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I almost missed this day.
Our 15th wedding anniversary, April 10, 2014.
Bullheaded, brokenhearted, and enraged I fumed out the door after hastily packing my bag. Smashing my wedding picture on the corner of our bedpost leaving a million little pieces of glass for him to deal with along with our 4 sleeping children 10 & under to feed, nurture, do laundry, drive to soccer, make sure they use soap in the shower and to read to and tuck in bed each night.
I was done. Or was I undone? Used up. Withered.
Sampson, my first Toyota truck, an 89' stick shift that my Dad still has was more than a mode of transportation for my passionate, introspective 16 year old self. It was a think tank, a solace for my romantic heart allowing me long country drives with music blaring.
Dad always said, "A car is a tool to get safely from point A to point B" and "change the oil & take care of it & you'll get tired of that car long before it will tire out on you." I love my Dad. He was right about so many things I would never admit then but will now.
But for me, even now at 37 years old, my car is sacred space. Mountain drives beside creeks, through woods and wide open spaces push up the sadness I sometimes don't even know is there, nature safely absorbing my emotions, hard questions, distraught soul. I get clear about things in the car. I dance, I belch out my favorite tunes, I feel safe to scream out my anger & disappointments, and I cry....
So this dark night of the soul was rightly spent driving around in my car talking & feeling at the same time like my counselor was teaching me to do. Easy when I'm alone. Hard when real faces are staring back at me. Abba was with me, he heard. After the death of my son I learned God was big enough to handle my anger. Ever since, I bring it to him straight up.
After driving for hours in the dark, spent by tears, exhausted, I stopped to get a hotel room. "Were booked Mam and so are all the hotels within 10 miles of here, leaf season you know." The one night of my life I decide I'm walking away from my marriage happens to be the beginning of peak leaf weekend here in the blue ridge mountains. Great.
Forced to knock on a dear friends door at 3am and curl up on her couch, I found solace in a prayerful friend who loved me without asking too many questions I wasn't ready to answer. Sleep whispered to me but never came. I walked through what my life would like to start over, without him. I saw pain in each choice. I felt it like the beginning of a heart attack.
Pains do not hold a marriage together. It is threads, hundreds of tiny threads which sew people together through the years. That's what makes a marriage last- more than passion or even sex.
-Simone Signoret
Numb from the shock of what I was truly contemplating, I folded the blanket over me, slipped on my shoes, left a thank you note for my friend and tiptoed with hardwoods creaking out the front door. One step. At. A. Time. I drove home in the budding morning light haze straight faced. It was a Sunday morning. Pulling into the driveway I saw him through the window sitting at the kitchen table, light on, a book open. The hardest few steps of my life from the car to the front door. My feet like heavy bags of compost.
Choosing the road less traveled rarely is easy you know.
But I did. We did. After both of us saying those two humbling words, "I'm sorry", we choose to walk back into our life together, one day, one hour, one minute at a time.And yesterday, we celebrated 15 years of marriage. I spent hours planning for our kids to be cared for by dear friends, packing bags, organizing details while he asked for a day off work, found a snazzy hotel overlooking the mountains, bought tickets to hear some great music, wine & cheese for the hotel room. Truly, our lives are woven one decision after another. Nothing glamorous. Just messy, beautiful daily life lived with a touch of intention. "Brutaful" my friend Wendy calls it...brutal and beautiful at the same time.
Lingering over spicy Indian food last night we celebrated large and loud. We lingered over each other and our imperfect lives speaking gratitude to one another for choosing to keep loving, keep forgiving, keep learning how to do this thing called marriage and conflict and raise healthy souls, my Lord no one ever told us it would be this grueling at times. Did my romantic idealist self just miss that talk that everyone else got, or what!?!
Don't get me wrong,The Professor and I have chapter books of scrumptious memories...glorious family waterfall hikes, lingering wonderful moments in our peaceful home reading and writing together, tasting delicious food, wrestling with our kids, playing board games, reading out loud while eating popcorn, jumping wildly on the trampoline. We do have a good time together.
But, but marriage has also viscously exposed our selfish hearts...our wounds from the past....our lack of this or that...and our lack of skills or knowledge in some cases of how to truly love and serve. Yet, today as I sip a latte at a book store and glory in no time constraints or responsibilities my heart swells with deep satisfaction and thankfulness that we made it to here as well as hope that we will make it to there.
Marriage is God's greatest tool for transforming the human heart.
-Mike Mason
For the ones who have gone before us that have shown us bits and pieces of how to do it and given us courage to keep going and shared the not so great parts of our journey we are grateful...Laura & Matt Parker, Elizabeth & Fred Bahnson, Karin & Mike Abbott. Thank you for giving us courage to keep walking towards each other.
Having the intimate community of family is truly one of life's greatest gift to humans. The Professor and I appreciate the commitment of marriage in both our families. I will mention here tho the sweetness of my two sisters whom we all share anniversaries in April. Our resolve is somehow strengthened by yours. Thank you! We celebrate you, Brice & Jeff Melton- of 20 years and Ash & Tom Stahlschmidt of 9 years.
Most of all, we appreciate the role model my parents are in our lives. We realize with each passing year the impact of your choices upon us and we are truly grateful. Humbled actually. The large oak of your marriage has provided love, nurture, wisdom and hope for us. Thank you, Pat & David Jones celebrating 45 years of marriage this year.
