Fifteen years ago today, this guy asked me if I wanted to start dating. I said yes.
He stole my phone this morning and set several alarms.
Alarm #1: Jim Brickman's song Love of My Life and it went off repeatedly while I was trying to talk to my cousin on the phone. For my 26th birthday, my very talented husband learned this song on the piano and serenaded me as part of my birthday gift. Seems like a lifetime ago. He was in graduate school, we lived in married student housing and we had a six-month-old son. I remember the exact layout of the room, where I was standing, everything.
Alarm #2: In the Still of the Night by Boyz 2 Men. I was sitting in the very quiet waiting room at the orthodontist's office when it started to play and I was digging quickly to silence it.
The story: We traveled to Florida with two friends in 2005 [sans kids]. We went to Disney World et al and spent several days at Cocoa Beach near Cape Canaveral. Out of nowhere, the two husbands started serenading the two wives on the beach. They sang In the Still of the Night and had practiced and planned for some time. This kind of thing is not totally out of the ordinary for these two friends. Usually their performances would be more in the genre of the Muppet Theme Song. We were entertained, touched, and maybe a bit embarrassed...
After the alarms, he started blowing up my phone by sending Youtube music videos every half hour on the half hour for 15 hours. The kids were cracking up as the day went on. I was pretty much walking around the house with my phone blaring songs. It put smiles on their faces too.
We went to lunch at a new deli cafe--friendly staff, creative decor, but, we did wait for ONE HOUR for our sandwiches. I enjoyed mine and my french onion soup was quite tasty. My husband did not share the sentiment for his sandwich and actually had trouble swallowing it toward the end. He may be the least picky eater on the planet, so it was quite a statement. I was prepared to like this new cafe, but I'll not return. One hour for a sandwich...sorry.
We enjoyed our time chatting and laughing about life while marveling at the time it was taking to make a sandwich. We reminisced about other "food fails" like the Thai chicken wrap filled with pureed chicken more consistent in texture with cat food than chicken. Sometimes it's all about the food texture that is the deal breaker. Hence my husband's near inability to finish his meal.
Fifteen years. Wow. I remember the day we started dating so very clearly. The booth at Swenson's, the split pea soup, and mint chocolate shake (mine and his, not together). And I still have the print out of the first e-mail he sent me at my work the next day. He'll be embarrassed, but I have to include part of it. I carried it around in the pocket of my coat for months after we started dating and got engaged.
STEF!
Hey,
wassup? I woke up, and had some stuff I wanted to get out, so I typed
this up at home. I have to get used to some of this--you're my
GIRLFRIEND. We're dating. Do you want to go out sometime? Do you want to
go on a date? We're together. Yeah, you're my girlfriend.
AHHH!
Yeah,
I've thought about this for a long time. But, I feel like I shouldn't
even be writing out this stuff, cuz you might find out that I really
like you, and that would be a bad thing. I like you a lot. You're pretty
stinkin' awesome. No, really awesome. Really....
(etc. etc., ending with...)
SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!
bubye,
sh~
The other night my husband and I were joking around and D had not gone to bed yet. I looked at D and said,
"Can you tell we like each other? Not just like each other, but we're friends. We like being together."
A shy smile from my eldest, "Yeah, I can."
5,000 days. Last Sunday marked 5,000 days of marriage to one fantabulous guy. Lord willing, we'll hit 10,000...and I'll be near 50. Crazy.
I often think of the many roads my life could have taken. Every choice, moment, and circumstance diverting and diverging, changing my landscape, a masterpiece in the hand of the Lord.
I think back to the line from Robert Frost's poem:
Two roads diverged in a wood...
After 5,000 days of dating, we were across the country from each other. I
was in New York City with our three kids, he had flown back home to return to work.
Rewind 5,000 days (from our dating anniversary) and I was on the brink of
major life choices. I didn't really think that he cared for me more than
a friend. I needed to live my life and make my own choices. I wasn't
going to sit around because I didn't know what God had for me, who He
had for me. I was evaluating graduate school programs and was planning
to enroll and accept a teaching position. And, larger than this, I was
planning to move to Europe. Our church was planting a church in the
Netherlands and my closest friends were going. I had dreamed such a
dream often. I felt at peace that if anyone cared enough about me, they
could come after me (how's that for romantic notions ;-)).
One conversation and a question changed my road.
It made all the difference. This man. This life.
I don't believe that the roads before me would have led down dark paths or destruction. They would have been different lives, different scenery, different mountains, and different valleys. Different is not bad, it's just different. And although I would describe myself as a hopeless romantic, I don't necessarily think I had to find the one person in the whole world who was meant for me. Now, don't start throwing things, I'm not trying to be scientific or emotionally detached. I felt God's leading as we started dating. I didn't doubt or question that this was where God brought me. And now, 5,000+ days later, I can see more clearly the difference it has made.
I appreciate my husband for so many reasons. He is easy-going, funny and light-hearted, humble, patient and listens well. He walks with integrity, I trust him implicitly. He is a great dad, active and involved, not afraid to be goofy, willing to teach, willing to grow, willing to admit when he is wrong, and kind. I could go deeper, be more specific, but this works for now.
We have had our ups and downs, peaks, ravines, and doldrums. Statistically, it is said that year seven
is rough. For us it was year nine and it was...well, it was dark, and
it was often excruciating. Now, beauty from ashes, all of it. Battle weary,
wounded, redeemed. God was and is faithful.
It is a gift to come to the end of yourself. For me to see how broken and sinful I am, to see how capable I am to destroy my own life, to know I am my own worst enemy. To see and feel God's love and grace and patience with me. I need HIM. I am dependent on my husband, but I am nothing without Jesus.
Through those dark times, I learned much.
A bit of background...I value harmony, I'm a natural peace-maker. I often bend myself to the
people around me for the sake of unity and harmony. I pick my battles and many I don't feel are worth picking. I was the "good girl" who won the "sugar and spice and everything nice" award in seventh grade...well, you get the picture. In the last couple of years, God has given me
new and bright insight into how He has made me. I'm not talking about new-age self-enlightenment, but learning about my personality, my
temperament, how my circumstances and life experiences have shaped me,
and how all of this interacts with my piece of the world. Now, I see who I am more
clearly.
This is where I've seen how personal God's choice of a husband was for me. My sweet husband has given me freedom and grace to live life. I can't really describe it except to say that my husband has allowed me to shine, to live vibrantly, to not just be "nice" (a non-descriptive invisible sort of word if there ever was one), but to counteract lies I have believed and dream big. God-sized dreams.
Freedom. Grace.
A few snapshots:
He has let me travel. I have taken many trips on my own to visit family and friends. Boston, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Tuscon, Scottsdale, Virginia Beach, New York City, the Netherlands and Luxembourg. 20+ trips, freely given whole-heartededly. He cashed in vacation days and stayed with our kids (they were in heaven), he did school with them, they adventured, I didn't worry or have to think twice. This may seem superficial, but I feel it is a part of how I'm wired. I love to see and know the worlds of those I love. I never tire of cultures, learning new places, and the beauty found in every day moments. These trips encouraged my heart, rejuvenated my soul, all were gifts to me...every minute.
He eats anything I cook. Really, anything. My love for cooking has constantly evolved over the last fourteen years. Ingredients in my fridge are like art supplies. I love to create. Some meals become tested favorites and some meals are like Jackson Pollock paintings...creations that will never be replicated, mish-mash masterpieces (drives my son crazy that I don't write down my recipes...I've tried to get better at this). Some meals are average and a few have been fails (my family LOVES to remind me of these..."remember the lemon rice and the turnip soup?"). I love food, I love cooking for people and I love enjoying food with people. Most of this stems from having the space and flexibility to create and try everything.
(Just to illustrate that he'll eat anything: He walks in from work every day, greets us all, and then scavenges
for food, often grabbing the first item he finds on the counter. There was the day he commented that the dried apricots were rancid (yeah, he was munching on orange wax from a candle). Then there was the time he mentioned the juice was good
(nectar for the hummingbird feeder). Oh, and lastly, there were the chips he dipped in the first red liquid he saw (marinara sauce). But I digress.)
More? I love to give gifts. Although we have some different views on money and the ways we spend money, we don't butt heads on this. His love language is not gifts, but he supports and encourages my heart to give and do what God puts on my heart, whether it be taking coffee to a friend or a larger scale gift. I'm so very thankful for this.
He has celebrated my friendships. If I make plans with a friend, he's cool with it...not threatened, but supportive, knowing that my encouragement level rises after sweet times with friends. Happy wife, happy wife, or something like that.
I've had freedom to decorate our home (even when he came home to a kitchen that had significantly more coffee paraphernalia and decor than when he had left for work that morning). He has shown grace with my project clutter. He's given me freedom to pursue interests and passions (I earned my black belt in karate several years ago...karate lessons were given as a Christmas gift:-)). And, he patiently showers grace on those times when I disappear into a book(s) or need nothing more than to calm my racing brain with a movie. I use the term "stress-paralyzed" a lot.
Freedom and grace. I'll say them again because they reverberate. With this man, my heart and soul have blossomed. I have fit and molded myself to expectations around me my whole life. It's not to say that my husband expected nothing, but because he didn't have his own personal mold for who I was to be as his wife, I could become the woman, wife, mother, daughter, everything that God made me to be. I have far to go. God has not finished me yet, but as I look at my many roads and paths traversed, I can say that my life, joined with this man has been God's grace gifting to me...
And that has made all the difference.
