Faith Life

Year 6, Week 1: for better and for worse

It’s hard not to worry about the clouds gathering in the distance, wondering if they’ll find their way to you. But what if they did, and you found that you were still okay? Part of the beauty of this season of my life is realizing that, regardless of the circumstances, I’ll be okay. All will be well. The best is yet to come.

Last Sunday, we were celebrating our 6th anniversary in black clothing, enjoying a “small” family gathering in my parents’ backyard (with three older brothers who each have a wife and two kids it’s hard to consider us a “small” family). I was so grateful to have one day to pause the cleaning of our apartment and last-minute storage packing, and emotionally preparing for my grandmother’s wake the next evening and subsequent burial on Tuesday morning.

The hardest Mass I’ve ever had to play and sing for was my Babcia’s funeral Mass. Cody knew it would be, but he chose to sit only a few feet away from me, close enough that I could squeeze his hand when I wasn’t playing.

By Wednesday, I was pretty spent. By Thursday, my sore throat was turning into a stuffy nose, and by Friday, I had lost my voice. It was my fault, really. I had stopped taking vitamins and put my body through a lot of stress (though, all things considered, the stressors had piled up and all that was left was to endure them. I told myself that the rest would come when I arrived in Costa Rica. The time crunch for a Saturday morning flight demands a lot, but add in the time to grieve the matriarch of my family and whew, that’s a tall order.

So it’s a good thing I’m tall.

Anyway. I don’t mean for this to be a list of grievances or complaints or “Why me?”s. All things considered, the last couple weeks have been so ripe with blessings. I’ve really felt my family come together. I’ve felt the support of my husband. We chose to postpone our flight from Tuesday to Saturday (I can’t even imagine flying out on a morning when everyone else was going to be at my grandma’s gravesite), and I was able to hug so many people I love (that I wouldn’t have had an opportunity to see had my grandma not passed).

I’m finally learning and grounding myself in the truth that my emotions and the circumstances that create those emotions (let me put this in a way that our friend Matt said on Friday) “aren’t good or bad – they just are.” And it’s so true.

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster. And treat those two imposters the same…
“If” by Richard Kipling

By the way – this truth comes as a result of A LOT of therapy, reading, and investment in relationships that have been such a solid support and foundation for me. I did NOT have this perspective two years ago. I felt captive to my emotions, and it wasn’t until I learned about cognitive distortions and how to reframe my thinking that I could find my way out. If this is you and you don’t have a therapist yet, what are you waiting for, boo!?

I think the same truth, and approach to the reality that is relationships, goes with marriage. Cody and I have been through some lowwww lows this last year, but our hands somehow still found their way to each other. And, this last weekend, we’ve held hands as we marvel at this life we’re stepping into: it has been a dream for so long that we would live abroad, within nature, by the ocean and mountains, and boom. We’re here. Tamarindo, Guanacaste, Costa Rica. For the next year, we’ll get to explore and wander and wonder and fall more in love with life and each other. And whether we’re experiencing conflict, or loss, or uncertainty, or the bliss of feeling alive, we’ll ride the waves together, treat them all the same, and find peace within ourselves and each other.

Amen.

Year 4, Week 49: Waiting for Our Baby

I’ll never forget receiving the message that day, over a year ago. It was textless – a sound file. When I increased the volume on my phone, I heard them: strong, rapid, healthy heart beats. One of my best friends from high school – a woman I look up to, live life beside, and never let slip too far in my rearview mirror – was sharing the news of her pregnancy!

This wasn’t the first time I had experienced a pregnancy announcement; in fact, I’ve been able to celebrate with my family and many of my family’s friends throughout my life. With this announcement, though, some unexpected emotions manifested.

Let’s be real: I do not want to admit this, but it’d be a dishonest reflection if I did not. And it wouldn’t show the enormous heart transformation that has occurred since then.

So here it is.

The amount of envy that infiltrated what should have been a purely joyous moment was deeply disturbing to me. It was the first time that it had happened, and I know why.

This was my peer in just about every sense of the word: though she was a grade above me in high school, we were track and field teammates, both ambitious students, and subscribed to the notion that women should help each other rather than create more drama for each other. I knew the moment she called to tell me about the guy she had met that she was going to marry him: “It’s in your voice. The love in your voice. This is your guy.” We got to see them get married on such a gorgeous day and now it made complete sense that they would be welcoming a baby into their lives!

But Cody and I had been trying for a baby for a year at that point, and the tears that I tried to swallow when my friend sent me that message were really awful. The sudden feeling that it was somehow unfair was the worst. Unfair? How was it unfair? Even writing it down for the public to see is terrible. But I know this is common. I know this is a thing. I didn’t WANT to feel the way I did, but I DID. Now the question was, How could I stop it?

I don’t want to be blinded to what I have because I’m too busy looking at what I don’t.

I vowed then that I would never allow someone else’s joy–and their desire to share that joy with me–ever be soured by bitterness or envy. It couldn’t be. Not feeling complete joy because something absolutely wonderful is happening is NOT the way it should be. It’s not the way I want to live my life. I resolved that there had to be a better way.

Being grateful for what I have RIGHT NOW is 98% of it.

It has taken a dependable group of friends, women who know my heart – who know I don’t have bad intentions when I tell them I feel sad and happy at the same time – and women who have experienced the waiting. It has taken a husband who doesn’t put pressure on me or who reminds me that it’s not my fault that it’s taking us a little longer than it might take other couples. It has taken parents and parents-in-law who don’t remind us at every turn that we should probably be giving them grandbabies at this point. It has taken my own willpower to resist snapping back at those who try to reassure me saying, “But you’re so young. You have time” and believe them, instead. It has taken the power of prayer to keep my heart calm and peel away the frustration that things aren’t happening on my own time.

Ultimately, here’s what I know as truth. And it’s this truth that grounds me and keeps me positive, happy for others, and guards me against that awful feeling that might threaten to creep up every now and then:

I will have the perfect baby at the perfect time. I’ll know, looking at my baby, why it was meant to happen then and not necessarily when I wanted.

That’s it.

How do I know I’ve had a mental and emotional transformation? Well, you know how we’re able to test our physical health and progress through competition, or measurements, or other tests. But what about mental health? How do I know I’ve improved so much?

Well, this last week, I not only visited the newborn of our very best friends, but the next day I visited another newborn of a good colleague of mine and then, the very next day after that, after that first beautiful heartbeat message, I got to celebrate Remi’s first birthday. With either of the visits, there was no bitterness, no sadness, no anger, no jealousy. I got to watch one of my very best friends celebrate her daughter’s first birthday. I was able to play with Remi, cuddle and giggle with her.

Does the yearning still exist? Absolutely. But there’s a comfort in the waiting now that wasn’t there before.

Thank God for that.

Year 3, Week 1: Fear Can Suck It

I don’t like being complacent. I don’t like when something is so stagnant for so long that it begins to feel like it’s dying. This strong dislike is probably why teaching as a profession sounded so alluring to me.

Now, I know, teaching –from the outside– seems like so much of the same: wake up for school, listen for when the bells tell you you might have enough time to go pee, have lunch at the school cafeteria if you forgot your bag at home, and come home to do more homework (if you have time after all your clubs and sports meetings are over). But that’s just the structure. The real meat of teaching is in all the time in between – the interactions you have with some kids who might trust you most in their world, the frustrations who have with some others whose personalities you just can’t mesh with, and the creativity that happens when make magic happen in your own classroom.

Creativity needs structure. And I have not had enough of it this past week. I’m making moves though – silently staking out different strategical posts to maximize my spiritual, emotional, mental, and physical health. Isn’t that what summer break should be about anyway?

Where does this all mesh in with my marriage?

Marriage is simply a structure. It is a set-up idea created by somebody who thought it’d be a good idea and others agreed with that somebody. In the end, it is a structure created by man. It’s frequently destroyed, re-assembled, or re-interpreted, for better or worse.

But the gifts of the structure, man. It’s something quite lovely.

My marriage allows me to feel complete freedom – which might strike somebody in the throes of their single life as a ludicrous statement. But hear me out – sure, I ‘don’t get’ to run around with all the Fabios of the world, but I have something that gives me more balance and ultimate joy. I am able to come home knowing and trusting that my man is coming home to me. To someone who has placed all their trust in someone and had it destroyed, I will argue that he was simply an arse and shouldn’t dictate your future happiness. But I digress.

Like one of my English professors once told us, “My wife tells me, ‘You can get hungry anywhere, but you have to eat at home.'”

Knowing that I will have a safe place to which I can return at the end of the day gives me the confidence to try a million endeavors and know that I will still have love to tuck me in at night even if I fail.

So I’m making the moves. I’m re-evaluating relationships that have grown stagnant and I am seeing if it’s possible to revitalize them. I am accepting to end those relationships when I realize it no longer has a pulse. I am so looking forward to growing healthier, more vibrant relationships over time. I know there will be empty space, but I’m allowing myself to be vulnerable in that place and looking forward to the journey.

I’m praying with greater earnest, following the “Thank you, I’m sorry, Please give me” method (it takes 5 minutes, but allows me to reflect on my day more intentionally before I fall asleep).

I am reading as much as I possibly can before teaching in August steals away a bit of my leisure time. I’m investigating self-publishing options to publish the first Wife Reflections Guided Journal: 52 Prompts for a New Wife and looking forward to finally finishing my first novel so I can set that up for publication before autumn.

And I just signed up for a 6-week fitness challenge with the hopes that I won’t just be considered “pretty” or “pretty skinny” but “strong” as well. My fear of never being good enough is having its final hurrah. That Ania is gone.

The structure of my marriage allows me to be more daring and creative in every aspect of my life.

Fear can suck it.

Year 2, Week 46: Low Expectations and Lots of Grace

At the beginning of any potential relationship, I take my sweet time. I meticulously observe the person I’m getting to know and wonder how their character will manifest itself in the variety of environments we might be in together. I started this very deliberately in high school. The girl who became my maid of honor was a volleyball try-out friend first, then a classroom partner, then a lunchroom buddy, and then a best friend. Our relationship grew slowly, but intentionally. I talked, and Kristen listened. And then she talked, and I practiced listening better. Kristen was with me every step of the way during my long-distance relationship with Cody, and she always supported me, even if she thought I was being crazy. She let it all out during her speech at the wedding though, so I think we’re even now.

I always told myself my high expectations for people was a great thing. I told myself I was doing this meticulous character inspection because I was a smart girl and smart girls have high expectations. I enforced these high expectations and reaped some benefits: a few amazing friends and a stellar husband. And then I found the flaw in this approach when it didn’t work out in my favor.

According to the old adage, I am who my friends are. So, if I was a stubborn ninny who immediately gave up on someone once they showed a weakness and flaw in character, so would my friends. One of my dearest friends has become a stranger to me because we do not yet have the grace to forgive each other and move on. But this is a blog about wife reflections and not friend problems, so let’s get to the point.

This high expectations approach might work in attaining the type of person you want as a life partner, but it no longer works if you want to stay married.

I mess up on a daily basis. Despite my manicured, witty performances outside of the home, I say the wrong things and show my flaws recklessly. When it comes to Public Ania and Cody’s Ania, Cody’s Ania is a lot messier, way more insecure, selfish, and needy. By the end of the day, I really do wonder how such a good guy like Cody would want to stay with me, one who has so much to work on? But let’s be real – despite all these hiccups, I still expect him to breathe and understand. He vowed to stick around through thick and thin, right? I’m not as thin as I was in high school, and I’m layered in complexes and anxieties galore. But he still loves me, and that expectation is embossed on solid foundation.

BUT here’s the twisted part. When he has his own slip up, I get upset, wonder what I was thinking seven years ago, and find it difficult to award the same grace and forgiveness. It’s a terrible double-standard and I’ve been working on this since the beginning of our relationship.

When I maintain these almost too-difficult and too-high expectations for my husband, I am not allowing him to be his true, flawed, perfect self. It’s true when they say that there really is no perfect person – just the person you choose to love despite those quirks. Shoot, you even learn to find the quirks endearing (see Bridget Jones’ Diary for an example).

I’ve decided this week that, if I keep my expectations lower, I’m way less disappointed, much more delighted when things go well, and able to focus more on how I’m giving to the relationship and less on what I’m not getting. To be clear, this doesn’t mean I forsake my own wants and desires and needs. It just means I look at my husband’s calloused hands before I demand a massage of my own.

“O Master, Grant that I may never seek
so much to be consoled, as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
and to love, as to love with all my soul.”
– Prayer of St. Francis

This last Tuesday was a really long day. I came home briefly, saw Cody for a hot second, and told him I would be back in 25 minutes. Even though 8pm was approaching and I’d been working for a good 12 hours, I had one last errand to run. When I FINALLY came home for the evening, there was a hot, nutritious meal ready for me, tea waiting for me, and a big bear hug wrapping itself around me. If I had spent the whole day expecting that he’d do all the laundry, keep the house clean, and make dinner, I would have been setting him up for massive failure. He worked all day, too, after all. Instead, I focused on the immediates in front of me and I felt taken care of and forgiven for that day’s flaws. Wow. God’s love manifested indeed.

A quote from our perpetual couple calendar says, “Give 90% of yourself to your spouse and expect only 20% in return.” I scoffed at it the first time I read it because us independent women should have high expectations. But, after almost two years of marriage, I realize that it’s not fair to expect everything of him all the time. We’re not dating any more, where we would have some days apart and he’d have days to plan these extravagant adventures. Instead, we plan together as we weave through the day-to-day blessings of ordinary life, and although this sometimes feels less glamorous and romantic, it is definitely real.

By granting my husband the grace of low expectations, his choice to give of himself then becomes a true gift of sacrificial love.

Year 2, Week 31: Uncomfortable Conversations

There are so many quotes online about love and relationships, and they usually sound nice and uplifting, but I keep scrolling and move on with my day. I finally stumbled upon one, though, that I thought was right-on and thought it was important to share:

I am willing to claim that uncomfortable conversations are at the heart of every growing relationship. When each person is in the same place in life, conversations are easy; in truth, they’re probably so easy because they’re not quite deeper than discussing one’s likes, dislikes, and past formative events. It gets more challenging when factors beyond one’s control begin entering the equation – a new job, or an opportunity that is located in another city, or a new personality that’s entered the mix that threatens to destroy the dynamic you had grown accustomed to. Regardless of the circumstance, a relationship will always feel like there’s resistance – like there is something “in the way” of it becoming just perfect, or whole, or magical.

It is never whole, perfect, or magical.

It is only your perspective that can make it appear so. Therein lies the magic.

The secret? Remain committed to your person despite the hardest conversation. And, if you don’t have a “your person” yet, stay on the look-out for the type of person you wouldn’t mind having difficult conversations with. The only way to know if that person will be “yours” is if you can have a disagreement, talk it out, and feel like you love him/her more than before.

If it seems simple, that’s because it is. It’s really only the commitment that needs to be tried. Like a wise student told me the other day: “The quality of a relationship depends only on the effort put in.”

Potential difficult conversation topics no one told you to expect during marriage (these could be from experience, or not):
– Who actually pays for the wedding
– What if your vision of your wedding day looks totally different from your future husband’s?
– So we have a joint budget now? No? Yes? Does that mean I can still spend my money how I want? No?
– Wait, so we’re not having a dinner date night every weekend? But I heard it’s important!
– Do we celebrate Valentine’s Day?
– How would you like your birthday celebrated? No, really.
– Why are you actually a slob?
– Family. All the topics and sub-topics and even more you never saw coming.
– When do you want a baby?**
– Do you believe in God?
– Do you believe in unconditional love?
– How much time do we actually want to spend together after work? Do you need more wind-down alone time than I do?
– Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
– What’s your dream? Do our dreams match? Again, the scary part here is that dreams, just like non-negotiables, can change.
– How many times a week do we want home-cooked meals? Who’s going to cook them?
– Wait, what kind of school do you want our kids to go to?
– I’ll add more over time, I’m sure.

**It’s important to note here that before you accept (or propose) a marriage commitment, there are some fundamentals that definitely need to be discussed (not agreed upon, necessarily, but definitely come to a mutual understanding and respect for one another’s views), like whether or not you want kids, how important family really is to you, religious values, etc.

My point is – every couple will have different unforeseen challenges ahead. The goal is to find the person who will want to hear your ideas, feel safe enough to contribute his own, and ultimately see you at the end of the equation, regardless of the method you take to get there.

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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