adrionna – Page 6

Year 2, Week 15: Who Protects My Marriage

Teaching 9th grade girls is such a blessing. Almost every day I see the strength of sisterhood when one student is having a rough day and the others gather around her. Also almost every day I am reminded of how exceptionally difficult it is to maintain a real, supportive relationship when there are so many changes happening at the same time (like, you know, figuring out who you are while also studying for three exams).

In both scenarios, I silently give thanks that I’m in a time in my life where I can enjoy the fruits of my laborious making-friends journey. After a lackluster social life (read: perceived deflation of my worth to about zero) in middle school, I remember deliberately taking my time choosing friends in high school. I would observe everybody, almost to a fault.

She just made a snarky comment to her “best friend” (Did she really just frame it as a “joke” with a quick comment of “Oh, get over it!” when her friend looked offended??). I don’t think I want to be friends with someone like that.

She just rolled her eyes when her friend sheepishly told her she doesn’t want to go out tonight because she wants to make sure she studies really well for the test tomorrow. I don’t want my friend to roll her eyes at my success.

Is she really trying to guilt her friend into hanging out with her instead of family? She seems to really want family time! Any friend who shames another for wanting to spend time with her family is not going to make it as a friend of mine.

And so on it went. I realize now that it seems I have impossibly high standards. Good. It worked for finding my husband, too.

So what does this have to do with my marriage?

Simple. If I hadn’t spent so much time deliberately choosing my friends, I wouldn’t have my greatest supports and protectors of my marriage.

Sometimes it’s not enough to just “work it out” between us when I’m in a rough patch with my husband. Sometimes we have to go to our separate corners in the boxing ring and talk it out with the coaches who were there first. My coaches are the sisters I’ve chosen. They help me talk through any doubts, questions, and concerns that inevitably arise in my marriage.

I think what I love the most is that the end game is always a realistic true-to-Ania approach leading to a potential solution. Never once do my coaches panic and say, “This is it. This is the problem that leads to divorce. Get ready for the K.O.” They may roll their eyes and wonder aloud, “What is this guy doin’!?” But they’ll just as quickly ask, “Shoot, girl, what’s going on with you? You’re not being yourself.”

It’s that question that I love most about my friends. How can we help you be yourself again? Because we love that Ania. If we find her again, we’ll be able to fix everything else.

Wow. Gold standard friends.

So when I tell my freshmen students about my own female relationships, I hope they hear that those same sisters will help protect their marriages, too. (You know, if that’s something they’re even in to).

Here’s to…
…my sister losing weeks of sleep pursuing her Ph.D. in Clinical Psych,
…my M.o.H. following her dream in a New York City grad program,
…my soul friend finishing her Masters of Theology program at Duke,
…my tall twin in a beautiful relationship with her fiance and the Yale School of Nursing,
…a trailblazing lover of the world passionately writing stories,
…the women in my life who have become truly amazing mothers,
…those who are fearlessly embracing the unknown and loving the heck out of life,
…and all those who I don’t get to talk to as often but admire just the same.

The women in my life protect my marriage. To have ignored them in pursuit of a man would have been one of my life’s biggest mistakes. Now, they save my best life – my most “Ania” life – more than they realize. Thank God for that.

Year 2, Week 14: Prayer and Play

This week was the week of miracles – big and small. And it all stemmed from our decision to first let our knees hit the ground and then permit our feet to leap the concrete.

Two weeks ago, we found out some really sad news that Cody’s beloved Nana received an unfortunate diagnosis of cancer. We heard that the doctor told her it’s very likely the cancer began in the torso and then manifested into a tumor, which was not good to hear. This news suggested that the cancer had spread to areas that would prevent the recovery we’d obviously hope for. Cody was understandably broken up by the news.

So I decided to be recklessly hopeful.

I realized the St. Therese of Lisieux novena would be beginning soon, the memory of a woman who lived by the ideal that one can do ordinary things with extraordinary love. Those she lived with didn’t take her seriously as a young woman in the convent, but Therese did her thing anyway. I guess you can say she was the original enforcer of the “kill them with kindness” rule. When she was diagnosed with tuberculosis, she promised a shower of roses. Let me share why this is significant.

The Society of the Little Flower writes, “Shortly after her death, the rain of roses began. Sometimes roses literally appeared, and sometimes just the fragrance of them. Cures of painful and fatal diseases and many other miraculous experiences were attributed to her intercession. Sometimes people found inner peace and regained an inner warmth of spirit and confidence, by appealing to St. Therese. Many miracles and actions of St. Therese do not involve roses. More often than not, marvelous things happen in people’s lives as they ask for her heavenly intercession. The miracles, healings and inner peace come from the trust one places in God, not from any manifestation of roses…. Roses are Therese’s signature. It is her way of whispering to those who need a sign that she has heard, and God is responding. Thousands of people have given witness to the way Therese responds to their petitions and prayers with grace and roses. The grace is more important than the roses.”

I absolutely agree that the grace is more important than the roses, but the fact that roses were every where during this novena convince me this isn’t a farce. We can argue all day about roses being popular flowers, but each day presented a rose in some form.

The night after I began the novena (around 10pm), I remember looking at my bare rose bush in my backyard and hearing my growing cynical voice whispering, “Well, that’s nice. It’ll blossom by the 9th day of the novena. That’ll be a great coincidence.”

After I had prayed the next morning very specifically for a miraculous Nana healing, I was shocked to open my door into my backyard to see three fully blossomed roses on my rose bush. I knew right away I was being listened to – and my faith grew with the petals. I continued to reach out to my closest soul friends and faithful family and I felt my optimism grow, almost dangerously. If this “miracle” wasn’t going to happen, at least I knew I had thrown myself into it. It’s literally the least I could do, with Nana being so far away and my husband’s long face right next to me.

I kept up the praying on the daily, and each day I saw roses in the most unexpected places. Then, on the last day of the novena, we received wonderful news that Nana’s torso CT is clear! The joy I still feel is more relieving than it is overwhelming. First, for obvious reasons that our prayers did something – they truly made a difference. Second, I desperately needed a reminder that God is real. I know we still have more praying to do, but this experience was enough to help remind me and Cody that God really is listening, regardless of what the majority of the world says. You just have to have a little faith.

That was the big miracle.
Here’s the little one.

Last Thursday, I asked Cody if he wanted to go for a walk with me; the weather is beginning to transition to its all-too-familiar blue-grey hue and I needed to feel like I could still go outside if I felt like it. And I felt like it.

After walking in silence for some time, I turned to Cody and asked if he wanted to run for a little while. He grinned and said he will always choose to run if I want to (despite the super nice dress shoes he had on), so I took off at a light jog. Before long, I realized he wasn’t beside me, or even right behind me, so I turned around to see what the hold-up was. He had disappeared, but I didn’t worry – he’s quite the joker. I half-expected him to be running parallel to me on the other side of the block, so I decided to keep up my jog anyway. I would surprise him.

All of a sudden, I heard jingling keys and pumping arms. I turned back and almost tripped because of the laugh that caught in my throat. He was leaping the concrete paths of people’s front lawns and landing on the cool grass, only to let it propel him farther on. I don’t know why I thought this was the funniest image I had seen in a while; maybe it reminded me of when I would run around my neighborhood and be hundreds of feet in front of my friends, feeling the adrenaline of being free. It didn’t matter that we weren’t really going anywhere – just that we were simply going.

This week, prayer made us a little wiser,
play made us 17 and 21 again,

and I swear it made me love him more.

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Year 2, Week 13: A Prayer for Family

I have to give my hubby credit. When I request a book recommendation, he takes the request very seriously. I have to wonder what exactly he considers when he narrows down his choices for me but, this time, he sent the first of the Immortal Descendants series, April White’s Marking Time to my Kindle. The book is awesome. It makes me think and wonder and imagine – and I love stories that can do that.

But this week isn’t meant to be a book review; instead, I want to share an excerpt that stood out to me as I reflect on my family.

“Can I ask you something, Miss Simpson?”
“I’ll answer what I can.”
“Why are the Families at war?”
Miss Simpson busied herself pouring the tea. “That’s an enormous question with an even bigger answer, I’m sure you realize.”
“Actually, I didn’t realize. I thought it might be simple.”
She smiled wryly. “The enormity comes from the fact that each Family will give a different version of the truth. All will be true, but like any painting, until all the colors are applied to the canvas, you’ll never be able to see the whole picture.”
I nodded. “Got it.”

Conflict in family is so difficult to witness, not even considering the stress and tension that can overcome you if you yourself are in the throes of it. One day, you’re delicately overturning a shiny mosaic vase in your hands, proud of all the pieces and marveling how, although so differently crafted, all the segments just fit. The next day, however, someone accidentally bumps into the shaky mantle (because what family can claim they’re unshakeable, really?) and the once-shiny mosaic is dulled. A piece or two have fallen out – the crack is no longer unmistakeable and the observer finds himself insecurely asking, “How long has that fissure been there?” “Could we have prevented this?” And, perhaps most commonly wondered is “Why me?”

The rough part of conflict is that both sides are wondering “Why me?” while pointing fingers in opposite directions. Self-righteousness, stubbornness and pride tend to rule supreme for as long as someone keeps throwing flames into the fire.

The question that my own faith forces me to focus on, however, is “Where can the healing begin?” Really. How naive and stupid, right? Life doesn’t work that way, Ania. Get with the times.

And yet.

I’ve also studied human nature enough (Thanks, psychology and literature!) to know that preventative maintenance is a must. So here’s my prayer for my own family – the ones who are alive and the ones who are to join it.

Prayer for Healing in Family
In its best moments,
family is the reflection of Your Love, Lord.
In its most trying moments,
family is the opportunity to show Your Mercy.
Have mercy on your earthly family, Lord,
and remind us that we belong to each other.
Let there be healing where there are experiences of
miscommunication,
mistrust,
and inevitable mistakes.
Give us the courage to embrace each other
instead of allowing the poison of anger
to destroy the roots of prosperity and hope.
Soften hearts that have been hardened
and let them move with compassion.
May divisions be healed and new life bloom
so that we can be examples for others of Your good and gracious Love.

We ask this through Jesus Christ, Our Lord.

Amen.

"Individually unique, together complete!" — “Individually unique, together complete!”

Year 2, Week 12: And the wall came crumbling down

The scariest part was not realizing how tall the wall was getting. The best part was realizing even the tallest walls can be knocked down.

The scariest part is realizing I didn’t even know when the wall started coming back. I say “coming back” because I know exactly when it came down the first time. You’d think it was a few months after we met, when I fell head over heels and sent my single card back to Cupid. It usually happens that way, right? You find The One, trust him with everything you own and live happily ever after. That’s the narrative we hear and believe, but it wasn’t the story I was living. No, my wall was still standing straight, tall and proud, right until a few weeks before our wedding.

I realized I had a choice to make – either continue to protect my heart like I had been doing (But what happens if he leaves!? I can’t afford to spend time picking up broken pieces! It’s better to keep the styrofoam or un-poppable bubble wrap tight around me for as long as I can) OR I can love the man with everything I have and make our marriage worth protecting.

And so with my decision to be open to whatever may come our way, my wall came tumbling down – and the results were better than I had imagined. Because I allowed myself to be completely vulnerable (which basically means you walk around with your underwear showing the whole time and trust the man not to give you a wedgie), I felt more love and more magic than if I had only let him visit me through the window that only opened between 7:30 and 7:45 every morning. If you want to visualize vulnerability a bit more romantically, it’s like giving him a shovel to the soul that is your garden where he can either sow fruit or wreak poisonous havoc. Thankfully, my guy likes apples.

In hindsight, I see the sign clearly marking the construction site for The Wall somewhere between “I’m the happiest wife ever” and “You want to go to Mexico for three months?” But, in the moment, the wall sprang up and the only way I recognized it was when I was surprised to find my old friends (disinterest and defensiveness) had returned. I found in myself…

…a lack of curiosity in things he found fascinating (why should I think it’s interesting if he’s just going to leave for Mexico?)

….muffled laughter and shy smiles (How in the world can he be so happy right now, when our relationship is about to be separated by hundreds of miles?) Yes, I know, the drama queen was alive and well; I’m not proud.

…spending way more time on things I enjoyed versus spending time at home (for distraction? So I could start getting used to spending time on my own, now that he’d be away?)

Long story short, the defense mechanisms were at high alert and ready to fire. I lost my sensitivity, my empathy and, most undesirably, my willingness to sacrifice.

This all led to an unhappy wife and a confused husband.

I reached out to an “unofficial” mentor of ours and he said very simply, “Dinner and communication. Talk at dinner. Turn off the TV and sit at the table together.” And so I threw myself into those little moments. This video helped nudge a small stone from the structure, hitting me squarely in the forehead so I would pay attention.

I would try and squeeze his hand back when it rested on my lap. I would look into his eyes when he was telling me something he found thought-provoking (apparently My Wall keeps eyes from connecting). I would stop to text him “Love you” in the middle of the day (I had stopped, I realized, to “train” for the days I wouldn’t be able to talk to him for days while he’d be away).

And, finally, I put down my own wants when he needed me this week. It was this last experience that shook the wall and struck the largest bricks down. By putting my own worries aside to help Cody (I didn’t get to relax on the couch but drove instead to retrieve him from a train station tucked deeper in the city than our nearest depot), I realized he hasn’t gone any where, and I cannot decide to stop being a receptive wife now just because I’m worried that I won’t know how to be a good wife from far away.

This last month has taught me a lot about myself and my marriage. If you’re still reading (and aren’t my husband or immediate family and friends), I commend you. There’s a lot of yucky stuff in here. But it’s all true. The crazy part is, I haven’t even shared the deepest roots of what we’re working through together. This is just the muck at the surface. Maybe our metaphorical microscope will reveal it in the future. But maybe it just doesn’t need to be. The wall is down for now, and I couldn’t be more relieved.

I love this photo because it's a capture of a Sunday that sees some papers to grade with time out buttons that magically appear after I write down some arbitrary grade that is supposed to rate the thoughts of a human being I am only beginning to know. I press the desk on my way to Cody's own work station on the floor, and nuzzle my head into his shoulder to remind him that his words are the ones I fell in love with first. — I love this photo because it’s a capture of a Sunday that sees some papers to grade with time out buttons that magically appear after I write down some arbitrary grade that is supposed to rate the thoughts of a human being I am only beginning to know. I press the desk on my way to Cody’s own work station on the floor, and nuzzle my head into his shoulder to remind him that his words are the ones I fell in love with first. Instagram @theaniassey

Year 2, Week 11: The dreaded Second Year returns

It’s official: The second year of a relationship is always the hardest.

I remember watching my friends fall hard and fast for a guy, be on cloud nine for a year, and then call asking for advice when things all-of-a-sudden started getting rocky.

I told them that this is normal (they breathed a sigh of relief), but then share my theory that whether they can make it through the second year will determine whether they make it in the long run (even if it was only 3-5 years, that’s successful according to today’s standards).

The second year is when things start to get serious and questions are asked – the honeymoon period is ending and reality becomes a – well – reality.

You start wondering if this is the One. And when things start to become difficult (as they do, in “reality”), we automatically jump to our conclusion: “Well, if he/she was really meant for me, then I wouldn’t feel like this, would I?”

This is toxic thinking and it ends relationships, over and over again. Love is not a feeling; it is a choice. And sometimes the choice is sacrifice, and that’s why love hurts. But I’m getting off topic and that’s just my opinion.

So I guess it shouldn’t have come as that big of a surprise that, when I had the theme of this week’s reflection come to mind, it threw me for a loop.

Who knew we’d have to go through another “second year” in marriage?

The excitement of the engagement, the emotional and logistical preparations for our marriage, the gorgeous memories from our wedding day, the honeymoon, and the exciting transition into building a home and routine together have become cursive words in a diary and photos hanging in our home.

The second year has brought up all the stuff we thought we knew, but have kind of let sit beneath the surface all this time, which is a surprise because I thought we had gone through all that “stuff” before we got married. That was always the goal anyway. The second year has brought up all the little things that we have forgotten could be endearing (like Cody’s incessant snapping and clapping, which he swears is not an expression of anxiety and impatience) and difficult truths that run deeper than dust (like my tendency to, for whatever reason, assume the worst of intentions from the man I should trust the most).

The second year has brought up ideas of beginning a family, but not knowing “when” we’ll be ready (Ha! Is anyone ever really ready and prepared for parenthood?). It’s brought up core differences in our philosophies: he’s a planner and has no problem playing chess with circumstances and the wheel of fortune. I, on the other hand, have no problem giving Jesus the wheel and whispering in submission, “Thy Will Be Done”. You’d think these two seemingly opposing world views would doom the relationship – and maybe this really would be enough cause for a couple to sign divorce papers –

but we’re not those people.

Our long distance journey was the climbing of a mountain. It was long, arduous, seemingly never-ending, but there were those trips where we finally got to see each other that allowed us to breathe and admire the view of our efforts. When the road got hard again, we at least had the memories of the last rest-stop that kept one foot climbing in front of the other for the continuing journey, as painful as it would become.

I’d like to say that our long-distance love has prepared us for this very moment in our marriage (and yes, it really is only a moment in the scheme of time). I believe long distance living helped us develop a kind of grit that keeps us going.

Grit. According to Wikipedia, it is a positive, non-cognitive trait based on an individual’s passion for a particular long-term goal or end state, coupled with a powerful motivation to achieve their respective objective.

So here’s a status report: We’re still on this beautiful mountain of ours, and the last couple years were admittedly gorgeous sights admired from a plateau. We had found really huge boulders to climb onto and just watch, hold hands, and “oo” and “ahh” at all the sights we got to see just because we made it so far.

But then it started to rain a little, as it does. We didn’t do anything wrong; in fact, if we want green pastures, we have to embrace the drizzle. The precipitation, however, has caused for some muddier trails and less clear paths. We’re still holding hands, but sometimes it feels like he has to go ahead of me and all that’s left to hold on to is his pinky finger. Other times, I want to take a different road than what he’s had planned in mind, and this causes a stand-in with frowns on our faces.

Until we can discuss a more strategic plan that compromises both our philosophies, we’ll just take baby steps. There may be shoes lost in the process, but his hand is more important to hold on to.

Gotta learn to dance in the rain, baby.

The rain didn't stop us from picture-posing in Colorado, so I don't see why it would stop us now. — The rain didn’t stop us from picture-posing in Colorado, so I don’t see why it would stop us now.

Year 2, Week 10: Never make assumptions

It was a fun week of swimming, hanging out with my parents, hosting a large party (that had awesome reviews – yay!), and finding our way onto a beach to read and relax. That’s what we did but it’s not what was really on my mind.

I’ll try to be clear, but it’s going to be vague, so prepare yourselves.

It’s official: it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, you will experience miscommunication.

My mistake was assuming that we had moved passed the capability of being in the midst of a conflict spurred on by one of us not understanding the other. Turns out that, when new experiences arise, new conversations have to be had, and if you and he have never been in a certain scenario before – and you don’t actually hold the other person’s worldview (as much as you’re proud of knowing as much as you know) – there will be miscommunication that grew from an assumption that somebody made.

If this doesn’t make sense, that’s okay. I didn’t really believe it until this last week – and it still boggles my mind. How did I misunderstand his intentions so much?

If it’s annoying you that I’m being so vague, that’s because this is how I felt all week: feeling my way around, following one interpretation until it turned out to be wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

Year 2, Week 9: I choose not to grow a marriage gut

Cody bought me running shoes for Christmas last year. I was grateful for the gift – I was pleasantly surprised that he remembered me saying I needed new shoes to be active in, but I was also a bit intimidated – the bright white, light-weight soles were clearly scolding, “You have to be a serious runner to wear me!” I half expected the B logos to sound the alert – “Fraud!” – the moment I slipped the shoes on my feet.

But on a January day when the temperature finally broke freezing, I put on my fleece sweater, windbreaker pants, ankle socks, and brand new shoes. One of my colleagues had told me a few weeks earlier about how she’s been using the C25k app to start running more frequently. I was intrigued, simply because I realized I needed to start using the shoes that Cody bought me weeks beforehand. The way my friend explained it made it almost sound appealing: The c25k app basically assumes you have had zero running experience – I didn’t – and trains you to be able to run 5k in ~10 min. mile – which I thought would be kind of nice. Cody’s always talking about goals and stuff, so here was one. I could wear the shoes and that’d be that.

So, on a cloudy and relatively warm 37 degree day after work (in Chicago, you take what you can get) I chose to start my C25k training. Walking for 90 seconds and running for 60 almost didn’t seem too bad. I tried to ignore the ears stinging with cold, but I didn’t want to give Cody a reason to think his marriage to my wimpy ears or his generous purchase was bought in vain, so I kept going. I wanted to show my husband that I truly appreciated his generous gift. In the mean time, I was literally giving my heart a much-needed loving after some (much) neglect. I appreciated my warm home when I closed the workout tab on my phone.

Cody received my completed workout report (he’s one of my Runkeeper app “friends” via the MyFitnessPal app). His reaction was so simple: “Hey! Look at you!”

I can’t believe how much his simple comment fueled my motivation to keep going. Never underestimate the power of simple affirmation. Behind his four-word message was an entire high school band where trumpets were triumphantly blaring and I was the one who just scored the game-winning touchdown.

The shoes that started it all and the peanut-butter chocolate chip flapjacks that fueled me. — The shoes that started it all and the peanut-butter chocolate chip flapjacks that fueled me the day of the 5k.

Because of his support and because of MY choice to slip on the shoes he bought (even though I didn’t think I’d like running or even had the energy for it), I did run my first 5k.

Since that day, I have run a second 5k with one of my best friends, jogged in the sweltering Arkansas sun (who am I?!), and CHOSEN to wake up before sunrise on a Wednesday morning.

So what am I getting at? I guess my main message is that Cody supports my choices.

She needs shoes? Fine.
I decide to run? Awesome.
A 5k? ..that costs how much? Okay.

She wants to go to Montana for 10 days without me?
Well, duh, she should go. But I’ll miss her. The reunion will be sweet 🙂

An improv class? $450? Omg.
Yeah, okay, go have fun.

Did she really just call her new pairs of shoes “school supply shopping”?
She is on her feet all day as a teacher. I get it.

She is working late again?
What a boss. That’s why God made weekends.
I’m glad she likes what she does.

The choice to be active with my husband is also a very important choice we’ve been making. We’re trying to keep our hearts healthy so we can enjoy more years together.

Not to mention the weird motivation that’s come out of nowhere: “Ania, run one more block. It’s so your baby can have a healthy Momma.” My baby is still just an idea, but she’s already pushing me to be better. Crazy.

Just this past Saturday we decided to walk the mile to the local park, play tennis, and go swim some laps in the pool. No marriage gut for us!

Year 2, Week 8: I didn’t like my marriage this week

I didn’t like my marriage this week.

Now, keep in mind that I didn’t say anything akin to “I didn’t like being married this week” or “I didn’t like who I was married to this week.” No, I’m very clear when I say I didn’t like my marriage this week.

This week, my marriage felt stale. It felt too routine, like a sock that’s too stretched out and consequently abandoned in the back of the drawer. It felt forgotten about, like a bag of family-favorite nachos that someone forgot to seal. I’ve grown used to the feeling of a crunchy nacho when I’m in the presence of my partner, but this week I felt like there was something off. The chip didn’t crack when I bit into it. Dare I say I felt ignored, too? In fact, after Cody presented his idea of moving to Mexico for a couple months, I can’t help but admit that I felt second-best and second-choice – the cheaper cut of the meat. I wasn’t the gleaming learning opportunity just on the horizon or the soft sand beaches of wherever he would be going. No, I was the pouting wife who sort of hoped this whole plan would fall through. Am I a horrible person for thinking this way? Maybe. But I’d rather be honest.

This week made me understand why some couples don’t make it through the second year – and verified my belief that Cody and I will “make it” just fine.

This week, the lusty, I’m so in love with you feelings were not there. There was no honeymoon excitement or even an “I’m so glad I’m married” thought. No, this week, my marriage was dull.

But then we hung out with our niece and nephew on Saturday night and had a genuinely good time with them. We had breakfast with my parents before church on Sunday morning, and then we walked to the zoo with my other brother and his family. During all this quality time, I couldn’t help but notice how affectionate my husband was being and, over the course of the weekend, it was enough to remind me that I am definitely not second-best. This weekend, he held my hand and we talked about something other than monthly budgets, Roth IRAs, morning routine building, meal-planning, and financial independence. While we watched the Brookfield Zoo sea lions with Cody making jokes about the overweight seal sitting motionless as the other Geralds swam around, I realized things weren’t so bad. The super-in-love feelings weren’t gone for good, they just went dormant for a little while so that we could focus on other things. Although Cody may try to find ways to make his life better, I am the best thing. He made sure his quality time with me proved so.

This last week, I didn’t like my marriage, so I told my husband. Quality time and open communication patched that right up. Sometimes you have to talk about what’s bugging you if you ever hope to fix it. To make it better, you have to uncover the bandaid and let the wound breathe a little, even if it stings.

Now I’m here listing the things he does for me that often go unnoticed. When I start thinking I’m second-best, I realize it’s because I’m comparing the way he shows love with the ways somebody else might. So no, my husband doesn’t show love like everybody else.

Instead…

He does the dishes when I’m too tired after work.
He’ll take out the trash because his parents raised him to.
He’ll respond “Yes, ma’am?” when I call his name from across the room.
He’ll hold my hand when we’re fighting.
He opens his arms and clasps them around me when he sees I’ve had a long day.

He won’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, but he lets me have the last piece of Waffle House chicken.
He won’t buy me a card for the holidays, but he’ll buy me plane tickets to Hawaii to visit my best friend.
He won’t buy me a new dress and lay it on the bed, but he will bite his lip when I slip on his plaid long-sleeve.
He won’t announce on Facebook how much he loves me because it’s in the glint of his eye when I do or say something silly in front of his friends. It’s the kind of stuff I used to think made me “weird” or unlikeable. Turns out somebody loves the part of me I thought was undesirable.
He won’t post #wcw on one of my pictures, but he will put his hand on the small of my back and whisper, “You’re so beautiful.”
He won’t take me out to dinner every Friday, but he will light candles after putting a pizza in the oven.

I feel like I could go on, but I won’t. My point is, there are ways to make the chips crisp again. I didn’t like my marriage this last week, but I did choose love every day. And so did he. That’s why we’ll be just fine.

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Year 2, Week 7: Long distance… again?

This found poem, created by Austin Kleon, was my gift to Cody in honor of our first wedding anniversary. It’s nothing too fancy: a piece of paper housed in a simple black frame. This poem best describes my perception of marriage as a safety from never having to do long distance ever again (if you’re in the same bathroom, you’re not exactly counting down the days until the next time you get see each other!). In fact, one of my favorite things ever about marriage is the sense of security I feel when I realize my best friend won’t leave my side – he promised that much. And the man keeps his promises.

So what is this feeling I get when Cody walks in the house after a long day at work and, with a grin, tells me about his plan to apply for an opportunity that gets his blood flowing in all the right places? He can work for his current company and learn something new somewhere else.

Yes! Go for it, baby! I have no doubt they’ll see your value and accept you right on the spot. You’ve been waiting a while to have this feeling pulling you towards something so strongly. Embrace it.

Where are they located again? I asked. Sorry, I may have missed it when you said it earlier.

…Mexico?

Hm. Well.
I support you, no matter what. You know that.

But isn’t marriage not leaving?
I guess 2 months isn’t that long; military couples are apart for way longer. This could be so good for him!
I’ll be fine; I’ve been finding ways to entertain myself since 1992.

But I thought this long distance thing was done.
But I did get to travel in Spain for a month and then go to Montana on my own, too… He should have the same freedom!

Will we be apart for Thanksgiving? Or his birthday? Or my birthday?
Grr.
Obviously I need to let him go and be 150% supportive,
but it’s hard being supportive.

I thought marriage meant not leaving.
But two individuals following their passions is more important than two individuals squandering their desires simply to be standing in the same bathroom at the same time, flossing miserably.

I suppose he can watch me brush my teeth via Skype. It’s not like we haven’t done it before.

Year 2, Week 6: Better Together

My husband has always loved water; maybe all the ponds, lakes, rivers, and oceans he’s fallen in love with are all reflected in the blue eyes with which he shows his love for me (yeah, yeah, okay, too corny, even for me). In all seriousness though, the sight of water really does calm Cody, massaging his soul more than music, exercise, and even reading.

For me, an equivalent escape has always been found amidst mountains. It’s hard to explain the feeling I get the moment I see a change in topography from my Midwestern plains to a lift in the land. I am filled with anticipation and quiet expectation – what will I learn about myself here? What will be revealed while I’m here? Where do I need to feel small in my life again? What will I finally embrace about myself? To find myself in the mountains is to be reminded that life is a gift to be treasured and used wisely – It is the realization that I am actually very small.

Cody’s escape is water; mine is the mountain air. Er, that’s how it usually was, anyway.

Cody has been to many incredible mountain ranges already, but I felt particularly honored when I was able to watch him fall in love with the mountains like I had a decade before. I will never forget how much joy was radiating from my husband when we had gone as close to Long’s Peak in the Rocky Mountains as we physically could as a group.

Cody pointing out the snow over yonder. Look at that big ol’ smile!

The boy could have done fifty cartwheels and not tire. His pure joy was shining – the boy was a happy human and I was excited to see him so happy.So fast forward to this last weekend when we were at the lake. I had an incredible time, and Cody noticed how much I was enjoying myself

by frequently commenting how much he loves “Summer Ania”, telling me “[I] should keep her around” even when I have to start teaching in a couple weeks again.

I was sad to leave when the sun went down, but my heart was soaring on the car ride back home. Cody could probably feel it because he broke our thoughtful silence:

“You know what’s funny? How you felt today is how I felt when I was in the mountains. And mountains are usually your thing and water is usually mine.”

I thought about his observation and added, “You had your best friends in the mountains and, today, I was with one of my closest friends by the water. Maybe it doesn’t matter so much where you are but rather who you’re with.”

And, honestly, even though we’ve had wonderful opportunities to travel so much this year, the biggest reason they’ve been so extraordinary is because we’re seeing these places together. We’re hiking the same paths, “ooh”ing at the same sights, and reminiscing about the same memories when we’re lounging on our living room floor months after we’ve returned.

Even when we’re home, however, we’re seeking those same memories to make with people who are important to us: friends that have become family and, on the opposite side of the spectrum, those we’ve met that we hope become good friends.

At the end of the day, Cody and I are building our very own village:
even though life is being kind today, who will be by our side when life becomes difficult tomorrow? Who will help us raise our children into good people? Who laughs at the same things we do, and cares about the world in the same capacity? And – most importantly – who will help us be our best selves so that our marriage continues to be a refuge where we don’t feel the need to escape anymore?