37 Years Ago, Standing on the Bema

Lauri Stern
Aug 2
7 min read

Thirty-seven years ago, standing on the Bema, I didn’t know shit about marriage—or about myself—or, truthfully, about the man standing across from me. Not really.

What I did know was that I had dreams. And when I met the man who would become my husband, those dreams aligned. I envisioned a life of being a wife and a mother—an idea that went against the grain of my upbringing.

Growing up in the ’70s, raised by a mother who found her backbone entering the workforce after a divorce, surrounded by sisters and a sister-in-law immersed in women’s liberation, admitting that all I really wanted to be was a mom felt almost criminal. I imagined I’d be sentenced to women’s lib jail for saying it out loud. So I went to school, got jobs, worked hard, knowing that whatever job I held was just a vehicle—a way to pay bills until I could fully step into the role I wanted most.

Becoming a Mom and Finding My Stride

It wasn’t until I became a mom that I truly found my stride. Motherhood wasn’t just a title—it was an entire enterprise. At fancy parties for my husband’s job, when people asked what I did, I’d confidently say I was the CEO of a major family business. Inevitably, someone would follow up, “Oh? What kind of business?”

That’s when I’d spring the trap with a smile: “I manage transportation, scheduling, healthcare, and nutrition.” Some jaws would drop, mostly the men's, astonished that one person, one woman, could handle all that. And then the final blow: “So, what’s your official title?” they’d ask. “I’m a mom,” I’d reply, and that usually ended the conversation.

Motherhood became my greatest classroom, one where I learned patience, adaptability, and leadership. I’d always loved guiding others—whether as a camp counselor in my teens, an aerobics instructor in my twenties and thirties, a yoga teacher in my forties, to how I incorporate all I've learned through the years into the work I do now as an instructor, an energetic wellness practitioner and coach. So, teaching was always in my DNA. But what I didn't know was that becoming a wife and mother would become my own personal classroom.

What I Didn’t Know About Marriage

At 23, I knew nothing about what it truly meant to build a life with another human being. I didn’t understand the toll of sleepless nights or the bone-deep exhaustion of raising kids. I didn’t know the heartache of a lost pregnancy or the fear of rushing a sick child to the ER. I didn’t anticipate the tag-teaming, two ships passing in the night navigation required to keep a family moving.

Life brings joy and heartbreak in uneven doses. The way we’re raised—and the programming we inherit about what makes a “good” spouse or parent—often shows up in unexpected, unwelcome ways. Without realizing it, we run on outdated instructions, borrowed beliefs, and autopilot patterns. We don’t know when to stop, examine, and rewrite those instructions until life forces us to.

Choosing Each Other Without Knowing How

Looking back now, I see how fortunate I was to choose my husband. We were young—just 23 and 24—but something larger than us nudged us together. We were meant to have the children we had, meant to learn the lessons we’ve learned, meant to grow into the parents and people we are today.

Without question I know that before we were even born, we had agreed to come into this lifetime in these roles to learn the lessons we were meant to. That may sound too woo-woo for some of you, but if you consider the timing of when you met your partner, you may feel the role divine timing had in that first meeting. Fun and eye-opening to consider all the meant-to-be's you're experiencing as well.

But when my husband and I stood on that Bema, we couldn’t have known how challenges would test us. We couldn’t have known if we had the resilience to withstand them. We simply had hope, faith, and the belief that we were right for each other. So we said our vows with stars in our eyes and stepped into a future neither of us fully understood.

The Advice That Doesn’t Work

Everyone has heard the classic marriage advice: don’t go to bed angry, keep your sense of humor, and always be honest.

Here’s the thing—it’s impossible to follow advice like that to the letter.

Don’t go to bed angry? Please. When you’re sleep-deprived, facing a night feeding or an early morning practice run for your kid, you choose sleep. A good night’s sleep does more for a healthy conversation than forcing a late-night resolution.
Humor? Yes, humor helps—but only if it’s kind, not biting or passive-aggressive. If you grew up with biting sarcasm or passive-aggressive jokes, you may have to unlearn those habits because they don’t land well with a partner who wasn’t raised that way.
Honesty? Absolutely. But brutal honesty without kindness causes more harm than good. Exhaustion and insecurity distort even well-meant words. Learning to speak truth with kindness—and giving yourself time before you speak—is far more valuable than blurting raw feelings in the heat of the moment.

The Advice That Actually Matters

What I wish someone had told me at 23 is this:

Do the inner work, and keep doing it. It’s not a one-and-done deal.
Give your partner the freedom to do their own work, too.
Drop the false bravado—you don’t need all the answers right away.
Allow time and space before responding when tensions rise.
Stay coachable and flexible; adaptability is a sign of strength, not weakness.

Nobody in my family ever said, “Know yourself, allow your partner to grow, and don’t take every damn thing personally.” My husband didn’t hear it either. We had to learn it on our own. And honestly, that’s been much of the work of marriage—discovering together what nobody taught us.

The Village and the Ride

Longevity in marriage isn’t just about the couple—it’s also about the people you surround yourselves with. Trusted friends and family become your safety bar on the roller coaster of life. These are the ones who hold your hand through fear and joy without judgment, who let you morph and try new things without dragging you down with their own insecurities.

As parents, we want nothing more than for our kids to grow, explore, and find their passions. We don’t panic when they change hobbies or direction—we cheer them on. Yet, in marriage, when one partner evolves, fear and resistance can surface: Why are they changing? Don’t they love me anymore? We rarely see that change has nothing to do with us—it’s about their own growth, just as ours is about ours.

Opportunity for Growth and Joy

When I think about the jobs that brought me the most joy—camp counselor, teacher, yoga instructor, healer, and above all, mom—they all share one thing: helping others grow. And as I help others, I always learn something new about myself.

In my opinion, that’s the essence of a long-standing marriage: it’s an ongoing opportunity for personal and shared growth. It’s embracing joy in the work of loving another human. It’s knowing when something isn’t working and taking a different path. Sometimes that means walking alone for a bit, trusting your partner or family will catch up. Sometimes they don’t.

For me, I’m grateful that after 37 years of ups, downs, twists, and turns, my husband and I are still buckled in side by side, hands clasped, enjoying the roller coaster ride together.

Growing Yourself to Grow Together

The heart of lasting relationships—whether with a spouse, children, or anyone else—is the relationship you have with yourself. The deeper you know and heal yourself, the more patience, love, and resilience you have for the people you care about most.

So, when you've seen me say or write, "When you understand how your wheels turn, you can drive the vehicle of your body anywyere," it's for a purpose and my mission. I help people discover and strengthen the relationship they have with themselves first, so they may have a better relationship with everyone else in their lives.

How I do that is a variety of ways, through yoga, Reiki healing, energetic discussions and more, usually with the lens of the chakra system. So in that way, consider my own words above and how they relate to each wheel because each of our chakras offers a doorway to deeper self-understanding:

Root (Safety & Stability): Build a strong foundation and release fear of change.
Sacral (Emotions & Creativity): Understand your needs and desires without guilt.
Solar Plexus (Confidence & Boundaries): Learn to stand in your power without overpowering others.
Heart (Love & Compassion): Heal old wounds and open to deeper connection.
Throat (Communication & Truth): Speak honestly and kindly, and learn to truly listen.
Third Eye (Intuition & Clarity): See beyond old beliefs and create a clearer path forward.
Crown (Spiritual Connection): Trust in something larger than yourself to guide your growth.

Suppose you’re feeling stuck, unsure of yourself, or ready for more joy and connection in your marriage or relationships. In that case, I’d love to help you reconnect with yourself—because when you do, every relationship in your life transforms.

I'd be honored to assist you in any way I can, today or any day. If you'd like to schedule a free consultation, please click here:

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Thank you for reading!

Namaste,

Lauri

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