Category: Wife Reflections

Year 2, Week 22.5: How I Won NaNoWriMo 2016

A teacher asked us one year as a “First Day of School” icebreaker what our biggest dream was. I was last to answer, and mine was pretty far-out: “I want to write a best-selling novel one day.”

That became “I want to write a novel one day” and, after hearing my father-in-law tell me with zero doubts in his voice, “You know – you’d write a great book” I decided “one day” wasn’t good enough for me anymore. I hated being all talk and absolutely zero action. I committed to NaNoWriMo – writing 50,000 words in 30 days, with the hope that the first draft of a first novel would be born.

In it’s most basic form of understanding, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month and, in it’s painful form of explanation, it forced me to confront all the ugly parts about the creative process: the doubts, the uncertainty of whether I could even do this, and the temptation to use excuses of “not enough time” or “writer’s block.”

I learned so much about myself in 30 days – here are 6 ways how.

  1. My husband really is my biggest fan. The man stood there like the father he will be one day, demanding I put my cellphone in his hands because it was distracting me. Again. But he’s also the first one to light up in a smile when I tell him I met my daily word count (1,667 per day, to stay on track). He was able to express physically what I felt mentally: pure joy at me embracing what he (we) always saw as my potential.

  2. I learned who I don’t feel like I have to “please.” As a perfectionist, this is huge. I usually do not like sharing ANYTHING until it is ready for admiring eyes, so if you saw my long-faced SnapChats or I sent you a text message asking for prayers or I saw you and grinned, telling you of my progress, that means I am deeply convinced that you would still love me, even if I completely failed and gave up halfway through November. But it’s precisely because I told you that I’m pretty sure I made it. I wanted YOU as motivation because, even though you would have still loved me, I did not want to let you down. So thank you. Ideally, personalized Thank You cards will soon be in the mail.

    Special shout-out to my co-workers in the teacher’s lounge who would ask me what my characters were up to that day. In many cases, what we would discuss often-times fueled that evening’s writing.

  3. I learned how to shut off my “inner editor” – that voice that would keep telling me things like “That sentence was stupid” or “That word is so elementary; you’re an English teacher for crying out loud – how could you not be more precise?” By Day 20 when I was 5000+ words behind, however, I didn’t have time for the inner editor. She needed to go, because I needed to write. Fast. (As a result, I also learned how to write faster. Thank Jesus, because I never would have “made it” otherwise).

  4. I learned how to make writing – this often elusive desire and never a concrete practice – a priority. I look back and wonder how I was able to write SO much in such a short amount of time with so many other responsibilities. Turns out that with less TV and way less Facebook and more intentional, prioritized, scheduled “me” time, I was able to do it just fine (and without losing any sleep!). I needed to stop flaking out on that part of myself that just wanted to write. If a part of me kept feeling like the kid that kept getting ditched, well, that stinks, so I had to start showing up.

  5. I really love writing by myself in coffee shops. The vibe makes me feel like I’m legit. Also coffee makes my fingers move faster. Can’t say the same for my brain, but I try.

  6. Students began coming up to me and asking them if I could give them tips for writing a book. Who, me? But I’m not even published yet (Shh, inner editor.. Shh.) One student even wrote her own 30,000 words, with no intention of slowing down. The day she was 3000+ words ahead of me on word count, I knew I had to get back on track. Competition is the best motivation, I’m telling ya – even when it’s against a 14 year old who doesn’t realize she just started a fire under your butt 😀

In short (ha! I’m even more long-winded now than I was before), I guess I just wanted it bad enough. I don’t want Cody to feel like the kid that keeps getting ditched, so I choose to keep showing up to my marriage, too. Turns out the hard work is worth it – and it gave me plenty of material for the first draft of my very first novel.

We’ll see where this gravy train takes us.

Year 2, Week 21: Don’t Stop Asking Questions

I heard so many great things about last week’s post, written by the husband himself. We so appreciate the kind comments, and I know Cody was especially buoyed by the encouraging words. In fact, I heard so many awesome things about Wife Reflections that I think we’ll just keep this gravy train flowing for as long as we can.

This means that, even when I’m a mom, I’ll be trying to reflect as a wife raising a child, and not just become all-consumed with a singular role. We’ll see how that goes. Is it even possible? Only time will tell. P.S. I’m not pregnant, but see how the topic keeps coming up? Hard to ignore.

Switching gears to this week’s reflection… It occurs to me that, when Cod and I were first getting to know each other, 21 questions was all the rage. So there’s this questionnaire thing floating around on Facebook that I thought would actually be kind of fun to do with Cody. Apparently he’s supposed to just answer the question without any forethought.

At first, the answers are shallow and uncomfortable, but slowly pick up speed. It’s cool to see myself from my husband’s perspective sometimes. It’s also revealing to see how much he’s still unsure of, even after all this time.

It’s a great reminder to never ever ever stop asking questions.

What is something I always say? “Oh uhm”
What makes me happy? Cats
What makes me sad? Feeling like I have the Case of the “Shoulds”
How tall am I? 5′ 10″/10.5:
What’s my favorite thing to do? Nap
What do I do when you’re not around? How would I know? Play on Facebook? Write? Play piano. You teach students to play piano when I’m not around normally.
If I become famous, what will it be for? Uh, pia–ehh.. Hm.. I bet if you became famous, it would be something you’re doing in the classroom. Somehow getting picked up by a media outlet. It would either be previous students like talking about how you teach differently or maybe you start teaching other teachers. I think it’d be more through education because you touch more lives through education than you do writing or piano right now.
What makes you proud of me? There’s so much that makes me proud of you. I was proud watching you sing [the national anthems]. That’s my beautiful wife. I bragged how cool it was to watch you go through the process of writing on a consistent basis and how amusing it was to see you exclaim how surprised you were that your characters were doing something you didn’t expect, even though you are the one writing it. The fact that I can visualize your characters as if I’m actually reading the book.. I’m supremely impressed.
What is my favorite food? Cheesecake
What is my favorite restaurant? Any with lights and good-smelling soap in the bathroom.
Where is my favorite place to visit? That’s a hard one for us. I don’t think Hawaii was your favorite place. I don’t think Costa Rica was either. Was Greece? You never seem as excited about Greece when I talk about it. Places you’ve been without me? Or maybe it just seems you’re more excited because I’m sad I wasn’t there with you. You say the mountains. You’re always saying the mountains. I don’t know if I believe you. But if I had to answer, I’d say the mountains, because that’s what you say.
If I could go anywhere, where would it be? Heaven.
You get a phone call that I am in trouble, who am I with? If you were realistically going to get into trouble with the law, supposedly, I mean like, the obvious go-to is either Vanessa or Kristen. One-on-one, you’re fine. But in big groups, you get antic-cky. You want to show off. So I think back to the time when you were out with Halyna, Stacie, Emily, Ashli, and Angela.
How do I annoy you? Ugh, let me count the ways. …I don’t want to answer this question. Why hurt feelings needlessly right now?
Who is my favorite actor? All I can think is Magic Mike.
Who is my celebrity crush? See above.

 

Year 2, Week 19: No more “Someday”

Freshman year of high school: “I dream of writing a best-selling novel.”
Senior year of high school: “Before I’m thirty, I hope I’ll have published a book.”
Sophomore year of college: “I’ll start writing when I have more time.”
Senior year of college: “…What is time, really? Is it real? I’ll write when I’m older.”
First year out of college: “I have to focus on being a good teacher, first.”
A week ago: “What if I become pregnant and I only have nine months to write a book before I really don’t have time to write? I am so sick of saying ‘Someday.’ Might as well just do this thing.”

So I started writing a novel, using NaNoWriMo as a guide, mentor, and structured stress motivator. I was tired of Cody always asking every New Years Eve, “So.. New Year’s resolution.. writing a book this time?” Supportive husbands, amiright? I kept telling him that, someday, when I put my mind to it, I’ll do it. I’m happy to report that I am writing an average of 1,679 words a day, for a grand total so far of 11,756 words. I’m thinking of updating my progress here. Don’t ask what’s driving me to write because I think it’s really just my past self’s prayers for future and present me. I’m genuinely enjoying the writing process and have WifeReflections to thank for that.

Very seriously, the messages of encouragement and validation that I have received from so many different people from totally different walks of life have kept me updating this blog week by week. Who knew people would be interested in the realities of my relationship? It is so humbling and magnificent to experience. Thank you.

I don’t mean to make this post seem so short and flippant, but I really need to sleep and prove that I met my word count so Cody will give me my phone back. It’s so past my bed time. Maybe I’ll be so busy working on this “book” that Cody will have to update his very own husband reflection next week. Stay tuned!

Year 2, Week 18: Why “Wife Reflections”?

It is so easy to become disillusioned with society’s ideas of a fulfilling single life, especially when you’re married. It’s so easy to fall into the trap of thinking the grass is greener on the other side.

My antidote? Constant vigilance, prayer, and preventative maintenance.

But that’s not really what I want to discuss in this week’s reflection.

I was able to go to a Pentatonix concert this last week and it was amazing!! I hadn’t expected an opening performance by Us the Duo, but I was really glad they did. Two young 20-somethings took the stage and introduced themselves as a married couple, about to sing their favorite song in the whole world. They proudly shared that the lyrics of the song are their wedding vows. They painted a beautiful picture to the audience of them singing to each other in a wedding gown and black tux. The song itself, “No Matter Where You Are,” is a beautiful reminder for couples what kind of commitment and sacrifice marriage requires in order to survive. What really got to me, though, was the fact that an arena full of people were witness to a strong married couple essentially renewing their vows in front of them. And applauding. I swear I had to squint my eyes to keep the tears from spilling over. In a culture that makes light of “starter marriages” and echoes “(s)he wasn’t perfect but I’m worth it and deserve the best, so it’s his(her) loss,” it was so so so refreshing to witness this celebration of marriage.

Basically, it made me want to hug my husband instead of looking over at the single guy in the next row over. And we need more of that culture.

To be honest, I think that’s why I keep writing my Wife Reflections. I want to be a voice in the culture that raises marriage up instead of bashing it as the lesser life choice. I can be independent and strong and a feminist but still allow myself to melt into cuddles that make me feel safe. I can make my own decisions and pay my own bills but still contribute to a joint account that pays for the roof above our heads. I can wear high heels that make me just a little bit taller than my husband when we go out and still enjoy him taking the lead on a conversation about life insurance. It doesn’t make me any less of a woman for choosing to sacrificially share my life.

So I guess I keep writing these Wife Reflections so I can show that divorce doesn’t have to linger over a couple’s heads like a storm that’s about to let loose. It doesn’t even have to scare a couple from considering marriage in the first place. It’s hard work, but it is so worth it. I hope I show the real side, but I also hope the magic shines through, too.

Singleness announces to the world, “I’m not perfect, but I’m worth it.”
Marriage adds, “I’m not perfect, and neither is he. But he’s worth it.”

Year 2, Week 17: “How Many Kids Do We Have Again?”

Last Thursday we received text messages from some of the kiddos in our lives. One was from a sixth grader who’s just started playing basketball and was excited to invite us to a 7:45pm game the following Friday night, and the other text was sent by our sophomore Poms girl who wanted to know if I could come see her perform at the football half-time show a few hours earlier on the same day.

Of course I said yes. It didn’t matter that my free Friday night just turned into a definitely-not-free Friday night, or that I had told them I’d be there without consulting Cody (FYI the result would have been the same, it’s just respectful to ask whether he had any expectations for the weekend and compromise from there). When I told Cody that I’d be going to our sweet sophomore’s game and then we’d go to our niece’s game later, Cody just smiled and asked, “How many kids do we have again?”

“How many kids do we have again?”

It was a perfect response to something he could have rolled his eyes at, or begun complaining about (“But it’s a Friday night…”). Instead, he so perfectly summed up why it was important for us to go -of course we’d go show our support on a Friday night because we love the young people in our lives as closely as if they could be our own. It’s what we do.

The half-time show was awesome. The girls’ kick line was really impressive and our sweet sophomore’s smile was enough to warm my heart, even if my fingers were frosting over. When I met Cody at home a little while later, we were able to chit-chat about our work-day and then we left for our niece’s game.

A moment I especially love happened during the basketball game. There was a girl who didn’t look like your “typical” athlete on the opposing team  (whatever the hell that even means) – and it was clear to us that she was new to the sport, but it was even clearer that she was super self-conscious. In the defense of her authenticity, you could also tell she tried not to let that tween awkwardness stop her, either. With the game tied at 11, we watched that same young girl score the penultimate point and witnessed the glow-up of the century: the big smile, the high-fives from her teammates, and the fact that, with only 2 minutes remaining in the game, she was leading her team to victory. It was quite a magical moment to see. Cody and I both grinned. With all the goodness behind his voice, he quietly said, “Good for her.” I affirmed, “That girl’s weekend is made.” It was a small moment in our witness, but it was a big one in this human being’s experience. The fact that Cody and I both reacted the same way to this girl’s success tells me all I didn’t realize I needed to feel – that, as future parents, we may not always say the same things, but we’re usually on the same wavelength.

Ultimately, however, in hindsight, what wasn’t said is more important than what was.

Here’s what he never said:
“Why did you bring me here?”
“How long is this going to be?”
“This is painful to watch.”
“She is painful to watch.”
“Poor girl.”

Instead, we focused on the positive. So they’re not that great yet? That’s okay. At least they have a reason to run back and forth. And, sometimes -stupendously- experience such empowering moments that even the sleepy adults in the stands notice. I’m just glad it was my husband who noticed right alongside with me. Pretty cool stuff.

Year 2, Week 16: “Bed time is the best time!”

This last New Year’s Eve, Cody and I decided that, in addition to our own individual New Year’s resolutions, we’d also create “Couple Goals.” In that Goals list were things like cooking healthier meals with fresher ingredients, creating and maintaining budgets, and even setting a regular bed time that we’d follow.

It’s this regular bed time that I want to reflect on this week.

I would not be the relatively high-functioning, usually kind and happy-go-lucky person if I did not receive at least 7 hours and 15 minutes of sleep every night (yes, I’ve noticed the pattern and no, it does not make me lame). Waking up with enough dream-juice in the tank helps me do everything I need to do with hundreds of different personalities every day (yay, teaching!). Without it, I am simply a lesser version of myself, and that’s not cool for anybody. I become shorter-tempered and eat way more than I need to. And I am way too much of a control-freak to be ruled by the monster that is Lack of Sleep.

So at 8:30pm, an alarm goes off on Cody’s phone reminding us to clean-up around the house (any clothes on the floor or dishes that need to be washed are ideally tended to at this time). This alarm is boring.

At 9:05, however, another alarm sings, heralding my absolute favorite time of the day. Bed Time.*

*Hilarious, because I remember never falling asleep at my parents-requested 9pm bedtime. I realize now this was their bed-time, not mine. Sorry, Dad.

Sometime around 9:30, I make a big show of diving into all the covers and smile up at Cod as he closes the door for the night. “Bed time is the best time!” I always sing. And he laughs every time and joins me in the sea of blankets.

“Bed time is the best time!”

It’s either the over-tiredness or complete comfort we feel in each other’s presence, but I swear we’re at our funniest right before bed. We crank out the punniest jokes and find ways to make lighter those rougher days. We literally find a way to laugh out the bad stuff.

It’s crazy to point out, though, that I never would have realized how important our bed-time ritual is to our marriage if we had not spent this weekend away from home. I would have continued to take it completely for granted. Instead, my in-laws (parents and grands) commented the next morning on what they heard before we fell asleep after our 2:30am arrival:

We couldn’t stop giggling.

And this is a regular thing – but because I hadn’t had a chance to stop to appreciate it, I kept taking it for granted.

Bed time is the best time because my bed-time is full of security and snuggles and so so so so so much laughter. I believe it’s a testament to how vulnerable and open we have become with each other, and I couldn’t feel more blessed to have it this way.

So if you ever invite us over to your home to spend the night, apparently you will have noises keeping you up for a little while. But don’t worry – I hear laughter is contagious.

 

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