to be a wife

Lately, I've been reading As For Me And My House: Crafting A Marriage To Last by Walter Wangerin, Jr. It's opened my eyes to the enormous responsibility that marriage really is. I always knew it required a lot of selfless work, sacrifice, forgiveness, etc...but this book puts it in a more realistic framework and really gets at the heart of what it takes to create a Christ-centered marriage that seeks the greater good in your spouse. (Another link about Walter and an interesting booklist.)

But it's also a little scary. Marriage is a wonderful covenant, a blessing, and I'm looking forward to the challenge and joy of being a wife. Although it's a tremendous honor, the great responsibility and expectations are also a bit scary because there will be failure on both our parts. I realize my weaknesses and limitations, I only wish I could be mistake-proof.

I really want to be a good wife. In fact, my internal image and definition of "wife" is, I'm sure, above the national standard. To be a wife, in my book, is not taken lightly. There is no 60% pass rate. It's a big role to fill.

I considered myself a pretty good girlfriend. I'm not high-maintenance, I'm not afraid to get dirty and go backpacking in the woods...in fact, outdoor recreation adventures are my favorite type of dates. I create handmade cards, write sweet notes, cheesy poems for my love, make him dinner, and do all those sentimental things that express my love. I give him his space, try not to nag or whine or be moody...though he understands our gender differences and my emotional sensitivities and needs.

But I also get to still have my own space--my own down comforter, my fruity smelling lotions and candles (even those that resemble mango or canteloupe), my stacks of books everywhere, poem rough drafts on the floor, art projects half put away. But this loss of space, or rather "change" is not really a big deal. After thirty years, I'm looking forward to a permanent roommate!

Being a fiancee is that in-between stage, where we can really start talking about our future dreams instead of hypotheticals. But wedding planning, thesis writing, and the daily toil of living on opposite sides of the city take a bit of the cloud-nine glamour out of being engaged.

Lately, I've been realizing at a deeper level what kind of power both of us have to create our marriage into what it will be, along with God's grace and guidance. My mood, my actions, my words can work to create a loving home and marriage...or one that can be broken by sparks and criticism, disappointment and insecurities.

I found this article (written by a woman) very refreshing. Here's an excerpt:

Young people, many bearing the scars of growing up in broken homes, long for one partner who will be a “soulmate.” So they wait for That One Perfect Person to stride into Starbucks. And they wait … and wait …

I applaud their desire for a strong and lasting marriage. But I’m not sure about this soulmate business. I fear their bright illusions will dissolve into dust the first time they have an argument about money or when she loses her job or he gets sick or either of them decides he or she wants to go to a different church. Even we spouses who are united in Christ have evenings when we just don’t have much to say to each other, those times when we think, Why does he have to be like this? Soulmates always instinctively understand each other. Real marriage partners don’t.

But real marriage partners try. And this is where we expect too little of marriage. Because a marriage wholly yielded to Christ can astonish us. Or, more precisely, God’s work in that marriage can astonish.

I used to believe in that soulmate fantasy. Maybe I still do. What I do know is that Judd is perfect for me. He's patient when I'm anxious, is goofy when I'm being too serious and need to lighten up, is an example of kindness when I want to tell someone what I really think, pays more attention to the little details while I view the big picture, lets me plan a date while he makes sure we get there on time. I knew I would someday fall in love with a man who cares how the toothpaste container gets squeezed. We bring such different, but fun and loving perspectives and ideas into each other's lives.

Unfortunately, I know we won't be perfect as husband and wife. I will be disappointed in myself, and him, each time we fail--or rather, fail to live up to our expectations. We both realize that marriage requires very hard work . . . a conscientious, diligent, focused effort to stay faithful in all things (according to Wangerin's book). We feel prepared for the challenge. Our dating relationship has not been without its challenges--the balance of time spent together vs. time apart; coordinating the demands of school, work and love; dealing with external events (car getting stolen! new job, new place to live, health issues, husky escaping from the yard at night!). We look forward to all the future obstacles and challenges...our own lifelong Amazing Race together, where we learn to navigate the journey together, try not to lose our cool, and always remember to have fun, laugh, smile, and keep love as number one.

So, what does this have to do with writing? Well, being a writer permeates my entire being and as such, my poetry reflects (if not directly, at least indirectly) my beliefs about the world, the people I love, the places I've been, and my overall thoughts, ideas, and values.

At the same time, I also use characters (personas) to reflect other ideas about the world and how I see it. And by no means is my poetry confessional. I'm long past those days of high school poetry which were one step away from Anne Sexton's heart-wrenching open sores.

But love...the idea of it, the actualy being in love, the whole thing...it's a great spark for the muse.

Raymond Carver knew this . . .

Cherish

From the window I see her bend to the roses
holding close to the bloom so as not to
prick her fingers. With the other hand she clips, pauses and
clips, more alone in the world
than I had known. She won't
look up, not now. She's alone
with roses and with something else I can only think, not
say. I know the names of those bushes

given for our late wedding: Love, Honor, Cherish--
this last the rose she holds out to me suddenly, having
entered the house between glances. I press
my nose to it, draw the sweetness in, let it cling--scent
of promise, of treasure. My hand on her wrist to bring her close,
her eyes green as river-moss. Saying it then, against
what comes: wife, while I can, while my breath, each hurried petal
can still find her.

My future husband won't be writing anything like this, but he does write the occasionally brief, romantic, image-driven note or a whimsical, funny poem, full of rhyming couplets. These make me laugh and stir me to say "yes" again.