April and John sat in my office in much better shape than a lot of couples. No adultery. No abuse. No addiction. Yet they weren't happy. They loved each other. The relationship wasn't over. They made the appointment in hopes that I could give them something to make them feel as though they were headed in the right direction. They felt stuck.

Part of it was understandable. They were in a season of life in which feeling connected and in love is complicated. Their kids were young. John's career was demanding. April's tasks at home were harder and with far less adulation than a traditional career. They just wanted some hope.

As we talked, I gave them some encouragement. A friend often reminds couples to rate their marriage on a scale of 1-10 and for every child they have under the age of seven, add a point. April and John could add three points. It was a tough season of life.

One month after that meeting, I ran into April and John. Their faces looked different--lighter, happier. In conversation, I asked how things were. "Nothing has changed, but everything is different," April said. I knew exactly what she meant.

It's the outcome I wanted when I gave them this assignment one month earlier.