Post by Random Prince on Jan 31, 2009 6:08:42 GMT -5
Jodi is always very open about her faith and how it has helped her marriage, but she first spoke about this in an article she wrote for Guideposts magazine in 1992. I've heard about the article in the past and always wanted to read it, so I was very happy to find it yesterday. 
www.guideposts.com/story/broadway-marriage-counseling
It's a great story. I've always thought Jodi's life has had similarities to Ariel's - a young girl with big dreams setting out to make them come true and making a difference in the world. It's nice to know she got the "happily ever after" too.
www.guideposts.com/story/broadway-marriage-counseling
Can Fairy Tales Come True?
A Broadway star faces the realities of a two-career marriage.
By Jodi Benson, New York, New York
July, 1992
It should have been a high point in my life. Instead, it was one of the lowest.
My career had taken off and I was being photographed for the cover of an album I was doing called Songs from the Beginner's Bible. "We'd like some pictures of you and your husband together," the art director said. And suddenly there Ray and I were, smiling at the camera with our arms around each other, posing all lovey-dovey as though we were a fairy-tale couple.
But our marriage wasn't a fairy tale. In fact, our relationship had disintegrated so badly that we could barely talk to each other. As the photographer clicked away, both of us felt terribly hypocritical and dishonest. How could we keep pretending? Was there any hope at all for our marriage? Or were we too, like so many other couples juggling two careers today, about to be divorced?
I met Ray when I was 18, out of Rockford, Illinois, and just starting to work in professional theater. Ray too was an actor, singer and dancer, and I was struck by his kindness and humbleness. We were married when I was 22, and we expected to live happily ever after.
But we were full of dreams—and always busy. I went on cross-country tours in Sophisticated Ladies and West Side Story. Ray was traveling in Dreamgirls and Oklahoma! Somehow we thought our marriage would simply maintain itself without much work on our part, that our individual temperaments and needs would mesh automatically.
Well, they didn't. When Ray and I disagreed or had different ideas about something, I'd panic and think, Maybe we aren't supposed to be together, or, I guess we don't love each other anymore. The arguments would start, and we'd say hurtful things to each other. It got worse and worse, until we not only didn't feel in love, but we didn't even feel like friends.
Then I got a job with Walt Disney Studios as the voice of Ariel in the film The Little Mermaid. For over two years I talked and sang my way through the written script while the Disney animators sketched my expressions and actions. During that time I became good friends with one of the animators and his wife, and as the months passed, Ray and I found ourselves opening up to them about our troubles. "We don't want to get a divorce," I said. "But we also don't want a marriage that's just on paper. We know God wants us to have an abundant life, and our marriage is giving us anything but that."
Our friends told us about a man and woman who did Christian counseling for couples and suggested we get in touch. I was reluctant, but gradually Ray and I started to talk to them, sometimes one to one, sometimes all four of us in person or on the phone. At first it was hard to share such private feelings of failure and disappointment. And the last thing I wanted was someone telling me what I should be feeling or how Ray and I should be acting.
But our counselors never tried to tell us that what Ray and I were going through was strange and wrong, even though our marriage seemed to be getting worse. "There are rocky times in the best marriages," they said. "No couples have warm, fuzzy feelings toward each other constantly. But you don't always live by feelings; you live by the commitment you have made, by the respect you have for each other."
By this time The Little Mermaid had been released. Because of its popularity, jobs were coming in for me right and left. And then came the photo session where I was asked to pose with my husband.
At that point things were so bad between Ray and me that we'd actually separated and were living in different apartments. But as painful as that was, living the lie of that happy couple in the photo session was even worse. Both of us felt the hypocrisy.
One spring night, after praying on the phone with my counselor, I burst into tears. "Ray and I can't go on this way anymore," I said.
She agreed. "The time has come for you to make a decision. Why don't you two pick a time in the near future when you both can take a month off and be together? Pray. Examine the commitment you made to each other. Then ask God to confirm that the decision you come to—whether to stay together or to part for good—is the right one. It's a little like laying down a fleece."
Laying down a fleece? And then I remembered. In the Old Testament story, Gideon was seeking confirmation from God that he should lead his soldiers into battle. He asked God for a sign that would help him with his decision. One night he left outdoors the fleece of a sheep, and the next morning although the ground was dry, the fleece was soaked with dew. The following morning the opposite happened: Although the grass was covered with dew, the fleece was completely dry.
All right, we'd try. Ray and I met with our counselors and we all decided that August would be the month we'd lay down our own fleece and ask God to confirm our decision. But could our marriage be saved? It seemed impossible!
Until August, we continued to live apart. But in preparation for that time, Ray and I looked closely at the commitment we'd made to each other and to God. We kept lines of communication open. We vowed not to manufacture or force any false "positive" feelings or emotions, but we wouldn't let the door slam between us either. And we'd continue to talk to our counselors, relax and let things rest in the hands of God.
Things started to happen. All of a sudden Ray and I would look at each other and our feelings would start to rekindle. Our friendship started growing again. Our phone conversations, instead of being brisk and to the point, started lasting longer as we talked about deeper subjects.
My father and mother had divorced when I was 11, and I had a lot of anger that I'd never expressed—anger that was affecting my attitudes toward Ray. I realized how much I'd wanted Ray to be a "father" to me instead of an equal and loving partner. And Ray too realized that he carried a lot of hurt from his own childhood.
We talked. We met for dinner. We saw each other more and more. We weren't trying to be in love again, we just...were.
August arrived, our month of decision. Ray moved back in. Suddenly, week by week, our love grew in a steady, more mature way. When I had to make a business trip for Disney to London, I asked Ray to join me, and we extended the trip into a vacation.
We had put down our fleece, and it was clear that this new love we felt for each other was indeed our sign from God. We decided to stay together, to make our marriage work.
Today I'm the star of a smash hit on Broadway called Crazy for You. I'll also be the voice of Thumbelina in an animated feature film this fall, as well as the voice of The Little Mermaid in the TV series. Ray has had great roles in Falsettos and A Little Night Music and now he's Joseph in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.
Ray and I just celebrated our eighth wedding anniversary—and this time when we put our arms around each other and smiled, there was no pretending.
For couples out there who think their marriage is dead, I just want to tell them: A marriage can be revived. It can come alive again, even better than before.
Do fairy tales happen? Maybe it doesn't seem like they do—but then you stop and think: When love is revived in this way...maybe it is like a fairy tale after all.
A Broadway star faces the realities of a two-career marriage.
By Jodi Benson, New York, New York
July, 1992
It should have been a high point in my life. Instead, it was one of the lowest.
My career had taken off and I was being photographed for the cover of an album I was doing called Songs from the Beginner's Bible. "We'd like some pictures of you and your husband together," the art director said. And suddenly there Ray and I were, smiling at the camera with our arms around each other, posing all lovey-dovey as though we were a fairy-tale couple.
But our marriage wasn't a fairy tale. In fact, our relationship had disintegrated so badly that we could barely talk to each other. As the photographer clicked away, both of us felt terribly hypocritical and dishonest. How could we keep pretending? Was there any hope at all for our marriage? Or were we too, like so many other couples juggling two careers today, about to be divorced?
I met Ray when I was 18, out of Rockford, Illinois, and just starting to work in professional theater. Ray too was an actor, singer and dancer, and I was struck by his kindness and humbleness. We were married when I was 22, and we expected to live happily ever after.
But we were full of dreams—and always busy. I went on cross-country tours in Sophisticated Ladies and West Side Story. Ray was traveling in Dreamgirls and Oklahoma! Somehow we thought our marriage would simply maintain itself without much work on our part, that our individual temperaments and needs would mesh automatically.
Well, they didn't. When Ray and I disagreed or had different ideas about something, I'd panic and think, Maybe we aren't supposed to be together, or, I guess we don't love each other anymore. The arguments would start, and we'd say hurtful things to each other. It got worse and worse, until we not only didn't feel in love, but we didn't even feel like friends.
Then I got a job with Walt Disney Studios as the voice of Ariel in the film The Little Mermaid. For over two years I talked and sang my way through the written script while the Disney animators sketched my expressions and actions. During that time I became good friends with one of the animators and his wife, and as the months passed, Ray and I found ourselves opening up to them about our troubles. "We don't want to get a divorce," I said. "But we also don't want a marriage that's just on paper. We know God wants us to have an abundant life, and our marriage is giving us anything but that."
Our friends told us about a man and woman who did Christian counseling for couples and suggested we get in touch. I was reluctant, but gradually Ray and I started to talk to them, sometimes one to one, sometimes all four of us in person or on the phone. At first it was hard to share such private feelings of failure and disappointment. And the last thing I wanted was someone telling me what I should be feeling or how Ray and I should be acting.
But our counselors never tried to tell us that what Ray and I were going through was strange and wrong, even though our marriage seemed to be getting worse. "There are rocky times in the best marriages," they said. "No couples have warm, fuzzy feelings toward each other constantly. But you don't always live by feelings; you live by the commitment you have made, by the respect you have for each other."
By this time The Little Mermaid had been released. Because of its popularity, jobs were coming in for me right and left. And then came the photo session where I was asked to pose with my husband.
At that point things were so bad between Ray and me that we'd actually separated and were living in different apartments. But as painful as that was, living the lie of that happy couple in the photo session was even worse. Both of us felt the hypocrisy.
One spring night, after praying on the phone with my counselor, I burst into tears. "Ray and I can't go on this way anymore," I said.
She agreed. "The time has come for you to make a decision. Why don't you two pick a time in the near future when you both can take a month off and be together? Pray. Examine the commitment you made to each other. Then ask God to confirm that the decision you come to—whether to stay together or to part for good—is the right one. It's a little like laying down a fleece."
Laying down a fleece? And then I remembered. In the Old Testament story, Gideon was seeking confirmation from God that he should lead his soldiers into battle. He asked God for a sign that would help him with his decision. One night he left outdoors the fleece of a sheep, and the next morning although the ground was dry, the fleece was soaked with dew. The following morning the opposite happened: Although the grass was covered with dew, the fleece was completely dry.
All right, we'd try. Ray and I met with our counselors and we all decided that August would be the month we'd lay down our own fleece and ask God to confirm our decision. But could our marriage be saved? It seemed impossible!
Until August, we continued to live apart. But in preparation for that time, Ray and I looked closely at the commitment we'd made to each other and to God. We kept lines of communication open. We vowed not to manufacture or force any false "positive" feelings or emotions, but we wouldn't let the door slam between us either. And we'd continue to talk to our counselors, relax and let things rest in the hands of God.
Things started to happen. All of a sudden Ray and I would look at each other and our feelings would start to rekindle. Our friendship started growing again. Our phone conversations, instead of being brisk and to the point, started lasting longer as we talked about deeper subjects.
My father and mother had divorced when I was 11, and I had a lot of anger that I'd never expressed—anger that was affecting my attitudes toward Ray. I realized how much I'd wanted Ray to be a "father" to me instead of an equal and loving partner. And Ray too realized that he carried a lot of hurt from his own childhood.
We talked. We met for dinner. We saw each other more and more. We weren't trying to be in love again, we just...were.
August arrived, our month of decision. Ray moved back in. Suddenly, week by week, our love grew in a steady, more mature way. When I had to make a business trip for Disney to London, I asked Ray to join me, and we extended the trip into a vacation.
We had put down our fleece, and it was clear that this new love we felt for each other was indeed our sign from God. We decided to stay together, to make our marriage work.
Today I'm the star of a smash hit on Broadway called Crazy for You. I'll also be the voice of Thumbelina in an animated feature film this fall, as well as the voice of The Little Mermaid in the TV series. Ray has had great roles in Falsettos and A Little Night Music and now he's Joseph in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.
Ray and I just celebrated our eighth wedding anniversary—and this time when we put our arms around each other and smiled, there was no pretending.
For couples out there who think their marriage is dead, I just want to tell them: A marriage can be revived. It can come alive again, even better than before.
Do fairy tales happen? Maybe it doesn't seem like they do—but then you stop and think: When love is revived in this way...maybe it is like a fairy tale after all.
It's a great story. I've always thought Jodi's life has had similarities to Ariel's - a young girl with big dreams setting out to make them come true and making a difference in the world. It's nice to know she got the "happily ever after" too.
Daniel 
