January 14, 2016, 43 years since I married the husband. What have I learned in all this time?
There are always new things to discover in a relationship, new ways to look at old things.
It is better to work on familiar problems with a person you know and trust, than to start over from zero with someone you don’t know.
The husband and I are both persons before God first, then we are a couple.
Praying for my husband gives me a whole new reason to be interested in his growth.
Praying with my husband, before God, is the safest way to be vulnerable.
Letting the culture tell me what to expect from marriage is a big mistake. Every couple I’ve known is unique.
If I have to have things done my way, just do them and be glad.
If I want help I must be willing to let him help in his way and be glad.
We were not brought together because of the things we have in common but because ofourcomplementary differences.
Bad feelings change over time.
Good feelings change over time.
Being in trouble together brings us closer, thankfully.
Nothing makes it easier to forgive than needing to be forgiven, but don’t keep score.
It is okay to take care of myself and avoid the martyr complex. I am more fun when I’m having fun.
Asking kindly for things works really well.
I say I have learned these things, but actually, I’m still working on many of them and seeing progress. God has given me marriage and family as a school. There are “treasures” of learning as a result of keeping covenant over time – I am humbled and blessed to be in a safe and loving relationship that allows me to learn and grow spiritually. Thank you, Dennis, for being a faithful man who has never held me back, never “lorded” it over me, never intentionally been unkind. I would marry you all over again.
And by “through family” I mean through the experience of having children and to some extent by being a child. I can hardly begin to name or number the “aha!” moments when something going on between me and my children has caused me to stop and wonder if I am being taught a lesson. I have so come to believe that the family was intended to be God’s school of life, teaching us how he wanted us to view him in his role as father, teaching us how to grow strong, smart, productive and fulfilled as children.
So lately, I am alongside a few family members who are struggling with feeling significant, cared about and noticed. They are on my mind daily, sometimes hourly and sometimes for every minute of the hour. I want them to know I love them. I’m not a person who routinely stalks others or obsessively calls or texts (well, maybe a little too free with the texting…) but I do get desperate at times – wanting them to know how I value them for just being themselves. I love them. I want a word better than love to describe how I feel.
For these reasons, something in my reading today just leaped off the page for me. Here it is: “Love always wants to be known.” Have you felt the truth of this? It’s also true that I want to be loved but this is talking about the giving side of the equation, not the receiving. I somehow feel that if I could communicate love to someone, it would help them. They would not view their circumstances in the same way. They would not feel alone. They would have their “I AM LOVED” armor on and it would protect them.
And then I get it, suddenly, a richer, wider view of God. This is what he wants me to know, really know.
He loves me. That’s where my experience of him is supposed to start.
Okay, there is Jesus giving up a previous position, going through the human thing and dying for my sin. That’s big, but honestly, I sometimes have trouble relating to it. I sometimes miss the “why” behind it all.
He loves me and wants me to know it.
In his book “The Divine Conspiracy” Dallas Willard quotes another writer, Julian Norwich, “…for God wishes to be seen, and he wishes to be sought, and he wishes to be expected, and he wishes to be trusted.” In my frustrating, doubting times, I’ve wondered how I could become convinced of this. More often, I’ve wondered how I could convince others of this. I think I know how it’s happening with me. Again, Dallas Willard explains it in a way I totally understand.
“Persons rarely become present where they are not heartily wanted. Certainly that is true for you and me. We prefer to be wanted, warmly wanted, before we reveal our souls — or even come to a party. The ability to see and the practice of seeing God and God’s world comes through a process of seeking and growing in intimacy with him.”
I have to want God, want to be loved by him and to know him. And maybe that is the question for many. Who is God that I should want to know him? Is that your question?
Today, walking around in the yard, I met a jet black cat with one long white tooth visible on one side of his closed mouth. I had seen him other times and to this point he had always made himself scarce when he saw me noticing him. Today I stretched out my hand and spoke softly and he immediately turned and approached me.
Years ago, as I remember it, our neighbor who was doing yard work, came to us to report finding a batch of feral kittens. He knew there were die-hard animal loving children in our household and figured we would help solve his problem. He was right, of course. We raised this batch and my daughters named them after famous people. One that became a favorite of Julie, my oldest, was Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. He was Hammy, for short, and continues to live with her today. His unique characteristics are that he is small and compact for a male cat, has a sociable nature in a cat-like way, and is mostly black with a few crazy white marks.
In shape, size and nature today’s kitty was a match for Hammy and I wondered what genes they might share and if they had both started life in this same neighborhood. The tooth was a little unnerving but other than that this little guy was fun to pet. I think we have a bond going and I am calling him Snaggletooth.
The theme continued later this morning as Mom and I were conversing about our family relationships and how they also do replays. My dad often told stories of his early years at home and the influence his dad had on him. Even as he married and went out on his own, his dad was always involved in some way, giving feedback and support. Interestingly, my dad also has a very similar relationship with one of his sons. And taking it one step further, that son has a very close, remarkable similar relationship with his only son. And by now, it is almost beyond surprising, that this third generation son is very much the same with his fourth generation son. The sons may not have always agreed with the fathers (how rare, right?) or the fathers with the sons but there developed a high degree of compassion and appreciation in each case. After a few generations of repetition these things start to jump out and be noticed.
Further on in our talk Mom’s early childhood came up. She had a younger brother who was born last in the family and spent a lot of time with her. They were often together as children and she would pass the time making up stories to tell him. Their mother died when they were still young adults which added another layer of closeness to their brother – sister relationship. As she talked about it, I noticed how much it sounded like the way I feel about my youngest brother. Another comforting familial replay…
I’m not sure what all of this means, except that awareness of family influence and nurture might cause us to think more carefully about our parent – child interactions. Seeing patterns over such a long time period might give new meaning and strength to biblical references about blessings or cursings that last to the third and fourth generation, or longer. Just saying, it is interesting and food for thought.
That’s roughly how long it has been since my father died. November 16th, today, would have been the end of his 87th year.
There are many things I have enjoyed doing, and I plan or hope to do them again. And there are people I love and enjoy that I plan on seeing again. It’s possible I may not do those things, or see those people, but since I don’t know that, I don’t even think down that road. Death however, is different. As Mom put it, “you know he’s not coming back”. You know your experience of that person on earth is over. Final. Done. You know.
That sadness of missing someone is so much like wave action. It’s suddenly there with a force that catches me off guard. Since I wasn’t living close enough to see Dad on an every day basis, it’s not as bad for me. In fact, my days are very much like they were when he was alive. It’s when I look at the pictures of last Thanksgiving and other visits home that it’s very real to me. He’s right there, washing the dishes, watching the Packer game, sleeping in his recliner. This will be the first year without him and I know it will be a bit difficult.
But what have the last six months done for me?
I realize what a planner Dad was. He saved and set aside what was needed for Mom to continue without making drastic changes in her manner of living. It was a gift, and now we know what it is like to receive that blessing.
I realize that I’m not just missing the person Dad was the day before he died. I miss the entirety of his life and all that I remember about him.
I recognize the parts of him, the habits, the attitudes that I’m probably going to perpetuate in my own behavior and I have an oddly protective stance toward those parts.
I resolve to be mindful of my relationships and the time spent on them. I am so thankful for the extra visits home I was able to make the last couple of years. They were so worth it.
Lastly, I realize how much 60+ years of marriage can affect someone, and how much my Mom is missing Dad. I want to make sure that she knows others are remembering and missing him too. I want her not to feel alone.
I haven’t posted much lately. Everything I write sounds strange and awkward to me. I’ve decided it’s a stage and it will probably pass, so I’m not worried. But I couldn’t let November 16th pass without acknowledging Dad’s birthday. I might also add that any sorrow I have is purely earthly, not eternal.
There are various kinds of promises people make to one another in moments of devotion or need that are significant to their relationships. Some are of their own making, others I believe to have been modeled by God and meant to be carried on. One of those is the pact that parents make with their children – probably more like a covenant since it is more of a unilateral promise. I believe that God extended to me an unconditional love guaranteeing his care, his forgiveness when needed, his support, membership in a spiritual family that I can’t quite comprehend, and all the other benefits he is able to provide. He knew I would have trouble feeling the depth of his commitment to me, so he came up with an idea to help me experience his side of the covenant. He gave me a family.
When you children came along I began to love you immediately. I watched you grow and studied your natures and found you fascinating. I loved being with you. There were hard times and disappointments but none of that lessened my desire to work toward your highest potential and greatest good. I saw what God was trying to show me through our relationship. The trouble was, I was not God. My performance falls so short of his, and my understanding is never going to be complete in this life. But he also enables me to have his help. His help often comes from a spiritual, unseen world that many have trouble believing in and accepting. But I believe it and do not need confirmation from those who haven’t experienced that other world.
I promise as much as is humanly possible to love you, my children, without end. Nothing depends on your ability to return love perfectly because I know you are human too. I will try to listen to you, understand your messages, not be quick to conclude or brittle in my responses to you. Whatever you are going through, I want to be a safe place for you to express it, to examine it, and to process without it becoming “all about me”. God will help me do this.
Others will love and support you, but none of them will be quite like me because I am your mother. It doesn’t mean I will always care for you as when you were little and needed so much direction and teaching. It will be more like a friend who is putting you as a high priority when you need physical help, financial help, supportive time, care when you are sick, and all those things we all need even as adults. I am here to go through life with you. I am held responsible for that, right behind my responsibility to God, and then to my husband. I am told in scripture that this will bring me purpose and fulfillment in life and so far that has been true. In all its stages, being your mother has been my favorite career.
I will grow in my understanding of what God is doing among us, but I’m just saying, I think I’ve got this right.
It often means rest and relaxation to others. Not to me. I can’t even rest and relax when I’m asleep. My R&R is responding to randomness.
Randomness has a couple definitions, some of which I apply to my life and some, not so much. The one I like is “random is often used neutrally to describe that which is done or occurs by chance but also suggests that one is receptive to the possibilities of the unexpected”. I often have to make decisions about going places and doing things that are not my usual routine. Truth is, I don’t know what my usual routine is anymore. Something unexpected is always happening, it seems, and those are the things to which I love to respond.
I have four younger brothers and a couple weeks ago the oldest of them called. He lives in the same state as I do, but it’s been years since we devoted much time to each other. We are more often at family gatherings with crowds of other people to divide our attention.
“How would you like to help me drive up to Wisconsin? I’m taking a truck and trailer up to get some equipment and I thought it would be a time for us to get in a good talk.” I had to agree that 30 hours of drive time would amount to a pretty good talk.
In my mind I’m tallying up the things I would need to reschedule or back out of. “Well sure, I think I could do that but let me have a day or so to work on it. I’ll let you know.”
And that’s how things get started. After telling several people what I was considering doing I had to call him back to find out why we were doing this in the middle of winter, trying to get up and back between blizzards. Also, was I actually going to be asked to drive the truck with the 30 foot trailer or was I just going along to keep him from falling asleep?
The truth is, I love family adventures more than any other kind. Should I not take any opportunity to get to know these people with whom I share genetic material? And how better to get to know them than to actually be doing something with them? Appalachian hikes, trail rides on horseback across Florida, camping across the country and picnicking at 12,000 feet in the Rockies, cruising with everyone for a 50th anniversary – all these things started with a somewhat unexpected idea, to be rejected or embraced. Thankfully, most of my family is of the “bring it on” nature.
My randomness is by no means purposeless or unplanned. Just unexpected. In fact, planning and anticipating is at least half of every adventure for me. Sometimes it takes weeks, and other times it gets pulled together in hours. There’s a lot of variety. Because of all this I have actually forgotten how to be bored, well, almost. The brother I planned on starting the trip with tomorrow morning has already called to delay our departure because of unforeseen circumstances BUT it wouldn’t surprise me at all if he showed up at the door, ready to go tomorrow morning.
There are really two reasons this lifestyle works for me. One is that I do need a lot of variety, whether at work or at play. I have very few routines and don’t do them very consistently. I love surprise!
The other reason is that I don’t claim to have control over my circumstances, so it never disappoints me when I don’t. Those circumstances are in the hands of God, whom I look to kind of like a writer and director of a big story, and the only one who has read the whole script. When I get up in the morning, I’m not always sure where my part is going to be played out but I know the director is going to direct me. After all, he’s given me a part in the story because he wants me there. What seems random to me is in no way random to him. He is the ultimate planner and takes care of all the details. I just have to respond and follow directions. There is a lot of peacefulness and freedom to have fun in that. And sometime tomorrow I will probably be having fun, somewhere on I-75, talking with my brother. Just sayin’…
The town of Hayward, Wisconsin where my family lives is about four hours from a major airport so I have become familiar with the shuttle service, Northwest Travel. This morning at 6 am, I climbed into the van with Dave, the driver, for the ride to Minneapolis. It was dark dark. Dave had just made it home at 10 pm the night before, having made the same run.
We talk from time to time about the area were driving through. Most of the drivers are retired people with a history in Hayward and we usually find we have people and places in common.
I’m grateful my mom packed cheese and crackers and apple slices which she thought would make a good snack on the plane. They are breakfast for me and are gone in the first half hour. The flavor of the smoked Gouda mixed with the sweetness of apple is so right for fall and the quiet darkness of the trip.
It was a busy time, this last ten days. The routines and tasks were different from my usual so in that sense it was a vacation, and a refreshment, not my usual work.
I got along fine with the one outfit of clothing that I wore. Mom and I made a trip to the thrift shops and at $4 a bag I was able to put together a nearly awesome northern wardrobe. I recommend the no pack method to anyone brave enough to try it.
I enjoyed spending time getting to know my neice and nephew as teenagers. I stayed with them a couple of times when they were much littler. Now they are homeschooling, driving, babysitting others and doing their own cooking and shopping. Times change. Missed my brother and his wife but so glad they were able to take a much deserved anniversary outing.
And of course the precious (can’t really think of another word for it) time with mom and dad, sharing some of their routines, talking. We laughed over lots of things, got stocked up on jigsaw puzzles for the coming thanksgiving holiday, and last night we cried over a sad movie. More memories, and hopefully we will be able to remember them, although you never can count on that.
Thankful for life, for the ability to travel, for the opportunity to share simple things. Thank you, once again.