Catholic at Home | Katie Sciba

When I met my husband, there was something fantastically different about him. I was surrounded by faithful friends, each unreservedly devout, but Andrew’s closeness with Christ was contagious.

While we dated long-distance, I went from hardly praying the Rosary to faithfully reciting it daily at the same time Andrew did. It helped bridge our geographical distance and made me feel more connected to him. Despite being fueled by enthusiasm and the novelty of our relationship, my attempt to stay close to Andrew yielded a devotion to our Lord and His Mother that I hadn’t experienced before. There was a grace in our relationship that took me further up and further in with my own love for Jesus. So, when he popped the question, the answer was as clear as the diamond on my finger: If dating Andrew brought stronger devotion to Christ, then marriage with him was my path to being with Christ for eternity. 

The grace from those starry-eyed early days upheld us when real life settled in, especially when it came to being merciful with each other. Simply put, mercy is when the capable act for the incapable. It’s remarkable, isn’t it, how marriage gives you endless chances to show mercy like this? 

There was the time I racked up a small debt, and my husband, who had every right to be upset, said we would handle it together. 

When the job that made him miserable just about broke him, I wrote him a check from our emergency fund that started the business he’s still running. 

Every time he’s tugged me out of bed when I’m pregnant and every time one of us extends empathy and forgiveness when the other does wrong, we depend entirely on the Lord’s strength. 

“Hey, good news!” I announced to Andrew last summer on our 17th anniversary. “I figured out what marriage is.” 

He raised his brow in amused curiosity, “I’m looking forward to this.” 

“Neither one of us is going anywhere. We’re supposed to stay the way Christ stays.” 

“Stay as Christ stays” has become my foundational motto for every circumstance in our marriage. I have to remember how Jesus remains with souls both in the gospels and now. The Lord stays with us both as a collective church and individually, and when He does, it’s intentional, patient, joyful, and loving.

When Jesus stays, He doesn’t begrudge the commitment, He relishes it.

There’s no wish that He could be somewhere else, He’s fully present. It’s this example from our Lord that can act as an examination of conscience for us. Does your husband or wife know that you remain in the marriage intentionally, patiently, lovingly, and joyfully? Does he or she know that so firm are your mind and heart that when distractions and temptations come, you know to return to an imitation of Christ? 

Even writing it out, I’m struck with the impossibility of it all, even with 17 years under my belt. Still, that’s what Catholic marriage is. We stay, and we help each other along a heavenward course in circumstances of varying gravity, directing and offering each other to Christ while doing our best impressions of His mercy and fidelity. It’s a lot. It’s too much, actually, for us to make good on our end of the covenant without the example and grace of God. 

Look at your own marriage, however young or experienced it is, and identify when grace and grit took hold, helping you to imitate Jesus in your fidelity. Ask the Lord to give you eyes to see how He upheld you and continues to do so. 

After 17 years of for better or worse, I told Andrew that we have concrete evidence that we’re both here to stay; not in a lifeless fashion that collects dust, but in the same way the Lord stays with us. His obvious presence in our beginning and in every instance of support since gives us confidence that we’ll have more experiences of grace and mercy as we add years to our marriage.

This article appeared in the February 2026 edition of The Catholic Telegraph Magazine. For your complimentary subscription, click here.