of them weren’t confused about love. They were confused about how to move forward with purpose.

Their uncertainty reflects a broader shift happening across the country.

Marriage still matters to many young adults, but the timeline has changed dramatically. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the median age for first marriage is now about 32 for men and 29 for women, nearly eight years older than it was in 1990.

At the same time, fewer Americans are marrying at all. Researchers at the Pew Research Center report that marriage rates among adults under 30 have fallen steadily over the past several decades.

Economic realities are part of the story. Student loan debt, housing costs, and longer educational paths have delayed many traditional milestones of adulthood. Researchers studying life transitions have found that fewer young adults today reach markers such as stable employment, homeownership, and marriage by their late twenties compared with previous generations.

But economics isn’t the whole picture.

Expectations for marriage have also evolved.

In earlier generations, marriage often provided financial stability and a clear social structure. Today, young adults tend to look for something deeper. They want emotional compatibility, shared values, and a partner who feels like a true teammate in life.

Sociologists Andrew Cherlin and others have described this shift as the rise of the “soulmate model” of marriage, where the relationship is expected to provide both companionship and personal fulfillment.

That’s a much higher bar and requires more preparation than previous generations needed.

The students I spoke with weren’t struggling because they lacked opportunities to date. What many of them lacked was clarity about themselves. They were still figuring out what mattered most to them, family, faith, career, lifestyle, or future goals.

Developmental psychologists often describe the late teens and twenties as a stage called emerging adulthood, a period when people are exploring identity and long-term direction. Jeffrey Arnett, whose research on emerging adulthood appears in the journal American Psychologist, describes this stage as a time when young people are learning who they are before settling into permanent commitments.

So it’s not surprising that big relationship decisions feel complicated.

And yet what struck me most that evening was how much these young adults still wanted strong relationships.

They weren’t cynical about marriage. They simply wanted to approach it thoughtfully.

Research suggests that preparation can make a meaningful difference.

Studies on premarital education led by Scott Stanley and other relationship scholars have found that couples who learn communication skills, conflict management strategies, and commitment principles before marriage often report stronger and more stable relationships later on.

But preparation for marriage doesn’t begin with engagement rings or wedding planning.

It begins much earlier—with self-reflection.

Young adults benefit from understanding their own values before trying to merge their lives with someone else’s. They benefit from learning how to talk openly about the future. And perhaps most importantly, they benefit from seeing healthy relationships modeled in the adults around them.

Those lessons shape expectations long before a proposal ever enters the picture.

One of the most freeing ideas we discussed that evening was this: dating doesn’t have to be an urgent search for someone to marry.

Instead, it can be something simpler. Dating can be a process of discovering alignment.

Finding someone who treats you with respect. Someone whose values make sense to you. Someone whose vision for life looks similar to your own.

When that kind of alignment appears, conversations about commitment tend to happen naturally, not because the clock is ticking, but because both people can see the same future beginning to take shape.

And when that happens, the decision to move forward together becomes much clearer.

Not because you slid into it. But because you chose it.

Lauren Hall is the President and CEO of First Things First. Contact her at lauren@firstthings.org

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Loving Your Spouse Through the Unknown

Right now, our house feels a bit like a circus act where someone is trying to keep 14 plates spinning at once.

My husband is in a job transition. It is not that he lacks connections or promising leads; it is that we do not have a clear known. Is the next step a new full-time job, launching his own business, or piecing together contract work? At the same time, my schedule has been bananas with early mornings, late nights, and travel sprinkled in, while we have put our house on the market and the kids have been trading the same bug for weeks.

In the middle of it, I have found myself asking a simple but complicated question: How do I love him well right now? How do I show up for his stress when mine is screaming for attention too?

If you are walking through a hard season with your spouse or partner, whether it is a job loss or transition, health issues, caring for aging parents, burnout, or financial uncertainty, you are not alone.

Researchers have found that one of the most important things in stressful seasons is “partner responsiveness,” the sense that your partner understands you, cares about you, and is genuinely there for you. People who feel that way about their partner tend to report less distress and more relationship satisfaction, even when life is hard.

Another big idea is that stress is best handled as a shared burden, not an individual one. Experts call this “dyadic coping” and use it to describe how couples manage stress together instead of separately. When partners talk openly about what they are facing, support each other, and make decisions as a team, they are more likely to stay connected and resilient.

So what does all of that look like on an ordinary Tuesday night when the kids are coughing, the emails will not stop, and your partner is wondering if they will ever feel settled again?

Here are a few practices I am trying, very imperfectly, in our own house.

Lead with empathy, not solutions.

Most of us are quick to jump into fixing mode: “Have you tried…?” “What if you just…?” I am trying instead to start with simple, grounded empathy: “This limbo is exhausting. Of course you are worn out.” That kind of validation says, I see you, and I get why this is hard. Feeling understood often does more good than the perfect pep talk.

Ask what kind of support they want.

One day your spouse may want to brainstorm résumés and business ideas. The next day, they may need quiet and a mindless show. Instead of guessing, try: “Do you want ideas right now, or do you just want me to listen?” Support works best when it matches what the person actually wants at the moment.

Be a soft place to land and a mirror of their strength.

During a job transition, it is easy for someone’s sense of worth to get tangled up with productivity and paychecks. Yes, your spouse needs comfort and a reminder that you are okay today. But they also need you to reflect on the parts of them that are bigger than this season: “You are wise and capable. That does not disappear just because things feel uncertain.” That is the “safe haven” and “source of strength” idea in real life.

Create tiny rituals of connection.

In seasons like ours, uninterrupted date nights can feel fictional. But small, consistent check-ins matter more than grand gestures. It might look like a ten-minute “how is your heart?” chat after bedtime, a quick midday text, or putting your phone down when they start talking. Couples who respond to each other’s little “bids” for attention most of the time are the ones who tend to stay happily together.

And when (not if) you get it wrong, repair. There will be nights when you snap, offer the wrong kind of support, or completely miss how overwhelmed your spouse is. The goal is not perfection; it is the willingness to circle back: “I am sorry I jumped into problem-solving. Can we try that again?” Those “repair attempts” are powerful because they send the message, Our relationship matters more than this moment.

I wish I could tell you I have mastered all of this. I have not. Some nights I get it right; some nights I crawl into bed and think, Well, that was not my best work as a wife, mom, or human.

But I am learning this: supporting your spouse in a difficult season is less about one heroic conversation and more about a hundred small choices to stay emotionally present, to say, “I see you,” “I am with you,” and “We will figure this out together,” even when the path forward is still foggy.

Lauren Hall is the President and CEO of First Things First. Contact her at lauren@firstthings.org.

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