Rooted in Truth: Learning to Have Honest Conversations in Marriage

One Friday night, early in our marriage, our big date was a value meal from Burger King. That was the plan, that was the budget. When we got home and the order was wrong, Ryan called and let them have it. Over a value meal. That's how much we needed a break. That's also how poorly we'd planned for any of this.

Two Salaries, No Plan

We got engaged knowing we needed another car. Neither of us had ever really talked about money, no budget, no plan, just five months of dating and a lot of "young and in love. So naturally, we decided a new Honda Accord was the answer. We drove up on our wedding day to sign the papers and bring it home. We hadn't technically said "I do" yet, and we were already in debt: a new car and college loans, with two entry-level salaries neither of us had thought through.

Ryan got his first job in Omaha, and we moved into a two-bedroom apartment furnished with my bed, my couch, my mom's old kitchen table and rocking chair, and that new car sitting outside. We supplemented with a newspaper delivery job, and once our first son was born, Ryan took a second job at a sub shop in the mall. The highlight was the free sub we got to bring home for dinner.

Our first Christmas, we didn't think we could afford a tree. I happened to be at my old high school when they were selling leftover trees for five dollars, so I grabbed one and surprised Ryan with it when he got home. A five-dollar tree felt like a win.

The Wake-Up Call

A few years and a promotion later, Ryan was managing his own branch in a small Nebraska town, and we started looking at homes. Ryan and I sat down with our realtor, a man who'd pulled our numbers together, and we realized they simply didn't work. I cried, right there in his office. It wasn't just disappointment about a house. It was facing the truth about habits we'd never actually sat down and named.

That was our wake-up call. We got focused, paid down some bills, and a year later bought our first home.

This didn't happen in one conversation, though. It took years, the same disagreement revisited more than once, slowly getting better at hearing each other instead of defending ourselves. It's an ongoing process of communication and perspective, one that keeps shifting as life and seasons change.

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The Savings Account I Never Knew About

Here's the part that still gets me: around that same time, I found out Ryan had quietly started a small savings account, without us ever discussing it. I remember being upset. We were eating free subs and wrong Burger King orders, and there was money sitting in savings the whole time.

But looking back, it was never dishonesty. It was Ryan being financially responsible in the only way he knew how. It was also the moment I realized we'd never actually learned to talk about money together. We'd just been managing around each other.

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Truth Matters More Than Comfort

After that, we got better, not perfect, but better, at having real conversations about finances: what we wanted, what it would take to get there, what mattered most to each of us. The tension usually showed up in the same place: something I wanted, and something Ryan said we couldn't afford. Me leaning toward "you only live once, let's get the thing." Him leaning toward "let's save, let's be mindful." Two honest instincts, pulling in different directions.

Over the years, on money, tithing, saving, and investing, we've grown closer. Still not perfect. But closer, because we kept having the conversation instead of avoiding it.

I used to avoid hard conversations altogether. They created tension, discomfort, the risk of an argument. But almost every time we actually had them, we walked away with a better understanding of each other, not because one of us won, but because we found a place to meet in the middle. Truth spoken honestly, without giving in and without shutting down, tends to do that.

And money is really just one version of this. The same kind of honesty gets asked of us around parenting, faith, career changes, disappointments, college decisions for the kids, shifting priorities as seasons change, from raising kids to an empty nest to retirement. Just when you think you're finally on the same page about something, life shifts, and you're back at the table again.

That's not a sign something's wrong. That's marriage.

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​This Week's Invitation

Pick one topic where you and your spouse tend to see things differently: money, time, parenting, faith, whatever comes to mind first. This week, bring it up with one goal: to understand their perspective, not to prove a point. Try asking, "Help me understand why this matters to you," and then actually listen to the answer before you share your own.

Truth isn't about winning the conversation. It's about seeing each other more clearly.

Next week, we're talking about Rooted in Rhythm, the small, repeated habits that quietly keep a marriage connected, or quietly let it drift.

With you in it,

Tonya

Did you miss the introduction to my four-part series on nurturing your marriage with faith and intention? Catch up here.​