"Like" the Patheos Catholic Page on Facebook to receive today's best commentary on Catholic issues.
Marc Chagall, "Wedding" (1910)

Like many survivors of breast cancer, I have some serious battle scars. My un-bandaged body after breast cancer certainly made for some interesting pillow talk between my husband and myself.

Going into the crisis long ago, we barely considered what it would mean for our love. But when I was done with all the treatment, the question lingered unspoken in the air—what would our marriage look like? Stranger still, what would it feel like?

I knew he loved me before all the surgeries. Fourteen happy years and three children assured me of that. But we had never really, really been tested by the experience of heartache, loss, and fear that a cancer diagnosis brings.

In the aftermath, I could not begin to fathom what our intimate moments might be like, now that I had been surgically taken apart and permanently altered.

My husband just smiled and kissed the boo-boos. And he never stopped.

The miraculous healing power of lips to scars transformed the broken hearts and the marriage that cancer had tried to lay to waste, better than life-saving surgery ever could.

He later told me that it was graces of inviting Christ into our marriage on our wedding day at work. The power of the vows permeating every aspect of our lives, and even the blessing of chastity had come back, to aid us in those first post-cancer episodes. We had stood at that altar and vowed to love one another—sight unseen in terms of what was yet to be consummated—and pledging to accept the all of the other.

And it has been that way ever since. We will take it all, the good and the not so good, as long as we could stay by each other's side. With God's help, we will not alter the vow we made at the altar.

After nearly thirty years together, we've lived all the exquisite highs of love and marriage and family life. Sure, there have been setbacks and disappointments. We know there are more to come. Yet we've walked together through the excruciating moments that have befallen us, thanks to the graces available in the Sacrament of Matrimony.

Two keys keep us walking in sync. First, as a married couple we exist for one another's mutual sanctification in and through Christ. Second, we try to remember not to scorn the struggle of suffering when it comes.

We keep the big picture ever before us: we each have a responsibility to help bring the other to heaven. The unchanging truth and graces of a sacramental marriage always trump the feelings that come and go, for the goods of marriage are objectively just, charitable, and beautiful.

Our marriage is a vowed life until death. We know one of us will get there first. We just don't know how or when.

So when headlines shout to us about making physician-assisted suicide legal, or whether or not it is ethical for a "healthy" spouse to divorce a "sick" spouse because the illness has robbed the marriage of its protracted happiness, we know that we have to redouble our efforts to affirm life and love.