Have a good fight

Boy, have Manny and I been having some good fights lately! So good, I just need to encourage you, too, to have some good fights. Have some good fights if you are parents, have even more fights if you are a married couple without kids, have even more fights than that if you are an engaged couple, and for couples who who pre-engaged, y’all need to have the most fights of all.

Years before I even knew Manny, I learned that married couples take seven times as long to get through a fight as pre-married couples. The idea is that once you're legally/emotionally/physically/spiritually bound on that new level, the stakes are so much higher that fighting becomes seven times as tricky. 

Of course it’s not good to have a bad fight, where things go unresolved or people are left wounded at the end. But a good fight should help air some inner truths or frustrations hiding below the surface of your relationship so that you can figure out how to operate better together. A good fight should end with you owning a bigger piece of your partner's operating manual, more information on what their needs and/or dreams are and what you can do to help meet and or realize them. A good fight is one where you can hold onto the awareness that you are actually on the same team. I believe good fights will give you great tools and insight in how to better love and serve your partner so that while your future will not be fight free, it can be more intimate and uplifting and you can better help one another realize your best selves. So going forward in this post, know that I am referring to good fights. 

I almost made a point of picking fights with Manny while we were engaged. That made for a tough season in our relationship, with the logistical stress of wedding planning, the emotional pressure of preparing to be married, then the relational tension of fighting fairly often. While I feel no desire to ever be engaged again, and I might instead advocate simply having the courage to have the fights that come up rather than picking fights, I am grateful for those fights we had. We got several big issues clarified that served us well into our marriage. We fought about things like whether or not to budget, how to interact with each other’s families, how our cultural backgrounds were different, and how dishes should be washed. After all of that out of our way, our first year, which many people warned us would be the hardest, felt like a blissful extended honeymoon. 

The point was not to have a marriage without fighting, let me be clear. While it was a pleasant and largely fight-free first year, to this day, more than seven years in, our fights are one of the aspects of our marriage I remain most grateful for. 

So that worked out great. But no one thought to give us the advice to get as many married-couple fights in as possible before a child was in the picture. If a married fight takes seven times as long as a pre-married fight, I'm going to estimate that a parents'-fight takes about a million times as long as a childless-married-couple's fight. Ok, I don't know what the actual ratio would be, I’d be interested to find out if anyone knows of any such data.

With a child in the picture, not only have the stakes been taken up another notch, but also you have to add in the factors of exhaustion, limited windows of opportunity, and the fact that most of your time together includes a little interrupting machine who makes it their mission to be sure you never get to complete a full sentence in one breath. (maybe that’s why I overcompensate by writing impossibly long sentences) It is not so much that the fight itself takes longer, it’s that opportunities to work through a fight are so much harder to find. The frustrations simmer, boil, and then explode to the surface before you have a chance to address all your feelings or concerns in a more peaceful way.

While I am a big believer in being sensitive to the impact of what you say and how you say it in front of your child, I am also a believer in letting your child see you fight. (again, remember I’m referring to good fights here) For one thing, you don't often have the luxury of choosing when your fights will come up. And if your child sees the conflict open up, but then never sees it resolved, how will they know that things are okay between you, and how will they know a healthy way of resolving conflict themselves? So if your child is going to be present while you fight, I think you should use that as an impetus for self-control in your tone, words, and attitude towards your partner, which in general is not a bad rule when engaging in conflict. And you should use that as motivation to work towards authentic reconciliation in your child's presence. (For more complete and educated thoughts on this, see John Gottman's books on parenting/children)

Manny and I have been having some of the most productive fights of our relationship lately, and I am SO grateful for them! Maybe it is the realization of how efficient we have to be in our fighting, or the external control factor (Sofia) pushing us to be more civilized and constructive, or just the reality that we've been at this for nearly a decade now and practice makes for better fighters (certainly not perfect ones).

We've gotten to a place where we can trust that the other is in it for the hard times as much as the good, so it is safe to air out our grievances. We've had enough fights to start learning that it is ok to face the discomfort of discord, and in fact that walking through that discomfort yields a happier ending than pre-maturely cutting off the conflict. We've practiced changing our behavior based on what we learn in the fights enough that we can make an assertive request for the other to change without resorting to the sarcasm that comes from hopelessness and only makes the fights more destructive and the ability and motivation to change so much harder. 

I guess the general rule is to fight while you can. Speak your suggestions and requests when that’s what they are, before they grow into demands laden with hurt. Be humble but honest about your needs with the person you choose to trust to meet those needs. And share your playbook as you learn for yourself how you operate, because remember, you’re on the same team!

I know I'm not an enjoyable person to fight with. I know that this concept of good fights is 99% counter-intuitive. And I know that having the courage to enter into a good fight is really scary. I count myself immeasurably graced by a husband who would love me in this way. We didn't start out this way. This is a measure of our growth as people, as a couple, as a family. I just feel too grateful not to make a big statement of gratitude to him. 

I have to thank you, Manny, for the great fights we've had in the past several months that have pushed us towards a better life and a deeper love. The evolution of your approach to fighting demonstrates to me an incredible selflessness and love that I know I do not deserve. I have to thank you for each good fight that gives me more courage to enter into the next conflict with real hope for positive change. I hope I can change for the better, love you more selflessly, and help you find the satisfaction of your needs and the realization of your dreams that proves to you that all our fights and vulnerable conversations are well worth it. 

Dear Husband,

I love you and I am grateful that I get to fight with you.

Love,

your Wife.

Dear Lobsters,

I wish you all some good fights.

Love,

Zoe

Sabbath Sunday: Amen and Amen!

This Sunday, I am finally going to a church service for the first time in a month (travel/volunteer duties have gotten in the way). yay! I am also spending some time in prayer for friends, including praising God for my friend, Kathleen, whose story I'd love to share with you here.

I unfortunately don't feel like I have the most bold or impressive capacity for faith, even though Faith is my middle name, and one might think it would be a discipline I would have worked harder at. But I do marvel at it in others.

I am in a women's bible study where we're currently using some Beth Moore study materials. A couple of months ago, Beth challenged us to consider whether there was something we'd been praying for, for a long time, but gave up praying for just when God might have been ready to give us what we'd been longing for? This was in the context of Zechariah [Luke 1] wanting a son, and ultimately receiving one, John the Baptist.

I can tend to get dismissive about these types of bible study questions that get personal, and lean more towards focussing on the cerebral challenges. But my friend Kathleen took the question seriously. She shared with our group that when she first moved into town, she was praying for her husband to get a teaching job close enough to home that he wouldn't need to take a long commute. The close proximity would support their desired life style of using the car less and spending more time together as a family. She prayed and she prayed for a long time, and after much waiting, he got a teaching job and everyone rejoiced, and she stopped praying about it.

Thing is, the teaching job was not close to home, and he had to spend hours a day carting himself back and forth. But challenged by the study's question, Kathleen wondered if she's settled too quickly, if she'd given up believing that God had something better for her family if she could just have faith and patience. So she took her prayers up again. And she charged our whole group to join her. And she charged all the groups she knew that got together praying regularly. And we all prayed.

Here's the thing, we live in a really small town. There are not multiple schools for each age level, just one elementary/middle/high. Not a ton of teaching jobs to go around. Many of us had been involved in a group trying to address budget shortfalls the district was anticipating. We knew just how grim things looked. Millions of dollars behind, the only thing that seemed likely was more cuts/layoffs/over-crowded classrooms. There was a big part of me that was mostly smiling and nodding as Kathleen prayed, but I prayed alongside her. I mostly prayed, wondering how God would teach her to change her desires because it seemed so unlikely that He would fulfill them so specifically.

She knows God is not a vending machine. She knows full well that we don't just get everything we want. And still, she had faith that if she was honest enough to let God into that very intimate, private place, where her deepest desires and greatest ambitions lay, that God might deign to bless her in just the way she wanted. That's scary. That's bold. That's a big emotional, spiritual, and (as she invited us into the project) social risk. And she went for it anyways. Part of the process involved praying that God would give her enough faith to keep praying for this thing. 

And then this community group's organizing paid off and a new school budget was voted in. A school budget that involved hiring two new teachers for the district. One of those positions got swooped up right away. The one left was in the age group where Kathleen's husband had experience. Exactly one shot. And it was one shot more than most of us dreamed would have been possible. So he applied, and as I'm sure you're not surprised by now, we just found out, he got the job!

More often than not, when I pray, God doesn't give me exactly what I want. He molds me through the process. But had I given up believing that God wants to satisfy our desires, here and now?

I'm just amazed by my friend's boldness in prayer. I think it speaks so highly of how God is growing her faith and her heart. In addition to the spiritual triumph, I think this is also a beautiful story of marriage. I think one of the most important things spouses need to do is support one another's dreams. Even if your partner doesn't believe his/her dream is realizable, we need to keep faith, in both them and in God, that their best is within reach. Kathleen showed herself to be an ambitious wife, a visioning mother (chasing after a lifestyle that enabled more family time), and faithful daughter of God. And I just can't help but celebrate the amazing woman that she is. She encourages and inspires me, and I hope her story can inspire you too.

What long standing prayer do you need to revive and revisit with God right now? Can I join you in praying for that thing? Because I am learning to have a bit more faith now, and this prayer thing is so exciting to be a part of!

struggling to write

I'm married to a mathematician. I feel like that sounds as obscure as telling you I'm married to a philosopher, which is not so far off. People get all squirmy and uncomfortable when I tell them that. I start hearing confessions about how bad that individual was at calculus, how much they hated statistics, or how they just can't add. Or on the other hand, people tell me how much they loved math in school, the nice orderly security of having a definite answer amidst all the other ambiguity of life. Whatever the reaction, it's usually fairly strong, and followed by a quick change of subject. (Are you squirming right now just reading this?) 


I can only imagine what it is like to walk in Manny's shoes and have to experience that much more directly all the time. Anyways, if people don't change the subject so quickly, and they don't always, I love to talk about how amazingly creative the world of math is once you get past the basic requirements schools impose on you. I had no idea, even until years into Manny's Ph.D. program, just what it meant to be a mathematician, and to be honest, I'm probably fooling myself to believe that I get it even now. He humors me. 


What's beautiful about the fact that math is surprisingly imaginative is that it makes our unlikely pairing into a beautifully rooted connection in creativity. I was a philosophy and english major, he majored in physics and math. The only class we had together was ballroom/swing dance. But because there was this creative analysis at the root of what we each loved about our respective disciplines, even if we don't understand the details of what the other has to say, we get the core experience, and for us, that ends up being what truly matters.


The other week, we were able to resonate with each other when our hands were full with Sofia and he just wanted to sit down and concentrate on some research, and I just wanted to sit down and write, and when we were finally able to, we both felt so freed. When I told him how, on days that I don't get to write, it feels like there is a traffic jam of material in my head just blaring their horns, dying to break through, he got me. 


Maybe even if you don't write, or even if you're not a theoretical mathematician (because I know those make up a huge percentage of this blogs following, right?), but you have some form of creative expression, you get me too. Maybe you understand that once you start disciplining yourself to get into your craft, the art starts to flow much more easily and you find yourself refining your process and your results and growing in your abilities in little ways each time you get back to it. And that growth feels fantastic. And the traffic jam similarly grates at your brain and frustrates you. 


Sometimes life is crazy enough, I moved past the point of the traffic jam. The other day, I was so frazzled and sleep deprived I just could not get words out, I might have had a little baby-induced-aphasia. It was as if the road between my brain and my mouth (or fingers) simply crumbled apart. You know after you've been sitting in that traffic jam for long enough, as soon as you get a break through the cars (time to write) you let loose and drive like a maniac because you are making up for all that pent up energy and you drive your car up a median, or in my case write really weird blog posts that you have to come back to and edit furiously once you realize the mistake you've made. 


The worst stage is when I feel like I've been sitting in the traffic so long, I've just given up hope for any movement to pick up, and I've just reclined my seat and curled up behind the wheel to take a nap. On some days, by the time I get a chance to sit down, my brain is fried and it just takes so long to settle into a creatively productive space.


Anyone else connecting with me here? I'm grateful for this blog as it forces me to get some flow going, and I think that helps keep the creativity alive in dry spells. But since it seems like this struggle may transcend across talents. Maybe you identify and have some other tools for how we can navigate this traffic. How do you keep the creative juices flowing? How do you create space for your craft amidst the chaos of life? How do you satisfy those needs when your art can't find its outlet? 

Cooking with Zoe: A letter to my love

Dear Husband,


Standing with our backs facing each other, I wanted to tell you how much I missed this, cooking together. Me with stinging eyes, crying over onions, you with diligent hands, stirring the chicken. The scent of ginger and garlic, and the sound of music playing while we silently work. The brush of your arm against my arm as we swirl around each other in this culinary dance. Occasionally we turn and glance at each other, we steal a kiss. We share a taste of what we are creating together. 


We used to have this every night, this meal we prepared for each other. And I wanted to tell you how many together-things I missed doing with you since Sofia came. Lounging in bed in the morning, talking as long as we choose. Holding hands in a movie theater. Losing ourselves in the obsession of a video game until our eyes gave out or our stomachs cry too loud. Walking side by side under the stars, feeling open and free. 


But it didn't feel quite true. 


Missing things felt like declaring there was an unfilled hole, a vacancy in our love. And while it was a warm comfort to return to this act of communion after so many months past, the new things we do together bring me joy too, so much joy that I'm not ready to trade back just yet. 


You're still there when I cook, but now you are in and out of the kitchen, running before or behind our not-so-toddling-toddler. You are on the floor identifying objects of her  constant pointing. You are grasping her away from her incessant attempts to touch the oven. You are still present at my back, but she is in you arms, nuzzling her head under your chin. 

My mother taught me the art of breathing in relaxation in the kitchen, and you are teaching me the art of breathing out the joy of my family in the very same place. Breath in the wafting smells of spices and herbs, laugh out the the surprise of her new word so exuberantly expressed. Breath in the steam from a boiling pot, breath out a sigh of wonder at the tenderness with which she caresses your face. 

This is a life filled with abundance. This is sweet sustenance. This is love boiling over.


The time will come again when we cook together day in and day out. And that time will be a sweet return. And for today, I am ok that we have a new flavor of love to share. What we are creating together now, this life, it sure tastes good. 

In this special season of life, my love, I love you. Happy Valentine's Day.


Love,
your wife

Eating with Zoe: The Coffee Shop Edition

or: "A love story told in coffee shop recommendations:"


I can remember standing on tippy toes, peering over the counter just enough to be able to look down into my father's coffee mug. As he poured the cream into the deep brown, the white billows would rise up and swirl. Even before I learned to like the taste of coffee, I loved the aesthetic experience. It was a simple but romantic nightly ritual that my parents shared. My own enjoyment of coffee began in eighth grade with regular visits to Dietrich's (which sadly no longer exists outside of the keurig cup distribution). But the romance of the drink did not come for some time later.


I married a man who did not drink coffee. I brought my coffee maker into our marriage, but for years had to use it alone. Until one night, we had our friends, Faith and Erick, over to our place. As I made some coffee for the rest of us, Erick remarked with great shock at how Manny, a graduate student no less, wasn't drinking any with us. Manny is the last person to let peer pressure force his behavior. But when I mentioned to Erick how drinking coffee together was, in my mind, such a romantic ideal, Manny picked up on it, and resolved to learn to love coffee for my sake.


This 180 degree switch felt romantic enough to me. I felt heard and loved. But it was a switch that kept on giving, as coffee has facilitated so many romantic experiences for us since Manny's conversion. As students studying together for hours on end in cafe's, as parents finding the liquid strength to open our eyes to yet another day that comes too early, as two people in love relishing one another's company, Manny and I have greatly enjoyed exploring all the flavors and aromas of some good cups of joe.


Our caffeinated journey has taken us to several establishments that hold fond memories for us and perhaps some fun recommendations for YOU!


In Santa Barbara, there are a handful of cool coffee shops, but our hang out was always the Coffee Cat. Being pre-coffee-conversion for Manny, he always ordered the Calico Cat - a peanut buttery chocolately glass of goodness that they rarely ever actually had the ingredients for on hand.


In and around Berkeley, the coffee shop you frequent is an important part of your public identity. This was too much pressure for us, and also parking is a pain near campus, so we generally stayed off the beaten paths and just found our own humble little hang outs. 33 Revolutions, a record store/concert venue/cafe/coffee shop was one of our first favorites - great open atmosphere for studying - but it has since gone out of business, I'm sad to say.


Other shops where we spent hours upon hours reading, studying, and writing theses included:

• Tomate Cafe Great breakfast and lunch too!
• Buttercream Doesn't the name just make you want to go? The owner is beautifully invested in the local community of Albany, and you can feel it in the vide of the place. Delightful spot for a tea time treat!
• Blue Bottle Coffee Wanna feel cool in the Bay Area? Drink Blue Bottle Coffee. We enjoyed cups of Blue Bottle at the Ferry Building Farmers Market, but our most memorable romantic moment was at the Oakland cafe - one of our first coffee shop dates unencumbered by back packs and laptops - this was a treat we regret not partaking of more! 

One characteristic about San Diego that I adored was how often you could find public spaces where older men tended to congregate on a routine basis to hang out. It made me feel like I was in Italy, visiting the piazzas. Something about all the military bases being there perhaps. Anyways, Manny and I often found these men lounging around the coffee shops we frequented and I often had trouble focussing on my work of the day because I was so intrigued by ease dropping on the men chattering about their lives, politics, cars, weather, what have you. Not necessarily all old-men-hang-outs, but a couple of our favorite coffee places in San Diego were:

• Zumbar High quality coffee - love the hummingbird roast!
• The Living Room Yummy pastries, cozy atmosphere, ocean view [though just a sliver] - this was probably my favorite hang out spot in SD and the site of this precious moment. 

Now we're in Maine and trying to discover our new favorite coffee shops. So far we've thoroughly enjoyed the following spots and look forward to warming up at each of them throughout the long winters!

• Bohemian Coffee
• Little Dog
• Frontier Cafe 

What rituals do you find romantic, Lobsters? What are your favorite coffee hang outs? How many of you are concerned that I might have a caffeine addiction? 

All the Single Ladies (and Gentlemen)

A while back, Emily responded to a reader request and wrote this fun, funny post about her thoughts on why guys today don't commit. Her light hearted post seemed to generate some really intriguing thoughts and dialogue, and it's kept me mulling over some of the propositions and problems posed. More recently, I've read some other articles about marriage and the current state of men's and women's attitudes around marital commitment. One was posted on a friends Facebook page, asking if any women had any thoughts on it. I just had too many thoughts for a Facebook comment, so I'm writing a post about it. I am hoping to prod him into writing a parallel post, so you can get two sides of a response to this single woman - a married woman, and a single man's thoughts on what she has to say.


Here is the article from The Atlantic he was asking about: All The Single Ladies by Kate Bolick. It is rather long, but provides some fascinating history and psychology and personal anecdotes around trends in fidelity and thoughts on the supply and demand of marriageable men or women. And here are a few of my reactions to it:


1) The One. I think one nugget of truth she puts out there is that the idea: "one human being can fulfill all your emotional/social/physical/financial desires/hopes/dreams" is false and also dangerous. But while she uses this as support for a choice to remain single, I think it is also something that married people would do well to come to grips with in order to enhance the health of their marriages. I can be a better wife to Manny when I stay connected to my other family members [and his too - I love his family!], and I work on my friendships [even when they're long distance, hence this blog]. When I isolate myself (and I do do that sometimes), our marriage suffers from bearing too much weight of my breadth of needs. 


2) Where have all the Husbands gone? Kate Bolick illustrates how the imbalance of successful women compared to the number of marriageable male prospects leads men and women to be more promiscuous, because the men have plenty of good options and little need to commit to one if the next best thing might be just around the corner. [as an aside, I also recently watched a documentary about how China is having an inverse problem of too many men. Check out "China's Lost Girls," to see the negative unintended consequences they are struggling with] Maybe this is the key answer to the reader's original question that Emily was addressing. But having attended a college where the ratio of women to men was 3 to 1, I got to see a microcosm of this imbalance at work, and I think there is a segment of the male population getting overlooked in this observation. At Westmont, each guy had, in theory, three women to himself. Some of the guys used this as an opportunity to date around, like Bolick observes. But other guys had higher esteem for women or commitment to a fidelity ethic. These other guys might be a significant minority of the population, but I believe they are out there. I saw these guys suffer from intense pressure of three women lining outside their door demanding they pick one of them and put them out of their single-misery (somewhat metaphorically, only on occasion did this literally happen ;)  ). I think a lot of these guys didn't like being pushed into rejecting two girls in order to assuage one, and so they just didn't ask anyone out. It was also a small Christian community, so when the guy picked that one out of three, there was tons of pressure for him to make it work out well. Lots of eyes evaluating whether he made the right choice, if he was honorable in their relationship, when was he going to give her a ring?? It is no wonder there were tons of articles in the campus newspaper addressing the question of why no one dated outside of the dorm initiated "NCTO's" [Non-committal take outs, where a whole dorm floor of men or women set each other up on dates and went out as a big group under the strict understanding that it was non-committal, no one was allowed to expect exclusive relationships after that night, or you know, diamond rings or anything]. This pressure concept really is just a theory in my own head. I'd be very interested to hear from guys whether there is any truth to it. 


3) Redefine worth. Bolick wants us to open our minds to a broader concept of acceptable life styles. For example, she speaks against "Singlism" (marginalizing people in our society who are single as if they are lesser or nothing but crazy-cat-ladies), and broadening our ideas of acceptability in mates. Part of the problem she is pointing out is that our population is still fairly balanced in quantity of men to women, but the quality of women is up (higher rates of bachelors/graduate degrees, increasing salaries, less job loss during the Great Recession, ability to successfully manage single-parenting, etc.) and out pacing men. It seems as though there was a period of time (shorter than we might think, apparently) where men told women we could not earn money outside the home for whatever reasons. And women rose up and responded, "anything you can do, I can do better." Now we are proving our point, but often looking down on men who can't seem to keep up with us anymore. This has long been a sore point for me. I think it may be a minority of women who hold this superiority and scorn, but for those that do, how are we doing anything better than the men who oppressed us with sexism and patriarchy? Healthy feminism does something more to "lift as we rise" as many minority groups advocate. Yes. We can do well in school, yes we can be amazing CEO's, yes we can juggle seemingly insurmountable tasks. There are a lot of superwomen out there! But how can we use that new found power and voice to establish a new measuring stick of success? A new rubric for respect? Instead of climbing to the top and looking around to find no acceptable mates, could we instead re-determine the top as a list of valuable character traits other than net worth, degree attainment, social status. Every woman in my maternal line for about five generations back has married a man that was the first in his family to graduate from college. We committed to character and potential rather than attainment. And it is surprising how well that keeps working out for us. With great power comes great responsibility.


4) No Woman is an Island. Bolick seems to conclude with a proposition that single women start living in closer proximity - almost dorm-like - so that they can maintain their single independence, but have that extra human being(s) around to care for you when independence doesn't cover all of the bases. Interesting idea, and perhaps our society is arriving at a point where this is really possible. But from my personal observations, we're not quite there yet. Too many of my single female friends enjoy this perpetual girls-night-out life style only until the other girls find husbands, gradually leaving the group to dwindle. Is there something about that formal marriage commitment that ensures that other person will be around to support you? In theory - plenty of spouses don't quite live up to this expectation and obviously there is the possibility of divorce. So I guess married or not, we can't totally count on others to be there for us no matter what. Humans flake. 


I have a crazy proposition in response. What if we abolished this unspoken law that married and single people can not be friends?!? I guess this is a bit duplicatory of point one - but in a more tangible form. I have yet to make and single female friends since moving to Maine, and I'm realizing there is a whole in my social world. I miss my single friends from previous chapters of my life. They keep my world view in a more balanced perspective, they can be available to me in ways that my other married/mom friends can not. Just the other night, I was thinking longingly of the days when we regularly enjoyed game nights with friends, because now all our friends are similarly strapped to their homes after bed time and can not come over and play. If I had more unencumbered friends, this part of my life I used to enjoy wouldn't have to die for this season of Sofia's baby-hood. That's a very small and selfish piece. More importantly, this could mean that is my single friend needs a ride to and from the hospital, I could give it to her. Or when my husband is out of town, maybe she could come over and help me out with my baby. I truly believe we can be more well rounded when we diversify the life stages our friends are in, so that we don't get so lost in the tunnel vision of what matters in our own day to day. So let's call an end to this arbitrary divide and make the effort to overcome life style barriers to stay friends with people in different seasons of life. 


5) Marriage is hard. I have been realizing that the sort of discontent I perceive women of the previous generations suffering from having no other option than staying home seems to be present with plenty of women stuck in careers they are discontent with. Stuck is stuck. Women who are frustrated in being single are often experiencing some of the very same core emotions as women who are married (happily or otherwise). Lonely is lonely. Life is hard. Relationships are hard. Commitment is hard. Etc. But we can't let hard keep us from good. Becoming a parent is the hardest, most painful thing I've ever done, but I would never trade Sofia in for anything. This is the beauty of pain. So for those of you avoiding marriage because it's hard, it might fail, the sacrifice for something better that might be waiting in the future (key word = might) doesn't seem worth it, please consider that the hardest things are also often the sweetest things. Marriage really is not something you should choose just for social conformity, it really has to be something you are willing to devote a lot of personal sacrifice to without expecting a perfect, blissful, fairy-tale ending. I love marriage immensely, but my position is to avoid it unless you find someone you are really willing to lay down your life for, and vice versa, in more ways than you can anticipate. But I also propose that we get less stingy with our own lives, giving them up is the best way to live. I think Laura A. Munson's article in the New York Times captures this beautifully (and is much shorter than the first article, so you should totally check it out): 

Those Aren't Fighting Words, Dear by Laura A. Munson 


I think the core opportunity illuminated here is for us to identify the barriers that are keeping us from loving each other more fully and figure out how to get over them. But I would really love to hear your thoughts and reactions. I am looking at this from one specific angle and would appreciate others who could help round out my perspective. 

Four Years Ago Today...

Four years ago today, Jeff proposed! Spoiler alert: I said yes. Almost four years ago me wants to tell you how he proposed because it was crazy romantic and creative:

My boss, Drake, called me on my cell phone sounding extremely sheepish. Spouting apologies for his foolishness, he explained that he had left his lava lamp on in his office, and he feared that it would burn the place down. He claimed to be out of town, or else he'd do it himself. I told him that I was on my way to a movie in Orange, so it was right on the way and absolutely no problem (even though I was thinking that was silly - if the place was going to burn down, it would have burned down already).
My roommate Hilary drove, so when we reached Vanguard, I told her just to wait in the car and I would be right back. I literally ran from the car to the office door, which I discovered was open. I thought that was strange, but I proceeded to Drake's office anyway. I unlocked his door and saw that the lava lamp had already been turned off (ya know, probably on Friday. By Drake. Before he left work. Because he was lying). I then noticed that the light was on by my desk, so I decided to investigate. Red Gerbera daisies (my favorite!) covered my desk, and with them was a note that said "This is where it all began" and my heart started beating really fast and I thought "Ooo! It's happening now!!!"

I followed the trail of what I later learned was just under 60 red Gerbera daisies (they're the happiest flower, in my opinion) with 31 (my favorite number) notes attached with reasons why Jeff wants to marry me (from sentimental "because you believe in me and I in you" or "because you love God more than you love me" to funny "because I want to see how fat you get when we have triplets" or "because my lease is up in June"), and they led me to Needham, Vanguard's beautiful little chapel in the middle of campus. As I opened the doors, Bethany Dillon's "For My Love" started playing. I walked down an aisle lined with hundreds of twinkly lights, holding my bouquet, staring at Jeff wearing a tux and eight cardboard cutouts (the people that will be in our wedding), trying not to think about how surreal the moment was (and also trying not to trip).



I just noticed that our wedding party is not wearing pants.

On stage in the chapel, Jeff got down on one knee and gave a beautiful speech and asked me to be his wife. I said yes, and we kissed as the first rockin' strains of "I Believe in a Thing Called Love" echoed through the chapel.

This was staged. Jeff's camera died during the actual moment.

 

When we got to my apartment that night, Jeff and our friend Kaytie had set up a surprise engagement party - there was a big group of family and close friends there to celebrate with us! Amazing. This guy is amazing. If you haven't met him yet, please come visit me and marvel at my catch.

The end.

Quantity Matters

Hey Lobsters, did you by any chance also have a mom who told you it was the quality of your friends that mattered, not the quantity? Well I’m here to tell you, quantity does indeed matter.

Once upon a time I studied abroad in Sri Lanka for about six weeks. Among plenty of the other cultural contrasts I stumbled upon was their view of romance. It highlighted for me that we Americans believe that One person will fulfill all of our wildest dreams and meet all of our plethora of needs. After six years of marriage to the man I believe to be the universe’s greatest husband, I’m here to tell you, that’s a load of malarkey.

As human beings, we have a wide range of needs. My husband loves and provides for me in an incredible number of ways, and I also have needs that I need my mother to meet, and my sister, and my pastor, my teachers, my daughter, my friends, my father, my grandfather, my grandmother, my community group members, my neighbors, my car insurance guy . . . you get the point. All these other people meet needs in my life and in my heart that aren’t holes Manny is designed to fill – either because of who he is or because of the role he plays in my life. So I am the kind of girl who needed a husband [plenty of you may not even have that particular need], but I also need a whole community of support.

This is true with friends too. When Emily and I first became roommates, she really was my one and only friend. It did not take long at all for me to see that there was no way that could make for a sustainable friendship. She had a job, a boyfriend, other friends, and I couldn’t just tag along like a sick puppy everywhere she went (don’t think I didn’t try). So there’s point one, no single friend deserves the burden of supplying all your friendship needs and wants.   

Fortunately, Emily had several friends. She introduced me to her best friend, Nate (now one of my best friends), who provided me with lots of opportunities to hang out with his other friends (this is how I met my husband by the way!) and so on until I had a nice slew of friends. And it seems that anywhere I go with Emily, I’m meeting new people that I instantly love and admire. Her sister Jenna, her husband Jeff, all her bridesmaids, her former roommate Mikkelle, her videographer friend Tabitha, . . . you get the point. I was always taught that in order to have friends, you had to be a good friend, but apparently, having friends in and of itself helps too! [point two]

Point the last: no one friend CAN meet all your needs for friendship. I need Emily to make me laugh, inspire me to write, give it to me straight, and entertain me with her fantastic voice and ukulele skills. But I need other friends with whom I can cry in movies [Emily has maybe done this – what – twice in her life? I do it in nearly every movie], enjoy a good cup of tea [Emily’s caffeine intake comes exclusively from Diet Pepsi], talk on the phone [Emily will do this out of love – but I know she doesn’t enjoy it]. And I need my friends that I can see in person on a regular basis. To say that Emily’s inability to meet any of these needs is any sort of failure on her part as a friend is entirely erroneous. I need her to be who she is, and I need others to be who they are.

As I piece together and appropriate quantity of quality friendships, I find I am surrounded by a beautiful community – comforting and challenging me in all sorts of ways. It really feeds my ego to be needed in a big way by someone. But I really believe we are designed for community – not just pairing off. When I love this way, I’m more likely to get more of my needs met – and when others love me this way, I’m less likely to feel the pressure to deliver what I can not authentically and sustainably offer.

Are you expecting too much from one friend? What friendships could you forge or strengthen to get more of your own needs met and start putting into practice some of your own untapped gifts and talents to meet needs in others?

Anything Once: Urban Camping Or “The night I became a gamer”

Lobsters, what are your deal breakers when it comes to finding a potential mate? Girls that are taller than you? Back hair? Having a last name for a first name? Here are another blogger's thoughts on that topic.

For me, it was “gamers,” as in guys who play video games. I was never allowed to play any growing up and cultivated a very strong disrespect for anyone who indulged in this pastime. It seemed a sign of laziness, violence, ADHD, etc. This cartoon might capture my sentiments:

cartoon borrowed from here 

As my husband and I returned from our perfect honeymoon, after our perfect wedding, I settled into my perfect marriage. I anticipated some challenges in having to live with a boy for the first time – strange smells, junk food, rowdier music. What I got instead was a video game console being set up and used for hours every day. Somehow, I had accidentally married a gamer.

It was a great shock to my system. For months, I tried to understand the draw of these games he was into, and I just couldn’t get into it. All the while, I heard a great deal of talk about the Nintendo Wii console coming out. After months of anticipation, the day came near. I learned that he was SO excited, but he didn't expect he would be able to get his hands on one for months after it came out. I figured the longer the delay, the better.

The night before the release, we made an evening run to Target, cause it's my favorite store so I go there whenever I can find an excuse. While I was walking the isles towards the item I needed, I saw the look in his eyes as we passed by the Wii display. Intrigue, excitement, longing, sadness. I couldn’t keep him from it. I just couldn’t. I turned to him and with resoluteness announced my plan:

“We’re paying for this item, we’re walking out of this store, and you’re getting in that line [that had already been forming for a couple of hours]. I am going to go home to get some chairs, blankets, food, and entertainment, and I’m coming back. You’re going to wait in that line, and I’m gonna be right there with you.”

The shock and disbelief and joy I got in reaction was worth a much greater sacrifice. I knew there was no going back, and I also knew I would do this one hundred times over. I think there has never been a greater act I have done for our marriage before or since that night.

And I did it. I camped outside of a Bay Area target, right by the freeway, all through the night until those doors opened at 8am. We hung out with the other game-boys, shared some of our snacks [most of them did not have wives bringing them food and hot chocolate]. I curled up for a snooze or two in the car, I drove the car in circles around the parking lot trying desperately to get warm [it was frickin’ freezing that night!].

And after an act of dedication like that, how could I not feel like I had been initiated into this new culture? Of course plenty of those guys were insanely nerdy, but they were also really nice and some were even pretty cool and down to earth. And if I was going to freeze my toes off for that game console, I was going to find a way to like it. Even if my devotion preceded my positive opinion, I had indeed been converted. I would even call myself a "gamer-advocate" today . . . but more on that in another post.

Anyone else camp out for anything you [or a loved one] cared a lot about? Anyone shocked that I did? When have you shown a tremendous act of devotion to a thing or person? So tremendous that it is even a bit embarrassing and it takes you about 6 years to confess that act publicly? 

Snapshot Saturday #9: Staircase

Next week, I'll say more about where these shots were taken. Stay tuned! 

In the mean time, I'll just say I enjoy these shots for the geometry and the light. I also love the little touch of humanity sprinkled in oh so subtly. 

Other than just being a Snapshot Saturday, today is also my parent's wedding anniversary. Over three decades of unyielding commitment for each other. You two deserve to be celebrated! So, it is a very small gesture, but I dedicate this Snapshot Saturday to you! I love you Mom and Dad! 

Three Years Ago Today

Three years ago today, I woke up on my sister’s plush green couch and watched Dan in Real Life while enjoying donut holes and orange juice. I went to Happy Nails with some of my favorite friends and had a manicure and pedicure. I ate at Rubio’s for lunch – chicken taquitos, chips, a churro, a big Diet Coke. Delicious.

Three years ago today, I relaxed for a few hours in the nursery of my childhood church. I had my hair done and actually liked how it turned out, and I put on the biggest, whitest dress of my life. Various vital women came and went, providing joy and comfort with their brief visits.

Three years ago today, I stood in the back of the church feeling a little bit nervous, clutching Daddy’s arm. Friends gathered around me and prayed for my future. My boss snuck in late and whispered “hello” and I whispered “you’re fired” and we chuckled and I felt less nervous. My best guy friend told me “this is your moment” and smiled at me before opening the doors to the church.

Photo: Christine Lee Smith
www.clsphotography.com

Three years ago today, I walked down the aisle with a smile pasted to my face while the man I love smiled back and cried. A lot. We remembered Jesus and His example of perfect love with an animal cracker and juice communion. We promised forever, and we meant it, and we immediately told the world about our promise on Facebook.

Three years ago today, we threw the best party I’ve ever attended. We had In-n-Out, a photo booth, a jazz band, colorful homemade desserts, and dancing, dancing, dancing. We dressed up a homely courtyard, filling it with strings of light and people we love. And it was all perfect because I was with my husband, who I love even more today than I did three years ago.

Photo: Christine Lee Smith
www.clsphotography.com

Happy anniversary, Jeffrey Michael!

Snapshot Saturday #3: the shot that started it all

Sophomore year of college. First photography class. Assignment: portraits. I asked my buddy, Nate, if I could use him as a subject. Not only did I get an enthusiastic "sure," but also, he brought along a whole group of friends. I told them to gather up some props and come to the Armington lawn. One by one they sat awkwardly for me while I danced around the polite sphere of personal space. Jon used someone's guitar as a prop, but held it backwards - not knowing any better, making for some comical shots. Then you sat down.

You grabbed the same guitar. Not only did you know how to hold it, you knew how to play. You began to mess around with some little jazzy improv-y chord progressions. I lost site of the sphere of personal space all together. You drew me in and I was entranced. I don't think I even realized what I was doing. I've always wondered what you were thinking as my lens got right up in your face.

Later that evening, I spent a few hours alone in the dark room. That's when it really hit me. As the shot of you developed and I saw that image coming into view in that red light, a powerful, visceral rush of excitement/butterflies/awe/joy rushed over me. Bam! It was like I got hit by a truck that was my-intense-crush-on-you. Full on twitter-pated.

You looked so mysterious. I wanted to discover what that mystery was all about. I needed any excuse to see you again as soon as possible. I rushed down the hill to your dorm, only to find your room darkened with multiple girls snuggled up on your couch. But you weren't on that couch. You were on the bunk above them, from which you jumped down faster than I could finish knocking on your door. I was almost too overwhelmed and nervous to know what to say. "Uh, I finished developing the photos. It took a few tries to get it quite right for the assignment. I thought your mom might want some pictures of you or something." And she knew right away. On your next visit home, when you handed her those prints, she knew better than even I did how completely smitten I was with you. She could see it in the shot. Smart lady.

Here we are. Six years ago today, we got married.

I still love this shot.

I love that I got to capture and preserve the exact moment that my heart fell in love with you.

I love that I'm still enthralled with discovering your mystery.

I love that the power with which those feelings hit me as your image developed was just the smallest glimpse of the way I feel about you today, as if our love is ever-developing and coming more fully into view.

I love you, Manny.

Happy Anniversary my dear husband.