Thoughtful Thursday

Marriage is one of those great paradoxes.

In the one hand you must hold it tightly, unyielding to external assault, persevering against internal ruin, tenacious in your maintenance. It is a flame in your arsenal of light.

In the other hand you must hold it loosely, understanding it as an earthly gift, a construct for a time and place, and refuse to give to it all the weight which eternal things claim.

We often see the results of holding it too loosely or holding it too tightly. The world errors in the first way and the church errors in the second way, often treating marriage and healthy families as the means to saving the culture and the world. The Bible is clear: only the gospel is that means. Our marriage to Christ is the only eternal marriage.

C.S. Lewis on love: “Like most of the other things which humans are excited about, such as health and sickness, age and youth, or war and peace, it is, from the point of view of the spiritual life, mainly raw material.”

Its goodness and importance are undeniable. Its idolization is untenable.

Wonderful Wednesday

A couple of weeks ago, I was going through a hard time and pointedly reminded Matt that I needed to be cared for. Sometimes, when a wife is strong, and life is busy, I think a man forgets to cosset her now-and-again. But she does indeed need to be cared for, especially if she is like me - prone to running around caring for everyone else. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), I am very open about my needs. :D hehe. Matt rose to the occasion valiantly with breakfast in bed (complete with my tulips!) Bravo, dear.

Flower Friday

Is my blog being reduced to a series of pictures? Am I okay with this? I was telling Matthew the other day that I finally figured out why I love Amaryllis so much. It's symmetrical. Matt and symmetrical are diabolically opposed, whereas I love symmetry. Though we've had some strained house-arrangement conversations when moving, the off-centered cycling photo in the background is a clear sign we've met in the middle.

Why

My neighbor, a young lady with a serious boyfriend, recently asked me some relationship advice. She said she admired my marriage to Matt. In thinking on it for a heartbeat, I told her I couldn't really take credit for my marriage; that it was good but not because of anything I did. She looked confused. I told her it was all Matt.

But we know that a good marriage can't happen if it's all one-sided, right? So, in the sing-song words of Maria to Captain Von Trapp, I must have done something good. I grow more and more convinced that isn't true. I didn't find the magic formula or become the perfect person. Yet, my marriage is rather amazing.

This is what I AM convinced of: that my marriage is a gift I receive and not something I create with my own hands. Not that I'm avoiding responsibility. But God does everything good in my marriage, whether it's through me or despite me.

I'm prone to asking 'why' in life. Why do I have this gift when others do not?

The truth is God gives each of us our fair share of gifts and heartaches. I don't know why some have the gift of a great marriage and others have the heartache of a bad one. I don't know why some have the gift of good parents and others have the heartache of messed up parents. I don't know why some have the gift of health and others have the heartache of illness. I don't know why some have the gift of financial security and some have the heartache of constant struggle. I don't know why some have the gift of faith and some have the heartache of continual doubt. I don't know why some have the gift of acceptance and others the heartache of rejection. I don't know why some have the gift of children and others the heartache of barrenness. 

I'm not holier or smarter or better because I have a great marriage.  And you're not more sinful because your heartbreak was in marriage. Many who long for my gift have a gift of their own that I long for with equal fervor. My neighbor lives with her parents: sweet, emotionally stable and engaging, functional, responsible people with boundaries. But instead of paining me to see, I simply understand my gifts and heartaches are divided out differently. We are not the same and yet we feel the same things as all humans do. God is drawing both of us closer to Him accordingly. And this is the answer why.

Somewhere, a Butterfly

My friends Sarah and Rick [photo: imagesbyrebekah.com]

I keep thinking, "This will be my last" as my heart pounds wildly and my palms start turning sweaty. An acquaintance becomes dearer or a beloved asks a favor and I find myself in this familiar place: an empty decorated church, waiting, breathing in those peaceful moments before everything starts forever. I rehearse in my mind endlessly. I can't help but think "What if everything goes horribly wrong? What if I screw this up? What if I turn the happiest day of her life into the most stressful?" And then from pondering to practicalities "What if it rains, what if the musician misses his cue? What if it takes longer than 2.5 seconds for her to move into the foyer? What if she moves into it before the doors get closed? What if candle wax catches the lace tablecloth and WHERE IS THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER??" 

When people tell me I'm a calming presence, I try not to laugh at them. I breathe deeply to stay the panic. I shrug off problems like they're no big deal. The sound guy left before the reception? No biggie, I'll run the sound system myself (where is the "on" button?). I answer questions with a smile: 'Of course the pastor will be here any minute!' (I have no idea). I make decisions pretending they were thought of months ago: 'It's totally okay if they eat pizza in the library.' (if not, I'll destroy all the evidence).

I see myself as the gap-stop. I take the hits so the major players don't feel them. I'm the buffer - the defensive linebacker. I create the space for movement to happen unfettered and seamless. My job is to get an ulcer so no one else does. Which is perhaps why I keep saying "yes". I have a savior-complex. This is not a good thing.

In reality, I'm just directing chaos. So there's a line out the front door and it's time to start. Grab some extra groomsmen to usher, give it 10 minutes and everything should shake out *prayers and finger-crossed*.

All of this is just symbolism. But what symbolism! Rarely do I feel and see such beauty as in a wedding ceremony: emotionally, practically, culturally, spiritually. Some strange heavenly longing feeds my thirst and I drink up these prophetic glimpses of: Love. Sacrifice. Purity. Community. Unity. Commitment. And even if there is an inherent chaos I'll never totally save them from: somewhere, a butterfly flaps its wings, a storms brews, and a man and a woman become one.