Post Category → marriage

Hidden Joys

brushes.jpg

When I was in High School, my senior quote was something along the lines of, “to overlook the little things in life, is to miss life itself.” Now, umm, I’m not sure I’d exactly call that my mantra (let alone that I even agree with it!), but today was one of those days where joy was found in the little things.

As I walked into our bathroom, my beloved had set out two new toothbrushes (as she regularly does every few months.) It was to me, a subtle and simple reminder that someone special is in my life, taking care of me, making sure the little things don’t get overlooked.

And I love her for it; I am blessed.

She looks well to the ways of her household, And does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and bless her; Her husband also, and he praises her, saying: “Many daughters have done nobly, But you excel them all.”

Friday Night Stewardship

Several months ago we came to the conclusion that, like it or not, we watch noticibly more movies as a married couple than we did in our days of singleness. Naturally we’ve thought about outright banning the television from our home altogether (we already don’t have cable), but a friday evening with popcorn and a rented movie seems an ideal way for us to spend some time together. Call it lame, call it American, bottom-line is, we enjoy it.

That said, we found several frustrations with our rental patterns.

  1. The drive to the video store is about 30 minutes roundtrip
  2. It took an average of 30 minutes to find a movie–longer if we were together!
  3. Finding a movie that would satisfy our moral standards ALWAYS proved trying
  4. Despite our intentions of returning the video on time, we regularly incurred late fees
  5. We’d frequently have to stop watching a movie due to its crude or inappropriate content–not having a good way to review the movie while at video store (or worse, we’d compromise and watch it anyway, telling ourselves we would make a better decision next time.)

Well, we’ve found a better way.

First, we use an online video service called Netflix. Netflix makes sure we always have a couple of movies onhand, and sends them to us based on the list of movies we want to see–called “the queue.” Price for the service begins at $5.99 a month. we use the $14.99 plan (2-movies at a time). Each movie comes in a SASE, and when we’re done watching one, we just put back in the mail, and in a couple days, the next movie from our queue arrives. (Blockbuster has a similar service, and you might want to look into that–espcially if there’s one near you.) More, netflix’s website is super informative and easy to use.

Beyond the frustration of having to waste time at the video store, what we like best is the ability to confirm in advance that we’ll actually want to see this movie. For that we use two websites: movies.yahoo.com and kids-in-mind.com.

We start with Movies.yahoo. It’s a great resource that provides overviews, trailors, and critics reviews. (I’m a big fan of the critics reviews.) After we find a movie we think we might enjoy, we then check it through kids-in-mind. Kids-in-mind provides three ratings based on scale of 1-10: sex/nudity, violence/gore, and profanity. They also provide exhaustive lists of objectionable content which can further help you determine if this movie might be offensive. We love it, and would pay for the service if it wasn’t free.

Anyway, even though that sounds like a lot of work, it really only takes a few minutes to build a hearty queue of movies. After that, you don’t have to think about it, and because netflix doesn’t have late-fees, you’ll always have a movie on hand should tonight prove more oppurtune than friday.

I Get To

I read this a few weeks ago in Disciplines of a Godly Man, about Robertson McQuilkin, the former President at Columbia International University. It is his resignation letter, served when his wife was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. It moved me, and I want my life to emulate his.

Twenty-two years is a long time, but then again, it can be shorter than one anticipates. How do you say goodbye to friends you don’t wish to leave? The decision to come to Columbia was the most difficult I had to make. The decision to leave twenty-two years later, though painful, was one of the easiest. It was almost as if God engineered the circumstances so that I had no alternatives. Let me explain. My dear wife, Muriel, has been in failing mental health for about twelve years. So far I have been able to carry both her ever growing needs and my leadership responsibility at Columbia. But recently it has become apparent that Muriel is contented most of the time when she is with me, and almost none of the time when I am away from her. It is not just discontent, she is filled with fear, even terror that she has lost me, and always goes in search of me when I leave home. So it is clear to me that she needs me now, full time. Perhaps it will help you understand if I share with you what I shared in Chapel at the time of the announcement of my resignation.

The decision was made in a way forty-two years ago when I promised Muriel to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, till death us do part. But there is more. She has cared for me fully and sacrificially for all these years. If I care for her for the next forty years, I would not be out of her debt. Duty, however, can be grim and stoic. There is more—I love Muriel. She is a delight to me. I don’t have to care for her—I get to. It is a high honor to care for so wonderful a person.

home?

“Why don’t you sleep in?”, he whispered, and I nodded, still half asleep.

A bit of commotion–a drawer opening and closing, coffee grinding–and then all was silent. I slipped off into a few more minutes of rest.

Finally unable to lay still any longer, I opened the door to my little world–my little kitchen/dining/living room that I’ve been trying for weeks to convert into “home”. And, oh, what a pleasant experience it was (for the first time perhaps?) Hours of work yesterday afternoon yielded a homier looking apartment. A kitchen that is right-side-up. A living room that, although still awaiting a piano, is more “well-appointed”. A dining room with my prized gifts from Paula finally hanging on the wall. Not only that, but it’s all clean. Ahh.

Little things: Batiks on walls. Knives in blocks. Couch more centered. Nothing on my counter that doesn’t belong. (I can breathe again!)

Little things that made me smile this morning as I greeted my little world. And as I smiled, there was almost a sense of rest and contentment. I almost–could it possibly be?–felt at home.

Thank You, Lord. There are reasons for each day, a purpose behind everything, and I know I can trust Your goodness at all times. Still, I’m so very thankful for the moments when You are leading me beside still waters and restoring my soul. You know my needs–and You are the answer to them all. Thank You for being here this morning, and making my heart to be at rest.

the real me

I think we’ve arrived at the place of noticing. Settling in doesn’t just mean that boxes are eliminated and we know what each drawer holds; it also means that our personalities are coming out of hiding (you know, that shell-shock of change that personalities tend to hide from.) There’s a little tiny sense of day in, day out. Just a little. But enough. Enough that I’m starting to actually recognize my moods. Like I said, my Self is finally coming back.

And we’re standing back like observers, captivated by the emergence in each other: Ah, so that’s how you think!

Yesterday he said to me, “I’m sorry you’re not having a great day.”
I answered, “I’m having a fine day, actually. It’s just a quiet day. You know.”

Later, after more observation, he finally admits, “I guess I never knew you were so moody.”
I laughed. “I think I tried to tell you more than once: they say I’m melancholy because Iam!”

And it occurs to me that no, he doesn’t know what a good but “quiet” day is. And he probably doesn’t understand my being on the verge of tears every time we take a walk and I see the large expanse of green fields and fading summer. Somehow I know that God thinks it’s quite the joke, watching us watch each other, trying to figure out what in heaven’s name makes us tick.

Now we’re learning to love one another even with our polar-opposite differences. Someday–wonder of wonders!–we’ll love one another because of them. Someday we will have lived enough life together that we’ll have been touched and blessed by the very differences that now confound us…and we’ll value them more than our own strengths.

What a crazy thing marriage is. It’s far too lofty of a concept for mere man; God’s fingerprints are all over the design!