But Barbara and I are compatible on one thing: divorce isn’t an option. So we simply decided we were going to make this thing work in spite of the fact that we were so incompatible. We didn’t decide it in a day, and we didn’t decide it with gusto and optimism. We simply felt we had no choice but to learn how to live with a person so utterly alien to us.

And it was in that period that we began to learn about martyrdom, about the death of the self, about giving up the desire for compatibility. If marriage wasn’t about how my spouse could make me happier, we each concluded, then it must be about each of us trying to make the other happier. […]

These are simple, ordinary acts of martyrdom, the giving way of self for the sake of the other. Every marriage has plenty of such moments. They can be resisted with complaints—”Why don’t you ever do what I want to do?” and “Why don’t you consider my feelings?” Or they can be submitted to with grace.

This forsaking of compatibility is slow and painful to learn. At the end of the day, Barb and I each feel a sense of regret at not having done more for the other. But every morning there’s a new vow to give it another shot.

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