Our Second Act

He thought they were the perfect couple. Until they weren’t

- IAN MORGAN CRON

I LAY IN BED ASKING A QUESTION I never imagined I’d ask: Was my marriage about to collapse?

My wife, Anne, and I were recent empty nesters. After nearly 25 years working and raising a family in the Northeast, we’d moved to Nashville to start the second act of our life together. I passed the reins to younger leadership at the church I’d planted in Connecticut. Anne left behind a middle school teaching career. Our three kids were away at school. For the first time since our newlywed days, it was just the two of us.

It wasn’t turning out the way I’d planned it would.

Anne had been reluctant to move. She didn’t seem to understand that after a pastor steps down, he can’t keep attending the church he once led. That’s unfair to the new leadership. I needed a change anyway. The church had been my life. Only a clean break would disentangle me from the web of relationships and responsibilities.

I’d grown to love Nashville after spending time here to work on the side as a songwriter, a passion of mine. I urged Anne to keep an open mind, but she valued routine and tranquility. The move felt traumatic to her, she said. I couldn’t understand it. Nashville seemed like a great change of pace to me.

We began arguing the moment we arrived. After years of biting her tongue as a pastor’s wife, Anne suddenly told me what she really thought. Her uncharacteristic bluntness took me aback.

“You’re selfish, Ian,” she said. “I devoted myself to supporting your ministry. Did you ever thank me? Now you’ve dragged me to this place, where I know no one. How long do I have to keep living your life? I don’t even know who I am anymore!”