The Truest Example

Dear Isabel,

Time has never sped by as it has since you came into our lives and there are still so many lessons for you to learn from me before you go out into the world, all on your own. They are important ones, and I worry that all the years you will spend under our roof will not be time enough for you to understand just how crucial some of them are for your life.

This is one of them.

You asked your daddy just the other night, at only six years old, who you should marry. I know you wanted a name, and baby, one day you will know it. But for now here is what I want to bury deep in your heart so you keep this lesson close by as you search for him and wait for him to find you too.

Marry a man who loves God more than he loves you. Only by knowing his first love will he be able to love you when you are most unlovable. And you will be, often.

Marry a man who understands how deeply he has been forgiven. Only that understanding will allow him to forgive you big and small. And you will need it, over and over.

Marry a man who is truly humbled by his faults and keenly aware of his virtues but who is keenly aware of your faults and truly humbled by your virtues. Only then will he understand how you complement each other. And you will both need the reminder, many times over.

Marry a man who is your equal in intellect but who is not threatened by yours. Only then will he push you to think and grow and to challenge yourself and him. And you will become his best sounding board and he, yours.

Marry a man who understands your dearest passions and supports you as you pursue them. Only then will you feel encouraged to fulfill the calling God placed in your life. And you will need him to cheer you on when you are ready to give up, for you will.

Marry a man who thinks you are beautiful and who will tell it to you often. Only then will he see your beauty when your hair turns gray and your skin sags and the lines plague your eyes. And you will crave those words from him more than you can imagine now.

Marry a man who knows his True Citizenship. Only then will he see as countrymen and women all fellow humans, and work for the good of everyone regardless of race, nationality or creed. And together you will extend your love for your neighbor far beyond what you can see from your backyard.

Marry a man who does not “help” you with the chores or “babysits” the children but rather shares on the chores and spends time with his children. Only then will you be true partners in the journey, even if you stay at home and do most of the chores and spend the most time with the children. And you may.

Marry a man who thinks the role of a father is crucial in a child’s life. Only then will he work his hardest to be the daddy your children deserve. And you will never feel alone in the overwhelming task that it is parenthood.

Oh, baby, there is so much more I want to tell you about the man I dream for you that words fail me. But words are not the strongest tool in my hands and so I’ll leave you with this: keep your eyes open, baby girl.

Keep your eyes open and your ears ready.

Because nothing I can tell you will show you what a godly man looks like, acts like, sounds like, prays like, and loves like better than living in this house. 

Because you see, Isabel, I practice what I preach…

Happy birthday, Matt. You are a precious gift to me and to your children.

Learning To Love

Standing in the middle of the room I wondered what he was up to. We had been dating but a few weeks the day he turned with a mysterious flair towards the stereo and pressed the play button. The vibrant notes of jazz piano filled the room as he took me in his arms and, with a boyish smile, began to sway me to the music of a song I had never heard.

After the initial surprised at being twirled around the floor by a man I knew simply does not dance, and the giggles ensued by the flirty silliness of the moment, I began to listen to the words that floated above our heads from the smooth, seductive voice of Harry Connick Jr, his all-time favorite.

I could learn to love you.

I could get used to this.

I could learn to love you.

And the shelter of your kiss.

He never sang the words to me. He didn’t say: this song is for you. He didn’t have to. We stopped giggling and simply danced, my head to his chest, listening to the unspoken meaning behind the song choice, behind the moment in which we were caught up, enjoying the genesis of a feeling that was budding and growing with each spin.

Our song.

Lovers are dreamers and I've been walking in my sleep
When I awake I'll never take a chance that I can't keep

A thousand first times never add up to last
And I've been told a heart of gold melts away too fast.

This was more than a good song to dance to; this was a confession. He had had several very short relationships and was not much of a risk-taker when it came to them. I was the first one he pursued, the first one he took home, the first one he danced with.

He had made the choice to take a chance.

The choice to risk going after the one that made his heart stop. The choice to make of this a lasting relationship. And ultimately the choice to fall in love and to make it last a lifetime.

I could learn to love you…

He decided to decide and he decided on me. He knew love is not meant to be the butterflies and fuzzy feelings alone but also the conscious determination of the will to grow in love and to make love grow.

I could get used to this…

He didn’t say he loved me for several months after that. But I knew the day the feeling was born. We’ve spent ten years choosing to nurture it every day. There have been seasons when we have let it nearly starve and there have been season when it has been as strong as a bamboo shoot. But the choice has always been ours to make.

We choose to love each other every day, even when it’s hard to like each other. We choose to stay together when it is difficult and when we would rather run. We choose to forgive, to let go, and to make “you” more important than “me”.

We learn to love over and over again.

Several years after the dancing episode I finally asked him if he had meant to choose that song, if he had done it on purpose for me to hear what he could not yet express. Of course, he had.

Plans for Me

I'm linking this to Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. This week's prompt: A song with significance.

Three years of trying and two failed intrauterine inseminations had left us empty and cold. We knew God had placed in our hearts a desire to be parents but the plans we thought we had prayerfully laid were not bringing the success we thought we were promised.

We still trusted His ways were higher than ours. We just didn’t know what He was doing exactly and we were confused. We sought His council and decided to stop any further treatment and begin seeking the next path He had for us.

We were grieving and praying and talking and grieving and praying and talking. We were devastated over the children we would never have and, while the thought of adoption is sweet, the reality of it is daunting.  We needed to mourn the natural plans that young couples make before we could embrace God’s plans however better and more wonderful than we could imagine.

Together and separately we were beseeching God to speak, to lead, to guide. But we both felt empty and forgotten. Just as we were despairing the Lord was beginning to work His ways to turn our hearts, to answer our prayers, to direct our paths down a journey that would take us from two to four in less than two years. But we…we didn’t know that yet and we felt lost in the middle of a dark ocean.

 My introspective husband, who grieves so privately and holds me so strongly while I grieve out loud surprised me one day with a very open and tangible expression of his pain. He was preaching on the minor prophets, and this particular week his Bible reading time had landed him in Habakkuk. Specifically Habakkuk 3:17-19.

The passage speaks of a dry and barren time when trees bear no fruit and crops fail. A moment in time when the pens are empty of animals, where no life seems to bloom. An empty, forsaken, dark time. A time like the one we were experiencing. Yet, Habakkuk states, I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. Habakkuk talks of a God who is sovereign, who is strong, who makes his people climb heights like deer.

And my gentle husband, who had learned to play the guitar not many months before that, who is not someone to write much, who is not someone to express his heart-felt emotions very easily, this man picked up his guitar and, confronted with the same God of whom Habakkuk spoke so many years ago, wrote a song of praise and trust.

“When all my plans

Seem to fade into the darkness

My hopes and dreams

Washed away by stormy seas.

I can’t see His face

I can’t hear His voice

I feel like giving in

Waiting for his promised peace.

Yet I will rejoice in the Lord

I’ll sing a song of my salvation

And I know that He will be my strength

He will come and give me peace

‘Cause He still got plans for me.

He’ll help me dance again

He’ll help me climb this mountain

I’ll run just like the deer

‘Cause I know He’s still right here.”

I wish you could hear the melody. The whole of it is moving and it breaks my heart each time I hear it. But He did. He brought the peace He promised. He gave us back our joy, He helped us dance again, He had plans still…

It has been more than five years since that song was written and we have seen the plans that God had for us come to fruition. It was not even a year later that we held Isabel in our arms and just a few months after that we had Noah. But we didn’t know that then. Matt didn’t know that. But he knew that he, like Habakkuk before him, could sing of joy and hope in this God that takes the arid, dry, desolate times of our lives and puts a new song in our mouths, a hymn of praise to our God.

A Bad Hair Day

When Matt and I got married, we were full-time students and part-time workers. Like many young couples starting out we were poor as dirt and we did what we could to make ends meet and to cut corners. One of the ways Matt thought of to help us save money was to invest on a hair-cutting kit and take care of his own hair at home. He figured the cost of the kit would be made up quickly by the money he would save not going to the barbershop. 

I had some reservations about it because neither one of us had any experience cutting hair, but Matt assured me it would work out. I accepted on two conditions: 1. that my locks would be handled by a professional and 2. that I would not be forced to perform the role of beautician. It was agreed.

As I feared, however, after a couple of times of self-inflicted hair cuts I was dragged into the venture. Matt asked me to help him trim the back, the part he could not reach, and handed me the clippers.

I tried to explain very clearly that I knew nothing about hair cutting, that I had never even held a set of clippers, and that I knew - I just knew - Matt would get mad at me if I screwed up. I was assured several times that anyone (even a mechanically challenged person like me) could use these clippers, that no, nobody would be upset if I messed up, and that yes, it would all work out. What do they say about hindsight again?

Why. Tell me why did I ever believe him? Who would NOT get upset? How many people do you see leaving  a beauty shop with a clearly fudged hair cut and a smile on their face? What possessed me to believe that my gentle husband would simple smile and say: it’s ok, honey, I know you tried. Why.

"- All right, you said I should just put the clippers to your hair and go up from the bottom like thi…oh, oh…"

"- Oh, oh, what? OH, OH, WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED? WHY DID YOU SAY OH, OH?!"

"- Um…."

"- Gaby...

"- Well…...I did what you told me and now there is a hole on your head."

"- WHAAAAT???? Did you remember to use the guard???"

"- What guard?"

"- Oh, no. Oh, no. You didn’t use the guard? Why in the world did you not use the guard???"

"- I don’t know what a guard is! I told you I didn’t know anything about cutting hair. You said you would not get upset. You lied!"

"- There is a hole on my head. It’s the size of a quarter! Now I’m going to have to shave the whole back of my head!"

"- I think it looks cute…" (said with an adorable grin)

No answer…just glowering.

"- One day we will laugh about this, I'm sure" (said with an even more adorable grin)

 Still no answer…more glowering.

"- I guess now you will have to go to the barbershop…" (no adorable grin now)

That didn’t help.

It also didn’t help to remind him that he pinky-promised not to get upset, that I said I didn’t know anything about cutting hair, or that it was just hair and it would grow back. In fact, that last one made it worse. He was upset, and a little balder – (although today he has a permanent hole the size of a half-dollar on the top of his head that I didn’t cause, which I find sweetly ironic) – and until the back of his head caught up with the front, several professional haircuts later, we were not able to laugh about it all like I hoped.

We learned pretty early on that sometimes you have to spend a little money to save your marriage. That is until the day I thought it would save us money to have Matt highlight my hair at home...but that's a story for another time.

I'm linking this post for Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. Better late than never. Thank you Jennifer for the idea! Click on her button to see more Hair Disaster stories and her weekly prompts.