Meyers say the search for a faithful and happy life can be an arduous, but fulfilling, journey

There was no addiction, abuse, or infidelity. Both spouses were sincerely striving to live out their shared Catholic faith. Husband, wife, and kids were all in good health. They were making ends meet with something left over for savings. They were less than half a year away from launching their successful side business, Fiat Coffee. The arguments, which had tended to be more tense than heated anyway, had largely faded away. 

But somehow, Easter Sunday 2023 was the darkest point in their marriage, says Lindsey Meyer.

Feeling alienated from the man she had vowed to love until death, she laid it on the line for her husband, Jordan Meyer. 

He remembers the moment well. “She said, ‘Look, I will always be married to you. I will always love you. I will raise our children with you, but I can’t give you my heart anymore,’” Jordan recounted. “We were at rock bottom.”

Lukewarm Catholics

Jordan usually tells people he met Lindsey outside a bookstore when they were both students at Kansas State University. Except the bookstore was closed at that wee hour, and last call had come and gone in the numerous bars that line the streets of Manhattan’s Aggieville district. Jordan and some buddies were wandering the sidewalk when they encountered Lindsey and her friends. As conversation ensued, Jordan surprised both himself and Lindsey. 

“He asked if I was Catholic, which caught me off guard,” Lindsey said. “Few boys asked that question. I’m not sure what prompted him to.”

She confirmed that she was Catholic, and he got her phone number. A few days later they went out for coffee, and before long, they were attending Sunday Mass together, even if that activity was more of an obligatory box to check than a cornerstone on which to build the rest of their week. “It was important to go to Mass on Sunday, but other than that, we were not practicing the faith much,” Lindsey said. “We had a very worldly mindset and were quite lukewarm.”

That didn’t change after they were engaged, she says, and points to their immediate rejection of natural family planning. Menstrual cycle issues had made the birth control pill a fixture since Lindsey’s teen years, she says, so when the subject of NFP arose during their Engaged Encounter weekend, they ignored it.

“I thought, ‘That does not pertain to me because I have medical reasons to be on birth control,” Lindsey said. “Plus, we were both pursuing our careers, and it would be inconvenient to start a family at the time.”

Jordan was on the road to becoming a doctor; Lindsey had a doctorate in physical therapy. Whether the subject came up among their medical colleagues or their wider social circles, questioning the morality of contraception felt like questioning the morality of the light bulb. 

“We thought it was something everyone did,” Lindsey said. “Maybe the Church just needed to get with the times.”

They contracepted during their first years of marriage and ascribed no more moral weight to it than perhaps driving a couple of miles over the speed limit. Lindsey quit taking the pill only when the time seemed right to conceive. “We got pregnant right away with our oldest child, Madelyn” she said. “She was born healthy, and everything was great.”

Breastfeeding considerations dissuaded them from resuming Lindsey’s previous prescription, they recount, but they opted for other, nonchemical contraceptives. That continued until they decided they were ready for another child and conceived again. Everything seemed to be going well until Lindsey’s first OB GYN appointment during that pregnancy, when she was informed that she had miscarried. 

Wrestling with God

“It was a pretty big shock,” Lindsey said. “The news devastated us.”

And much like Jordan had surprised even himself all those years ago on that Aggieville sidewalk by asking Lindsey if she was Catholic, Lindsey soon found herself saying something that surprised even her. “I told Jordan ‘We cannot contracept anymore,’” she said. “‘We act like we can choose if, when, and how to have a child, but it’s not up to us.’”

Lindsey describes it as a ‘Holy Spirit moment,’ and Jordan does not disagree.

“God has a purpose for every person he creates,” Jordan said. “God created life in our unborn baby, Francis, and we think that baby’s intercession really kick-started our reversion to the Catholic faith.”

The Meyers hungered for more than mere do’s and don’ts. Seeking to grasp the “why” alongside the “how,” they read Humanae Vitae, Pope Paul VI’s 1968 encyclical letter on procreation and sexuality, as well as portions of St. John Paul II’s Theology of the Body. The material resonated almost immediately with Lindsey, but Jordan faced a very practical hurdle.

“I wrestled with the question of ‘What if the Church is wrong here?’” he said. “I was practicing medicine as part of my residency for becoming an OB GYN. Why do people go to an OB GYN? Babies and birth control. I wondered what I was going to do to my career.”

That sincere and vigorous grappling, however, meant that when Church teaching triumphed in Jordan’s mind and heart, the victory was decisive. “The wrestling solidified it even more,” he said. “Discovering the truth was eye-opening.”

Jordan says his strongest “Holy Spirit moment” in that regard came during May 2020 on the first weekend of in-person Masses at the end of the Covid-19 shutdown. The trials and travails of getting young children ready for church had them arriving late to Wichita’s St. Catherine of Siena Parish, and so they found themselves sitting in the front row.

“Fr. Dan Spexarth’s homily that morning was on the subject of vocation,” Jordan said. “I experienced a strong, warm feeling, it felt very personal, and in that moment it all made sense. I knew it was important, and I was all-in.”

Rehabilitation and renaissance

It was a turning point, not a happily ever after. That rock-bottom conversation was still years away.

Nevertheless, the Meyers say, their individual and shared spiritual lives enjoyed a genuine renaissance – after some rehabilitation. 

“Had we truly known the magnitude of it, I do not think we would have contracepted,” Lindsey said. “We went to confession and did penance after the fact, but we still feel it is important to be open about that part of our marriage because it’s so relatable. We weren’t completely ignorant. We made that choice, but at the same time, we didn’t have a lot of guidance. I wish we would have heard about this when we were younger because it might have nudged us on the right path sooner.”

Their marriage improved as they found themselves weeding out much of the distrust and isolation that had insidiously taken root. “There was always this thought of, ‘I don’t know if I should bring this up with my spouse,’ out of fear of being judged,” Jordan said. “Being open with God and confessing hard things is uncomfortable but necessary. It’s the same with your spouse. Discussing hard topics can be painful even when you’re not arguing, but it starts to build trust, and you see the fruit. When we started centering our marriage on Christ, we had the common ground of our eternal endpoint. That really helps a marriage grow.”

Blame the residency

Turning a corner five and a half years into marriage called for some major life adjustments, but adjustments were par for the course during Jordan’s grueling residency schedule at a Wichita hospital.  

“Spouses of the residents are told by staff to not blame the residents for their demanding workloads,” Lindsey said. “We are told to blame the residency, and I did that for four years.”

Meanwhile, Lindsey was working her own long hours as a physical therapist while her parents watched Madelyn and their son, Samuel, during the workday. 

“I would get home after our oldest child had eaten dinner and spend – at most – a couple of hours with our children before they went to bed,” Lindsey said. “Then I got on my computer to update notes for work and prepare for the next day in order to do it all again. It took a massive toll on me and the kids.”

Shifting Lindsey’s schedule to allow for more time at home in the evenings helped a little, but the fact that Jordan was putting in roughly 100 hours a week at the hospital meant that the vast majority of parental duties fell on her shoulders. “We decided it was best for our family if I stayed home,” she said. “In the back of my mind, I hoped that our marriage and family life might change once Jordan graduated residency.”

Every time Jordan missed an event or was otherwise absent or unavailable, Lindsey repeated a silent mantra: “I said, ‘We just have to survive residency, then things will get better.’”

Jordan shared that hope, and when he graduated residency and started private practice, that hope seemed realistic. 

A recurring argument

It was another turning point, not a happily ever after. That rock-bottom conversation was still in the future, and this time things got worse before they got better. 

During residency, the family gave Jordan a pass for his many absences because he had no choice, but once he became his own boss, the buck stopped with him. “It was a lot more personal,” he said. “Maybe I wasn’t on call, but if one of my patients went into labor, I left dinner to handle that delivery. Or maybe I would be up all night and be grouchy the next day with our kids.”

It wasn’t only that Lindsey couldn’t count on Jordan to be there at dinner, bath, and bedtime. Outings, whether out of town or to church, saw Jordan always driving separately in case of a hospital call. Those came often, regardless of whether he was on call. 

“Even if he was with us physically, he was away mentally because of concern for a patient who had gone into the hospital,” Lindsey said. “He truly cared about how that person was doing.”

And what was Jordan supposed to do? Many of the finest doctors he knew apparently chose their patients over their families all the time. “It was an expectation,” he said. “If I want to be the best and provide great care, who is going to sacrifice? My wife and my children.”

And what was Lindsey supposed to do? Complain that her husband was doing his utmost to take exemplary care of his patients? “Jordan was doing a lot of good in the world of Catholic medicine, and a lot of folks would comment to us about the importance of good Catholic doctors,” she said. “He was helping a lot of people, walking with them and taking care of them. When I felt let down about our family life, I also felt very selfish.”

The rich feast of family life for which they had hoped was becoming an increasingly thin gruel. Their marital connection seemed to have worn away to a single thread: the division of labor in the care of their growing family, which added Luke in 2021 and Simon in 2023. 

Even when Jordan was home, work had wrung him out so thoroughly he risked nodding off anytime he was on the couch. Meals were hit and miss. Free time to unwind, exercise, or engage in hobbies seemed absurd. 

Jordan sensed something had to give, but practical and altruistic considerations suggested it could not be his job. “What we were doing wasn’t working, but the debt payments associated with medical school and doctorate training are so crippling that you have to work as a physician to make those payments and still make ends meet,” he said. “I also was providing good care for a lot of patients, and if I switched my line of work, I would not be able to do that.”

So Jordan and Lindsey engaged in a recurring argument about work/family balance. Early experiments had Jordan adjust his schedule to the point at which he was home three days a week. Another toyed with his call schedule in hopes of accelerating his loan repayment. Ultimately, nothing proved feasible.

“We were miserable,” Jordan said. “We kept having that same argument, which would usually end with me telling Lindsey, ‘I promise I will do everything I can to make this better.’”

“Then, a few months later, I would be let down again,” Lindsey said. “I felt like being married to someone with a very successful and demanding career was just the cross I needed to bear.”

Therefore, she figured it was high time to invest all her emotional capital in the children and stop hoping for a satisfying marriage. It was at that point, on Easter Sunday 2023, when Lindsey told Jordan as much. 

Rediscovery

Lindsey only thought Jordan’s days with her heart were over. A conversation with a good friend convinced her that resigning themselves to a middling marriage was not God’s will, no matter how often Lindsey deemed it her cross. “She reminded me no one else in the world except Jordan can be my husband, and that nobody can replace Jordan as our children’s father,” Lindsey said. “That is Jordan’s primary vocation. A good doctor may be replaceable, but nobody can replace your husband and father.”

That resonated with Jordan too. After much prayer and discernment, Jordan pulled out of private practice in late summer 2024 to devote himself more fully to their family. “The world says ‘Give everything to your career, and the money and consumable goods that come from it are going to bring you happiness,’” he said. “For us, that brought the opposite.”

Jordan still works as a doctor, though for fewer hours and with shorter-term arrangements. “We have been able to find work that allows us to live like we want to.” Lindsey said. “It allows us to put a roof over our heads and to put our efforts into living out our Catholic faith, growing our marriage, focusing on our family, and living a good, happy life.”

“We took a leap,” Jordan said. “I quit my job without another one lined up, and, since then, God has opened up so many doors that still allow me to work as a physician that I have to turn some work down.”

This time, family life has grown by leaps and bounds. Some of the signals are humorous, such as young Luke’s happy confusion over what initially seemed to be an increased frequency of weekends – since that was generally the main time Dad was around. Other signs are subtle but reassuring, such as Lindsey’s perception that much of the kids’ anxiety has evaporated.

The spouses are more intentional about their time too, going so far as to institute a weekly couples meeting. Considering that they also own Fiat Coffee roasters, such a running appointment may sound like a practical requirement for the figurative Meyer & Meyer parent company co-CEOs to manage the household, but they discuss far more than logistics. “It’s ‘How are you feeling? How do you feel we are connecting? How do you feel our kids are doing?’” Lindsey said. “We put it on the schedule, because if it’s not, we forget about it.”

Before they settled into that weekly meeting groove, however, they first had to reconnect as a couple. Those two ships that had passed each other in the night for so long dropped anchor side by side. “We did not sleep for like three weeks,” Lindsey said. “We would stay awake and talk until 3 or 4 a.m. every night.”

As a sanguine temperament, Lindsey said she did much of the talking, but the quieter, more phlegmatic Jordan soon found his verbal stride well enough to keep pace. “I literally Googled ‘marriage connection questions’ and found tons of interesting questions to discuss with your spouse,” Lindsey said. “I made Jordan talk with me.”

“It was a big adjustment,” Jordan said. “Then we started reading and discussing certain books together. We have gotten to the point where conversation is very easy.”

Reinforcing that bond has borne fruit that, at times, is all the sweeter for its subtle simplicity. And now when they drive to Mass at Sacred Heart Parish in Colwich, they all travel in a single vehicle. Much as they point to that Easter Sunday 2023 alienation as their marriage’s low point – despite the lack of horrific and vivid drama – they now marvel at the astounding beauty of the mundanities of everyday family life, which is about to change again, with Lindsey scheduled to give birth to their fourth son in late August. 

“Life is still full of highs and lows, but we feel like we are living the sort of happy life that we always imagined married couples should,” Jordan said. “The other day, we were making pizza – and maybe it’s because pizza is such a happy thing – I was very present there in our house . . . I was just so happy to be there doing nothing more special than chopping vegetables.”

The Meyer family shows off varieties of Fiat Coffee roasts, children from left, Madelyn, who is now age eight; Simon, who is two; Luke, who is four; and Samuel, who is six. Lindsey is scheduled to deliver the family’s fourth boy in late August. Anyone interested in trying Fiat Coffee, which directs 20% of its proceeds to benefit pro-life causes, can learn more at https://fiat-coffee.com (Courtesy photo)

To see an April 2024 Catholic Advance article about Fiat Coffee, click here.