Eve gets a bad rap.
Centuries of church tradition lay a heavy portion of the blame for the first sin at the feet of the first woman.
I always thought that was a little rough. After all, where was Adam? Shirking his duty? Watching passively? Going along to get along?
A few years of marriage, however, have caused me to reevaluate my position.
I think Adam was a fairly ordinary guy (apart from the whole firstfruit-from-God's-hand thing).
A gentle man (the original gentleman!).
Content in the world God gave him.
Blissfully happy with this "woman" creature - one like him, yet so unlike.
Enjoying a happy life.
A nice guy.
Maybe something like my own husband (on a really good day. This is Eden we're talking about, after all!).
Consider the dynamics of your marriage. You know, and I know, that if there is something that we really, really want, there are ways to get it. When we set our heart on something, we could probably get our way over just about anything (whether or not it's good for us) given enough time and persistence. I don't have to tell you the tricks to wear down a husband's resolve. I don't have to list the arsenal we have at our disposal - seemingly since birth! - to influence the man next to us. It is positively frightening when you think about just how much sway we hold. Think of the line from "My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding": "The man may be the head, but the woman is the neck that turns the head!"
We can return, triumphant from the fray, with his "agreement," but as discerning women, we have to be aware of the cost of our "victory."
I've seen it. I've felt it. In my own marriage, primarily. In others' relationships, some.
Think about it. What happens when you've pushed and prodded and begged and huffed and cried and given the silent treatment?
Either he holds to his guns and keeps saying no, or he gives in and says yes.
What anguish of spirit there is in a man who desperately loves his woman and desires little more in this world than to please her, yet who cannot, in good conscience, give his wife the one thing she asks! Let's face it: most men like to please their wives. They don't go looking for ways to frustrate us or foil our goals. So when a godly man has reservations about a scheme that is a pet of his wife, it takes some serious mettle for him to hold his ground, even to the grief of his own heart. Then, we're angry, he's dejected, and we think we've both lost. If he would just give in already, we want to scream, then I would have what I want and things would be good again!
So what if he says yes?
If he really feels that to give me something would be wrong, and he says so, and I then corner him long enough that he caves, I get what I want! That was the goal, after all, wasn't it? To get the object of my desire?
A mere five and a half years of marriage have taught me to fear this outcome more than the abandonment of the object of my desire. Why? Because of what it does to my man and our relationship.
When I ask P for something that he feels he cannot, for the good of our family, our marriage, my own good, whatever, give me, he may attempt to tell me "no." If, after I pitch a fit, I get him to cave, I can see his spirit deflate.
He has set out to protect me, and he has failed.
He had desired to do the best thing, and he caved.
He was going to stand, but he's crushed.
His very manhood takes a hit, and unless I wise up quickly and repent, there will be lasting repercussions for his willingness to lead, my relationship with him, and his relationship with God.
Think of Adam: he goes from walking with God, for goodness's sake, to hiding in the bushes with shame.
We have that power, ladies!
You are a driving force in your husband/fiance/boyfriend/brother's life! You can be a source of anguish and shame for him, or you can build him up into the man you envisioned when you chose him to walk through life with you.
Don't think I'm letting Adam off the hook completely. He had some heart issues that caused him to go along with Eve's desires rather than God's. But I'm not writing to our men. I'm writing to us, ladies! Adam's short-comings don't hold the message for us today.
Oh, my sister, be very careful what you ask of your man!
And if, as you read this, you feel the stirrings of the Holy Spirit in you, listen closely.
You may be thinking of the way you've "won," but things haven't been the same between the two of you since.
You may be in the middle of an argument right now, and you can't believe he's being so stubborn about it.
You may be feeling vaguely guilty over the manipulative habits you've allowed yourself to indulge for years.
Don't wait another moment to make things right.
Give up that thing that you've elevated to a higher place than your spouse, your marriage, and the good of your family.
Repent.
Go, and be reconciled.
It's not too late.
But go now.
Don't wait til you're in a pickle like Esau: "when he desired to inherit the blessing, he was rejected, for he found no chance to repent, though he sought it with tears" (Hebrews 12:17 ESV). But rather, "now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of salvation" (2 Corinthians 6:2).
Run - run! - toward forgiveness and blessing.
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Thursday, May 30, 2019
Thursday, March 31, 2016
Settling for My Dream
Four years ago, I was a junior in college, signing up to take the GRE, starting to think about grad schools for my master's, enjoying life. Looked forward four years from then, I saw myself finishing my master's this spring, looking for jobs, ready to go out and pay off student debt, find a place of my own - maybe Boston or San Diego, travel (eventually) to Italy and Greece.
I didn't always want to be a career woman.
Once upon a time, my sole goal in life (other than being a missionary to China like Gladys Aylward or a horse rancher) was to be a wife and mother. The problem with my dream was that high school ended, and no requisite husband showed up.
I took a year off of school to become a licensed piano teacher.
Still no applicant for husband.
Then I took two years of college while dating a young man.
That didn't work, so I got a job for a year.
Still no man.
So I went off to school again. "Plan A didn't pan out," I thought, so I moved on to Plan B.
Then, life blew up (quite literally) three and a half years ago, catapulting me back to Plan A.
Now, here I am, preparing for my hugely anticipated promotion to the position of mother.
From the outside, it might look as if I've settled.
Instead of looking for promising career opportunities, I am looking for new recipes for supper.
Instead of driving to classes or a job every day, I walk a few blocks to a part-time job that doesn't pay much above minimum wage and busily page through books of prenatal and postnatal information in my down time.
Instead of writing research papers and reading peer-reviewed journal articles, I am writing grocery lists and researching the best way to contain dirty diapers until they can be washed.
Yeah, that might look like settling.
But to me, it's living my dream!
I didn't always want to be a career woman.
Once upon a time, my sole goal in life (other than being a missionary to China like Gladys Aylward or a horse rancher) was to be a wife and mother. The problem with my dream was that high school ended, and no requisite husband showed up.
I took a year off of school to become a licensed piano teacher.
Still no applicant for husband.
Then I took two years of college while dating a young man.
That didn't work, so I got a job for a year.
Still no man.
So I went off to school again. "Plan A didn't pan out," I thought, so I moved on to Plan B.
Then, life blew up (quite literally) three and a half years ago, catapulting me back to Plan A.
Now, here I am, preparing for my hugely anticipated promotion to the position of mother.
From the outside, it might look as if I've settled.
Instead of looking for promising career opportunities, I am looking for new recipes for supper.
Instead of driving to classes or a job every day, I walk a few blocks to a part-time job that doesn't pay much above minimum wage and busily page through books of prenatal and postnatal information in my down time.
Instead of writing research papers and reading peer-reviewed journal articles, I am writing grocery lists and researching the best way to contain dirty diapers until they can be washed.
Yeah, that might look like settling.
But to me, it's living my dream!
Monday, January 18, 2016
Lemonade
Before you read today's post, I would like you to watch this video.
I appreciate how Chris Rice takes an old adage, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade," and turns it into a song of appreciation for all that God gives. As another year swings around, I am reminded of our daily blessings - blessings far more abundant than I have any right to expect. Gift after gift rolls to mind with only a few minutes' contemplation.
But, beyond the goodness of a lemonade-giving God, I am not even drinking it alone. I get to share a glass with a man who also thanks God for it as he drinks deeply of our life together.
And God isn't even finished yet.
We are announcing that we are going to need another straw!
I appreciate how Chris Rice takes an old adage, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade," and turns it into a song of appreciation for all that God gives. As another year swings around, I am reminded of our daily blessings - blessings far more abundant than I have any right to expect. Gift after gift rolls to mind with only a few minutes' contemplation.
But, beyond the goodness of a lemonade-giving God, I am not even drinking it alone. I get to share a glass with a man who also thanks God for it as he drinks deeply of our life together.
And God isn't even finished yet.
We are announcing that we are going to need another straw!
Friday, June 26, 2015
By Definition
“When words lose their meanings, people lose their lives.”
In a sense, I feel I have already lived too long when I can say that I
have seen one of the oldest words in human history lose its meaning here in this
fair country.
This has not been a win-lose equation. This is no zero-sum game. We have
all lost.
Oh, my brothers and sisters, we have had the seven years of plenty. Are
you ready for the seven of famine?
When wickedness feels threatened, it will either flee or attack. With
this ruling, it is done with fleeing; but it will not be finished feeling
threatened.
Do not think that this is a clash of preferences, of cultures, of
demographics, or even of individuals. Our struggle is against powers and spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.
Do not believe that this is a new problem, that we are the first to
encounter such straits.
Our international family has lived – and yes, grown – under such
circumstances for two thousand years. America and representation and liberty
have not been the norm for this family. Think rather of North Korea, of China,
of ISIS, of Hitler, and you will come to know what to expect.
Expect pastors in prison for standing by their convictions.
Expect parents losing their children for teaching them Biblical
morality.
Expect friends to desert you, to slander and to vilify you.
Expect religious organizations – including schools and hospitals – to be
sued into nonexistence when they want to hire according to their beliefs.
Expect all this to be only the beginning.
Expect to be hated. He said we would be. After all, He was hated.
But He has overcome.
So take heart.
Live your salvation.
Have faith.
Act righteously.
Speak truth.
Welcome the Spirit who lives in you.
Abide in His Word.
Be the embodiment of love.
Walk in peace.
Pray.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
One
On Sunday, we mark one whole year of being married!
One year - already?
One year - only one?
"One" is such a measly number for everything the past year has held. While it has been a good year over all, I am glad I did not know what the year would hold going into it; my faint heart would certainly have quivered!
One year.
Oh, the joys that were hidden within its calendar.
One year.
Oh, the heartache we have walked through together.
We've grown, and I am glad, but I am ready for Year Two!
One year - already?
One year - only one?
"One" is such a measly number for everything the past year has held. While it has been a good year over all, I am glad I did not know what the year would hold going into it; my faint heart would certainly have quivered!
One year.
Oh, the joys that were hidden within its calendar.
One year.
Oh, the heartache we have walked through together.
We've grown, and I am glad, but I am ready for Year Two!
Thursday, February 20, 2014
The Full Life
I've started re-reading Angela Thomas's book, Do You Think I'm Beautiful?.
A strange confession to begin a post with, I know. But, reading through it this time, I have a different perspective now - now as a married woman.
When I was single, even when there was no significant other in the picture, I imagined the adventures and cuddles of marriage and seemed to consider it some sort of higher state of existence.
Then I tried it and found out that it starts to feel a lot like real life very quickly.
Go figure!
Please do not (purposefully or otherwise) misunderstand. I love married life. I love my husband. I would never want to go back to the single years, not even for a trip to Italy (and that's saying something).
But God seems to smile and chuckle when he sees me running around, getting things perfect, with the expectation that everything will then feel perfect.
Because, you know what? On that evening when I most emotionally need my husband to gush over my cooking, that will be the evening that he really isn't hungry.
And, you know what else? On these days when I'm looking forward to having a mini paradise of a Saturday, I'll wake up and find out that something is smack dab in the way of my little (or gigantic) hopes for the day.
And sometimes, I'm ready for my romantic husband to come rushing through the door and sweep me off my feet and out of my doldrums, and instead he comes home more discouraged than I am.
Why?
Not because he's a bad husband.
Not because he's slacking.
Not because he doesn't care anymore.
But because he wasn't made to fill my every need.
He wasn't. That's the bald truth. Oh, I know he would love to! But when I ask him to fill the voids of my heart, I am not just being needy; I am sinning against my husband. I am attempting to body-slam my husband into that space that God specifically put into me with the purpose of creating a yearning that He could then fill! And my husband doesn't fit. Go figure.
BUT -
When God is in His rightful place, then I am not dependent on my husband coming home and haling me a culinary hero.
When God gives me value, I am not reading into everything my husband says and does as an estimation of my worth as a human being.
When God is my Savior, my husband gets to just be my husband.
Now, when I am a whole person without my husband, it's not that all of a sudden I don't like to spend time with him.
Quite the opposite!
We find our sustenance in our Creator and get to enjoy each other as complete individuals, complete with quirks and hobbies and pranks and shared secrets.
When he and I are whole without the other, we save our relationship from the realm of the parasitic. We are no longer loaning crutches to our spouse as we attempt to limp along on one leg ourself; we get to experience healing and then share that healing with each other. Because we no longer NEED each other, we get to enjoy just being ourselves, together.
And that means that on those days when my husband gets a case of the blues, I can be there for him. I get my strength from beyond our marriage, which lets me pour into it and into my husband when there is a deficit.
I don't have to panic because he isn't my emotional life support.
And, you know what? This is still real life. But I am not crabbing for fulfillment from someone who is, in return, looking to me to fill them. That sort of contractual agreement ("I'll make you feel good if you make me feel good") gets empty real quick. But, as a whole human being in a marriage to another whole human being, I get to live real life more fully and with more gusto!
Or, as Mrs. Thomas puts it, "So what about the other [ones we love]? They can be fabulous when your soul is full of the love of God. But they can be devastating when you have expected they could fill up the dry and empty places" (47).
A strange confession to begin a post with, I know. But, reading through it this time, I have a different perspective now - now as a married woman.
When I was single, even when there was no significant other in the picture, I imagined the adventures and cuddles of marriage and seemed to consider it some sort of higher state of existence.
Then I tried it and found out that it starts to feel a lot like real life very quickly.
Go figure!
Please do not (purposefully or otherwise) misunderstand. I love married life. I love my husband. I would never want to go back to the single years, not even for a trip to Italy (and that's saying something).
But God seems to smile and chuckle when he sees me running around, getting things perfect, with the expectation that everything will then feel perfect.
Because, you know what? On that evening when I most emotionally need my husband to gush over my cooking, that will be the evening that he really isn't hungry.
And, you know what else? On these days when I'm looking forward to having a mini paradise of a Saturday, I'll wake up and find out that something is smack dab in the way of my little (or gigantic) hopes for the day.
And sometimes, I'm ready for my romantic husband to come rushing through the door and sweep me off my feet and out of my doldrums, and instead he comes home more discouraged than I am.
Why?
Not because he's a bad husband.
Not because he's slacking.
Not because he doesn't care anymore.
But because he wasn't made to fill my every need.
He wasn't. That's the bald truth. Oh, I know he would love to! But when I ask him to fill the voids of my heart, I am not just being needy; I am sinning against my husband. I am attempting to body-slam my husband into that space that God specifically put into me with the purpose of creating a yearning that He could then fill! And my husband doesn't fit. Go figure.
BUT -
When God is in His rightful place, then I am not dependent on my husband coming home and haling me a culinary hero.
When God gives me value, I am not reading into everything my husband says and does as an estimation of my worth as a human being.
When God is my Savior, my husband gets to just be my husband.
Now, when I am a whole person without my husband, it's not that all of a sudden I don't like to spend time with him.
Quite the opposite!
We find our sustenance in our Creator and get to enjoy each other as complete individuals, complete with quirks and hobbies and pranks and shared secrets.
When he and I are whole without the other, we save our relationship from the realm of the parasitic. We are no longer loaning crutches to our spouse as we attempt to limp along on one leg ourself; we get to experience healing and then share that healing with each other. Because we no longer NEED each other, we get to enjoy just being ourselves, together.
And that means that on those days when my husband gets a case of the blues, I can be there for him. I get my strength from beyond our marriage, which lets me pour into it and into my husband when there is a deficit.
I don't have to panic because he isn't my emotional life support.
And, you know what? This is still real life. But I am not crabbing for fulfillment from someone who is, in return, looking to me to fill them. That sort of contractual agreement ("I'll make you feel good if you make me feel good") gets empty real quick. But, as a whole human being in a marriage to another whole human being, I get to live real life more fully and with more gusto!
Or, as Mrs. Thomas puts it, "So what about the other [ones we love]? They can be fabulous when your soul is full of the love of God. But they can be devastating when you have expected they could fill up the dry and empty places" (47).
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Marriage
Girls, (well, ok, guys too!) if you have any say in the matter, marry your best friend.
I highly recommend it.
I highly recommend it.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
One Month
We just passed the one month mark in our marriage. How strange to think that we will only count up - never down - again in our relationship. But it is a good sort of strange!
A few firsts to have come about in our first month:
Something God has been impressing upon me lately is the blessing of my own insufficiency. During college, I could keep my chin above the water, and people generally believed that I was doing so with ease. I sometimes floundered and panicked, but overall I found the ability to pull myself up by my proverbial bootstraps and stay on the successful side of the grading process. I could make myself look good and get the credit for it, too. But this homemaker thing is different.
A couple weeks ago, I felt overwhelmed by all the new responsibilities. I would get up in the mornings and go at it and not feel like I had really gotten anywhere by the time I laid down at night. In homemaking, there is no deadline when you don't have to think about that project anymore. There is no final test when you can leave that topic behind forever. There is no last day in the semester and the promise of a final grade that pulls you through like a light at the end of the tunnel. Instead, dishes are constantly needing washing, the floor seems to grow dirt by itself, dirty laundry regenerates, and don't you know that nothing cleans itself! The clean socks have been in that basket in my living room for days and they still haven't figured out how to find their match!
Yet, this time of finding myself fundamentally lacking is also a blessing.
If I have everything in hand, where is room for God to work?
If I am successful at all I do, what has God done for me?
If I am wrapped up in my work and busy acing this wife/homemaker thing, how has God moved in my life?
When I can't do it and can't keep up and can't find the strength, I get to see God.
He works when I can't anymore.
He acts on my behalf when am unable to do it myself.
He moves and displays His strength when my strength is gone.
You know, I cannot figure out why I run myself ragged so often trying to prove myself. It is more fun to get to see God in all His grace and power, after all.
Is my stubbornness/determination coming between me and my experience of God's majesty?
Does God care about housework?
I think so.
And I am trying to learn to fall to my knees more quickly rather than flailing to keep my feet under me. After all, which is more important to me: the power of Christ or my stupid pride?
Is the key to success in the Christian life admitting to being an utter failure? (Hmm, that echoes the beatitudes.)
I'll gladly wave my white flag if it means that He gets the control and the glory in my life.
Although, I'm fresh out of white flags. Maybe one of these socks will do.
A few firsts to have come about in our first month:
- my first chance to completely organize a home (the kitchen was especially fun . . . the rest is still in progress). A bit overwhelming at times, but worth it in the end.
- my first prolonged experience at menu planning. My cooking has generally met with success, but it has also included . . .
- my first major misjudgment on cooking time. The chicken didn't thaw as quickly as I thought it would, which meant it didn't cook as quickly as I thought it would, which meant that our main course consisted of squash and bread and apple crisp, with baked chicken for dessert.
- my first school loan payments. Yippee.
- our first budget (which didn't crash and burn as badly as we thought it would, yet I learned how quickly unexpected expenses like to raise their ugly heads!).
- our first time inviting people to our home!
Something God has been impressing upon me lately is the blessing of my own insufficiency. During college, I could keep my chin above the water, and people generally believed that I was doing so with ease. I sometimes floundered and panicked, but overall I found the ability to pull myself up by my proverbial bootstraps and stay on the successful side of the grading process. I could make myself look good and get the credit for it, too. But this homemaker thing is different.
A couple weeks ago, I felt overwhelmed by all the new responsibilities. I would get up in the mornings and go at it and not feel like I had really gotten anywhere by the time I laid down at night. In homemaking, there is no deadline when you don't have to think about that project anymore. There is no final test when you can leave that topic behind forever. There is no last day in the semester and the promise of a final grade that pulls you through like a light at the end of the tunnel. Instead, dishes are constantly needing washing, the floor seems to grow dirt by itself, dirty laundry regenerates, and don't you know that nothing cleans itself! The clean socks have been in that basket in my living room for days and they still haven't figured out how to find their match!
Yet, this time of finding myself fundamentally lacking is also a blessing.
If I have everything in hand, where is room for God to work?
If I am successful at all I do, what has God done for me?
If I am wrapped up in my work and busy acing this wife/homemaker thing, how has God moved in my life?
When I can't do it and can't keep up and can't find the strength, I get to see God.
He works when I can't anymore.
He acts on my behalf when am unable to do it myself.
He moves and displays His strength when my strength is gone.
You know, I cannot figure out why I run myself ragged so often trying to prove myself. It is more fun to get to see God in all His grace and power, after all.
Is my stubbornness/determination coming between me and my experience of God's majesty?
Does God care about housework?
I think so.
And I am trying to learn to fall to my knees more quickly rather than flailing to keep my feet under me. After all, which is more important to me: the power of Christ or my stupid pride?
Is the key to success in the Christian life admitting to being an utter failure? (Hmm, that echoes the beatitudes.)
I'll gladly wave my white flag if it means that He gets the control and the glory in my life.
Although, I'm fresh out of white flags. Maybe one of these socks will do.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
A Day in the Life of a New Wife
As a couple approaches matrimony, people delight in telling them how humbling marriage is. I heard it often enough that I could nod sagely every time I heard it, with a conspiratorial smile because I was "in the know" about how my selfishness and sinfulness was about to be revealed in a whole new way after I said "I do."
But marriage is humbling in other ways. No one bothered to mention them.
Take last Thursday for instance.
I needed inspiration for supper preparation and so had asked my darling hubby what would tickle his palate. His response was "Meatloaf!"
Excellent, I mused. I can use Mom's recipe - I know that one is tasty - and it will feel homey for me.
"What would you like on the side?" his excellent wife pressed further.
"Something cold," he replied with a smile.
Something cold? I thought. What is a "cold" side? I am used to hot potato dishes, baked beans, steamed vegetables, etc., etc., adorning the sides of our dinner plates. I am prepared for the struggle to time them all exactly so they are finished at the same time and able to be served up hot together. WHY would someone want a nice hot dish served cold???
So, I asked him what he meant.
"How about creamy pea salad?"
First of all, I don't eat pea salad.
Second of all, my mother doesn't make pea salad.
Third of all, I don't know how to make pea salad.
So I smile and send him off to work and set about finding a recipe from the all-wise Bing for creamy pea salad.
I found a recipe - one with ingredients that I mostly already had and that sounded agreeable - and set out to make it.
First, I hopped in his truck to do a little grocery shopping in order to fill in the gaps in my pantry. I couldn't find the lever to make the seat slide forward, so I just sat forward in the seat, leaned against the seat belt, pointed my toe, and managed to work the gas and break pedals somewhat comfortably . . . at least without being a menace to traffic.
I rolled into the little local grocery and set about making my purchases for my home-cooked meal for my hubby. As I strolled leisurely down the aisles, I saw the bread rack.
I make my own bread, was the snobbish thought which likes to echo through my head.
You are almost out of bread, was the impish thought in return.
Look, there's even some bakery bread. That can't be as bad as the factory stuff. You don't have the time or fresh flour for your own right now, and making bread with regular flour is a sad concession in itself.
Yes, I could rationalize it, so I sheepishly tucked some store-bought, bakery-made bread into my cart and tried to look nonchalant.
I got back home and put away my groceries feeling very much like a real homemaker. The bread went into the freezer and the rest of the groceries found homes in my cupboards.
Next task: creamy pea salad.
Required: a hard-boiled egg.
Hard-boiled egg? A hard-boiled egg? I don't eat hard-boiled eggs. I don't make hard-boiled eggs. How am I supposed to hard-boil an egg?
Back to Bing I went, feeling less and less competent as a cook than I had in years.
Eureka! Bing pulled through, and I made a few extra eggs to keep in the fridge, just in case the hubby likes to eat them. Good, back on track to being competent in the kitchen.
The salad slid together, and I even had to admit it was good. The meatloaf roasted, and it tasted like home.
I admitted to the new husband that his new wife had bought bread, which he happily forgave, and I glowingly enjoyed his praises over my culinary efforts.
So, it turned out well (better than well, actually!); but the next time you start waxing eloquent about marriage's humbling qualities, stop and make sure the couple you're talking to knows that it isn't just humbling as it pertains to sin and redemption.
Oh, no.
Once you start realizing that there are real, reasonable people out there that eat the food you always snub in the potluck line, you just might be serving up a cold side of humble pie.
But marriage is humbling in other ways. No one bothered to mention them.
Take last Thursday for instance.
I needed inspiration for supper preparation and so had asked my darling hubby what would tickle his palate. His response was "Meatloaf!"
Excellent, I mused. I can use Mom's recipe - I know that one is tasty - and it will feel homey for me.
"What would you like on the side?" his excellent wife pressed further.
"Something cold," he replied with a smile.
Something cold? I thought. What is a "cold" side? I am used to hot potato dishes, baked beans, steamed vegetables, etc., etc., adorning the sides of our dinner plates. I am prepared for the struggle to time them all exactly so they are finished at the same time and able to be served up hot together. WHY would someone want a nice hot dish served cold???
So, I asked him what he meant.
"How about creamy pea salad?"
First of all, I don't eat pea salad.
Second of all, my mother doesn't make pea salad.
Third of all, I don't know how to make pea salad.
So I smile and send him off to work and set about finding a recipe from the all-wise Bing for creamy pea salad.
I found a recipe - one with ingredients that I mostly already had and that sounded agreeable - and set out to make it.
First, I hopped in his truck to do a little grocery shopping in order to fill in the gaps in my pantry. I couldn't find the lever to make the seat slide forward, so I just sat forward in the seat, leaned against the seat belt, pointed my toe, and managed to work the gas and break pedals somewhat comfortably . . . at least without being a menace to traffic.
I rolled into the little local grocery and set about making my purchases for my home-cooked meal for my hubby. As I strolled leisurely down the aisles, I saw the bread rack.
I make my own bread, was the snobbish thought which likes to echo through my head.
You are almost out of bread, was the impish thought in return.
Look, there's even some bakery bread. That can't be as bad as the factory stuff. You don't have the time or fresh flour for your own right now, and making bread with regular flour is a sad concession in itself.
Yes, I could rationalize it, so I sheepishly tucked some store-bought, bakery-made bread into my cart and tried to look nonchalant.
I got back home and put away my groceries feeling very much like a real homemaker. The bread went into the freezer and the rest of the groceries found homes in my cupboards.
Next task: creamy pea salad.
Required: a hard-boiled egg.
Hard-boiled egg? A hard-boiled egg? I don't eat hard-boiled eggs. I don't make hard-boiled eggs. How am I supposed to hard-boil an egg?
Back to Bing I went, feeling less and less competent as a cook than I had in years.
Eureka! Bing pulled through, and I made a few extra eggs to keep in the fridge, just in case the hubby likes to eat them. Good, back on track to being competent in the kitchen.
The salad slid together, and I even had to admit it was good. The meatloaf roasted, and it tasted like home.
I admitted to the new husband that his new wife had bought bread, which he happily forgave, and I glowingly enjoyed his praises over my culinary efforts.
So, it turned out well (better than well, actually!); but the next time you start waxing eloquent about marriage's humbling qualities, stop and make sure the couple you're talking to knows that it isn't just humbling as it pertains to sin and redemption.
Oh, no.
Once you start realizing that there are real, reasonable people out there that eat the food you always snub in the potluck line, you just might be serving up a cold side of humble pie.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
New Wife, New Life
Maybe I should have a warning label: "Caution. New Wife."
My brain is going crazy with everything it needs to do: finish clean-up, finish moving in, finish laundry from the wedding trip, go through pictures, write thank-you's, stay up to date on outside life as it moves past, decide which church commitments to enter and which to wait til later . . . dishes, laundry, cleaning, friends, cooking, groceries . . .
Oh, and care for the husband. That one I like. A lot.
The funniest things make me feel like a "real" wife. Yesterday, it was filling the ice cube tray. Stupid, I know. But for some reason, that simple act said, "You are no longer defined as daughter, relative, sister, friend. Your new identity - and your main one - is wife."
And I've only had one laundry snafu so far!
The really strange part is the feeling of vulnerability. My heart is walking around outside my body in the form of a 6'5", twenty-five-year-old man.
When people slight him, it hurts.
Physically.
I can feel it.
When he is attacked, I would rather they come after me, because it hurts less.
This is the infant stage of marriage. I am that wide-eyed baby, awash in wonder at the simplest aspects of married life. Every sensation - every sight, sound, and color of marriage - compounds its intensity for my unaccustomed mind.
I know some of this (or a lot of it) will fade into a hum-drum background as this new reality becomes my new normal. But I don't want all of it to become flat and tedious. I want to retain the wonder of some of it.
It makes me think of Tae Kwon Do. Our instructor always warned us, "Getting your black belt is not the finish line; that is when the real work begins."
I guess I've begun the real work of my life, perhaps the realest work in life.
Right now, it's still fun and interesting. I know that will change.
But right now, watch out world. There's a new wife down the road!
My brain is going crazy with everything it needs to do: finish clean-up, finish moving in, finish laundry from the wedding trip, go through pictures, write thank-you's, stay up to date on outside life as it moves past, decide which church commitments to enter and which to wait til later . . . dishes, laundry, cleaning, friends, cooking, groceries . . .
Oh, and care for the husband. That one I like. A lot.
The funniest things make me feel like a "real" wife. Yesterday, it was filling the ice cube tray. Stupid, I know. But for some reason, that simple act said, "You are no longer defined as daughter, relative, sister, friend. Your new identity - and your main one - is wife."
And I've only had one laundry snafu so far!
The really strange part is the feeling of vulnerability. My heart is walking around outside my body in the form of a 6'5", twenty-five-year-old man.
When people slight him, it hurts.
Physically.
I can feel it.
When he is attacked, I would rather they come after me, because it hurts less.
This is the infant stage of marriage. I am that wide-eyed baby, awash in wonder at the simplest aspects of married life. Every sensation - every sight, sound, and color of marriage - compounds its intensity for my unaccustomed mind.
I know some of this (or a lot of it) will fade into a hum-drum background as this new reality becomes my new normal. But I don't want all of it to become flat and tedious. I want to retain the wonder of some of it.
It makes me think of Tae Kwon Do. Our instructor always warned us, "Getting your black belt is not the finish line; that is when the real work begins."
I guess I've begun the real work of my life, perhaps the realest work in life.
Right now, it's still fun and interesting. I know that will change.
But right now, watch out world. There's a new wife down the road!
Friday, September 6, 2013
Already/Not Yet
As my wedding day approaches, I've been trying hard not to be the obnoxious bride. You know the type. All they can talk about is their wedding. The only person who holds any interest is their fiance. They are constantly posting countdown pix on Facebook.
Ok, so maybe I am doing that last one.
Anyway, it's always been a bit of a mystery as to what drives those "almost-brides". As I find myself right in the midst of that state, I'm confused as to how to explain it.
After all, little girls dream of meeting their Prince Charming, of their wedding day, and of their family to follow. But nobody thinks about that stage when you've found Prince Charming, the wedding is in the works, but you're not there yet.
Which brings to mind that phrase from my Biblical Theology class, "already/not yet"; and things seemed to fall into place in my mind.
Think of marriage within its Biblical context: Christ and the church. Marriage - Christian or not - reflects the union of mankind to God within a reconciled relationship. Our marriage ceremony and celebration is to be a foretaste of the marriage supper of the Lamb, the ultimate celebration as God's people finally enjoy unfettered, unmasked life before the presence of the LORD.
So, if that's the case for the wedding ceremony and for the oneness of the following relationship, maybe (my thought process goes) there is something similarly significant hiding within the folds of this great analogy and my current relational status that could assist in my elucidation.
Let's see.
Wedding = the final coming of Christ.
Engagement = ?
Engagement is the time I get to plan for the wedding, to prepare myself and my possessions for the transition to his. I steam my dress, ready the flowers, set up the chapel . . . why? So things are in preparation for him and that day. My belongings are scattered haphazardly between his home and my parents' as I get ready for a change in location, some of them preceding me, some to accompany me later.
Isn't this a reflection (or is it a dim glimpse of future things?) of this time in the Church's history?
We're not completely "pre-bridegroom" in that we have met Him. We know who He is. We have accepted His offer gratefully and are engaged to enjoy Him forever. That's why we call ourselves Christians.
So, while we have the understanding that He has spoken for us, we are still working to prepare ourselves and the world around us for the coming of that joyful day. We do good things, things creating beauty and reconciliation, not because they bring about the day of our spiritual marriage supper but because they ready us for it. We seek to cloth ourselves in holy garments of pleasing works in order that He might delight in us that much more. We actively move our treasures to heaven in preparation for the day of His coming. That tension of being in God's plan and in God's world and yet needing to wait for that last reckoning which will cement our position forever rings so familiarly in the heart of this almost-bride.
Almost. Not yet.
Already/not yet.
I love it when God just makes everything make sense.
Ok, so maybe I am doing that last one.
Anyway, it's always been a bit of a mystery as to what drives those "almost-brides". As I find myself right in the midst of that state, I'm confused as to how to explain it.
After all, little girls dream of meeting their Prince Charming, of their wedding day, and of their family to follow. But nobody thinks about that stage when you've found Prince Charming, the wedding is in the works, but you're not there yet.
Which brings to mind that phrase from my Biblical Theology class, "already/not yet"; and things seemed to fall into place in my mind.
Think of marriage within its Biblical context: Christ and the church. Marriage - Christian or not - reflects the union of mankind to God within a reconciled relationship. Our marriage ceremony and celebration is to be a foretaste of the marriage supper of the Lamb, the ultimate celebration as God's people finally enjoy unfettered, unmasked life before the presence of the LORD.
So, if that's the case for the wedding ceremony and for the oneness of the following relationship, maybe (my thought process goes) there is something similarly significant hiding within the folds of this great analogy and my current relational status that could assist in my elucidation.
Let's see.
Wedding = the final coming of Christ.
Engagement = ?
Engagement is the time I get to plan for the wedding, to prepare myself and my possessions for the transition to his. I steam my dress, ready the flowers, set up the chapel . . . why? So things are in preparation for him and that day. My belongings are scattered haphazardly between his home and my parents' as I get ready for a change in location, some of them preceding me, some to accompany me later.
Isn't this a reflection (or is it a dim glimpse of future things?) of this time in the Church's history?
We're not completely "pre-bridegroom" in that we have met Him. We know who He is. We have accepted His offer gratefully and are engaged to enjoy Him forever. That's why we call ourselves Christians.
So, while we have the understanding that He has spoken for us, we are still working to prepare ourselves and the world around us for the coming of that joyful day. We do good things, things creating beauty and reconciliation, not because they bring about the day of our spiritual marriage supper but because they ready us for it. We seek to cloth ourselves in holy garments of pleasing works in order that He might delight in us that much more. We actively move our treasures to heaven in preparation for the day of His coming. That tension of being in God's plan and in God's world and yet needing to wait for that last reckoning which will cement our position forever rings so familiarly in the heart of this almost-bride.
Almost. Not yet.
Already/not yet.
I love it when God just makes everything make sense.
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