Won One

Eleven years.  As of September 20th, David and I have been married that long.  It feels strangely unbelievable, Twilight Zone like.  Almost as if we were warped to this point immediately after college.  I don’t want to be one of those weirdly reminiscent people bawling over their old yearbooks, but where has all the time gone?

You know, 10 is supposed to be the banner year.  The decade mark.  There’s a certain significance about hitting the double digits in anniversaries; you’ve arrived at “Marriage Veteran” status.  Well, that wasn’t the case for us.  It’s no secret that our marriage has been through the ringer over the past couple of years.  And last year wasn’t an exception.  I was so excited to hit 10, like those magical numbers were the cure to all that had been ailing our relationship.  Sadly, not true.  David and I spent the weekend at a bed and breakfast, in love but lost.  The holes, the missing pieces of our marriage became even more evident while we were away.  It haunted me, the ghost of our former love and life hovering behind me all weekend.  Never was it more clear than out at a fancy restaurant, seated close to a young couple one booth over.  Their happiness was this obvious, bubbling energy, while we operated at a constant slow boil of tolerance and frustration. Coming to that stark realization just about broke my heart.

That’s why 11 needed to be epic.  With the help of counseling and lots of effort on both sides, our marriage is stronger than ever.  Seriously.  I don’t know if I would use the words “healed” or “restored” because they sound too churchy.  But I will say our marriage was fat, lazy, and out of shape and now it is doing consistent workouts and moderate spin classes.  Bob Harper would be so proud!  We definitely aren’t perfect (Well, I am closer than David ;) ), but make a point to work on things each week.  The TV doesn’t come on every night anymore.  Sometimes, we put Elijah to bed and then sit on the couch and just talk about our days.  Several times a week, we prepare or clean up meals together.  The little, simple stuff has made the biggest difference.  We are no longer living defeated from day to day.  Life *finally* is about constructive teamwork in our house again, with Jesus in the background cheering us on and preparing to dump Gatorade on our heads.

So yeah, I needed this year’s anniversary to be big.  The celebration needed to fit the change we’d worked so hard to accomplish.  It’s like when the Grinch’s heart grew 3 sizes and he lifted the sleigh over his head (Can you tell I’m a children’s librarian?).  I pretty much thought David and I deserved THAT level of anniversary this year.

The date was set, the trip was planned.  Then all these things began happening.  The dog started puking all. the. time.  The “good” car’s check engine light flipped on.  David’s co-worker’s due date loomed dangerously close to our departure date (Potentially meaning David would have to stay to fulfill her duties at work.  Pregnant women are so inconsiderate ;) ).  Being the anxious, worst-case scenario driven person I am, I was convinced the entire vacation was going down the crapper.  Satan was obviously determined to destroy our weekend away, his demons dancing on our plans.  But David being the normal, level-headed (Read: Not crazy) one, took Bronx to the vet, put air in our tires, and told me what kind of oil to buy for our car.  Um, okay.  So due entirely to David’s good sense, we left for vacation on time, without anything hindering our departure.

And I won’t lie, it was kind of amazing.  We met our extended family in the Outer Banks and shared a beach house there.  I spent my mornings on the outside deck- a cup of coffee in one hand, a book in the other- relaxing to the ocean’s rhythm.  David and Elijah took turns playing in the house’s pool and hot tub.  Every day there were long walks on the beach, punctuated by shell collecting.  The agenda was: No agenda.  It was magical.

Then the 20th rolled around and my stress started to increase.  We needed a “lift a sleigh over our heads” kind of day.  But here’s what really happened.  It was super windy at the beach, so we struggled through a walk and made a valiant effort to read with our feet in the sand.  Done with being pummeled by the grumpy beach weather, we trudged back to the house -narrowly escaping a downpour.  David and I braved the nastiness long enough for him to salivate over some new running shoes at a local shoe store and for me to get a cup of chai.  Later we enjoyed dinner with the extended family at a loud but delicious pizza joint.

He was unnaturally excited.

 Looking out the window on the drive home from the pizza place, I couldn’t help but be disappointed.  This was NOT what I had planned.  In fact, all day I had pressured David to try and capture a cute picture of us kissing on our anniversary.  At the coffee shop, on the porch, in the house.  The shots were horrendous (leading David to quip, “Maybe we are just ugly kissers!?”  You can imagine how NOT hilarious that was to me at the time).  It felt like nothing was going right; the perfect day I’d hoped for (the one we’d EARNED) had eluded our grasp.   

Then I stopped pouting for a second and actually paid attention.  Right outside my window, the storm had stopped-leaving the sky in a brilliant combination of yellows and purples and grays.  As the sun continued to set, the skies smoldered in ashy reds and vibrant oranges.  Each moment brought beautiful changes, some more striking than the last.  And Jesus whispered to me, “How could you completely capture this?  The magnificent beauty brought from struggle, from storm.  A snapshot would never do it justice.  You can only see it, live in it, and appreciate that it is true.”  Oh my heart.

I don’t want to forget that the small things can be the most important ones.  Normal life gives us space to breathe, grow, and flourish.  After undergoing a big change (like we have), it is easy to overlook the value of simple, everyday love.  A shared experience, mutual joy.  These too can compose a stunning view.  Jesus has brought us through so much, I’m comfortable to live in the little for awhile.  Because even this adds up.  As philosopher Lao Tzu said long ago, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”  And I can’t always say that our journey has been a pleasure.  But eleven years later, I am confident that every step I take with my husband leads us closer to where we need to be.  Home.