I'm trying to wrap my mind around the fact that tomorrow marks my 10 year wedding anniversary. 10 Years. For those of you who have been married much longer or even just lived many more years than I have, this may seem pretty small. But to us, this is a big deal. Not that we didn't expect to make it this far (hardly) or even that the time has flown by (though in some ways it has) but just because this day is almost here. As you may have already noticed, I'm quite the sentimentalist. I'm very excited and proud to be celebrating such a big anniversary.
As I try to process the idea of 10 years, I can't help but think back to our wedding day. Of course, it feels like a lifetime ago, both because 10 years is almost 1/3 of my life and because so much has happened in that time. We're such different people. Our life is so different. We've experienced so much loss (3 grandparents, 1 parent, 1 friend as well as a major job loss and 2 bouts of post-partum depression) and so much joy (2 beautiful daughters, 6 1/2 years in full-time ministry, trips, friends, extended family). The depth and richness of our life together is more than I knew to expect or imagine at the age of 23.
Sometimes being married feels heavy. It feels adult and it feels big. But most of the time, it is so natural. It's so right and it's so good. We've been through the toughest 3 1/2 years of our lives, with these last 18 months the most fierce. But there is permanence here. It's not our life that gives us permanence. We know that continues to change. It's not our relationship because I'm proud to say that continues to grow, not by accident but with faithful intention on both our parts. It's not even us as individuals because we are both always evolving, which I find thrilling and sexy and beautiful. Goodness knows it's not our family life! The only constant in raising young children is that every day is a transition. So what is that permanence, that thing that tells me I'm safe, I'm loved, I'm okay and always will be?
It's the reality that we haven't just survived the last 10 years. Surely there are days we only survived. But every year we've had we've LIVED not endured. And that is how I know we'll be together as long as we're both here. We'll be different. We'll get better. We'll be more honest, more our true selves, more brave, more gracious, more different and more the same. We'll be less as well. Less fearful, less selfish, less inhibited, less competitive. Maybe we'll be neither more anything or less anything at all. Maybe we'll just be better at accepting ourselves and each other. That would be more than enough for me.
I love the idea of a lifetime of pursuit. Pursuit of each other, of ourselves, of God, of life to the fullest - that we'll never be done or over. There is no arriving , of that I am sure. The more I've accepted that, the more relieved I feel. Married life isn't supposed to be a certain way or look like anything someone else constructs. Marriage is the joining of 2 entire people - all the personality, baggage, family, friends, exes, history, dreams, faith, talent, experience, hopes and quirks of both people. And you build a life on those things - the BOTH and the AND rather than the EITHER/OR. People talk a lot about compromise in marriage. I don't really connect with that. I think of it more in terms of accommodation. We carve out a place for each other. We make space for our other. It's not about finding someone to complete you - you are already complete. But someone who complements you? Yes, that is beautiful, this ying and yang.
Tim has an incredible capacity for kindness towards me. He has seen me at my worst, my most ashamed and spoken words of truth and mercy to me. He has the ability to encourage me while tempering my wildness, not in a limiting way, but in a stabilizing way. When I found him, I was a globe trotter who needed someone who could let me go, but who would also be there when I got home. He keeps those home fires warm for me, while I fly up into the clouds and dream. He makes me want to come home. He is home to me. He's not threatened by me but he doesn't minimize me either. He's incredibly intelligent. He respects himself, which is probably the sexiest quality on the planet, because he is not a pushover. He's not critical of me and thinks I'm a lot nicer than I really am. He believes in me. He loves our children. He's honest with me. He takes care of himself so he can engage in our family life. He works full-time in a job where he kicks ass doing something really important for a low wage (this to me, is the height of nobility). He has magical powers, I can attest, because I do not get sick of him, EVER. Honestly, it's really, really rare. I can't get enough of this guy, which I find baffling.
I could go on and on, but I fear I'm on the verge of gushing. I will say this, 10 years is more than a lot of people are given, because let's face it, shit really does happen. People die. People leave. People lose their love for each other - whether they throw it on the ground and snuff it out or it slips through their fingers. I have no idea why that's not me, why the shit that has happened to us has somehow deepened our love rather than taken it. I know I should be grateful. And I am. Of course I am. I may be young, but I'm old enough to have seen this shit play out in the lives of people I love deeply and from whom I am no different. All I know is that I am not nearly done with this guy. I'm still hungry for this person, this life, this marriage. And that perhaps, is the biggest cause for celebration of all.
As I try to process the idea of 10 years, I can't help but think back to our wedding day. Of course, it feels like a lifetime ago, both because 10 years is almost 1/3 of my life and because so much has happened in that time. We're such different people. Our life is so different. We've experienced so much loss (3 grandparents, 1 parent, 1 friend as well as a major job loss and 2 bouts of post-partum depression) and so much joy (2 beautiful daughters, 6 1/2 years in full-time ministry, trips, friends, extended family). The depth and richness of our life together is more than I knew to expect or imagine at the age of 23.
It's the reality that we haven't just survived the last 10 years. Surely there are days we only survived. But every year we've had we've LIVED not endured. And that is how I know we'll be together as long as we're both here. We'll be different. We'll get better. We'll be more honest, more our true selves, more brave, more gracious, more different and more the same. We'll be less as well. Less fearful, less selfish, less inhibited, less competitive. Maybe we'll be neither more anything or less anything at all. Maybe we'll just be better at accepting ourselves and each other. That would be more than enough for me.
I love the idea of a lifetime of pursuit. Pursuit of each other, of ourselves, of God, of life to the fullest - that we'll never be done or over. There is no arriving , of that I am sure. The more I've accepted that, the more relieved I feel. Married life isn't supposed to be a certain way or look like anything someone else constructs. Marriage is the joining of 2 entire people - all the personality, baggage, family, friends, exes, history, dreams, faith, talent, experience, hopes and quirks of both people. And you build a life on those things - the BOTH and the AND rather than the EITHER/OR. People talk a lot about compromise in marriage. I don't really connect with that. I think of it more in terms of accommodation. We carve out a place for each other. We make space for our other. It's not about finding someone to complete you - you are already complete. But someone who complements you? Yes, that is beautiful, this ying and yang.
Tim has an incredible capacity for kindness towards me. He has seen me at my worst, my most ashamed and spoken words of truth and mercy to me. He has the ability to encourage me while tempering my wildness, not in a limiting way, but in a stabilizing way. When I found him, I was a globe trotter who needed someone who could let me go, but who would also be there when I got home. He keeps those home fires warm for me, while I fly up into the clouds and dream. He makes me want to come home. He is home to me. He's not threatened by me but he doesn't minimize me either. He's incredibly intelligent. He respects himself, which is probably the sexiest quality on the planet, because he is not a pushover. He's not critical of me and thinks I'm a lot nicer than I really am. He believes in me. He loves our children. He's honest with me. He takes care of himself so he can engage in our family life. He works full-time in a job where he kicks ass doing something really important for a low wage (this to me, is the height of nobility). He has magical powers, I can attest, because I do not get sick of him, EVER. Honestly, it's really, really rare. I can't get enough of this guy, which I find baffling.
I could go on and on, but I fear I'm on the verge of gushing. I will say this, 10 years is more than a lot of people are given, because let's face it, shit really does happen. People die. People leave. People lose their love for each other - whether they throw it on the ground and snuff it out or it slips through their fingers. I have no idea why that's not me, why the shit that has happened to us has somehow deepened our love rather than taken it. I know I should be grateful. And I am. Of course I am. I may be young, but I'm old enough to have seen this shit play out in the lives of people I love deeply and from whom I am no different. All I know is that I am not nearly done with this guy. I'm still hungry for this person, this life, this marriage. And that perhaps, is the biggest cause for celebration of all.