16 Lessons Learned in Marriage

Today, my honey and I celebrate 16 years of wedded bliss.

16.

Sixteen.

We've known each other for 24 years this year -- dating for roughly 23 of those. (The first year we just giggled at each other -- one thinking the other was a geek and the other thinking the one was a snob...I'll let you guess who's is who.)

It's amazing to think that 16 years have passed since we said our "I do"s...16 years since I walked down the aisle promising myself that I would remember every second of it...and I WOULD. NOT. CRY...hmm...


In honor of the 16 years, I decided to compile a list of 16 "lessons" (really) learned during our years of marriage.

Ready? Here goes:

1. Don't take yourself too seriously.
2. Love doesn't make the world go 'round...but it helps.
3. Never stop making time for each other.
4. Fights happen.
5. When fights happen...make cookies.
6. Be honest with each other.
7. Never give in to the attitude of the world. Marriage is hard work but very much worth it.
8. Marriage before kids is...."boring."
9. No matter how well you thought you knew yourself before marriage...you didn't.
10. Time apart is sometimes necessary...and healthy.
11. Take time to remember your dating years.
12. Share your stories and experiences -- both good and bad -- with your children.
13. Realize -- and accept -- that you're going to make mistakes.
14. Have fun together.
15. Remember the "good ol' days"...because you're living them now.
16. Always be your spouse's BFF.

Need. More. Chocolate.

There are days when I think the above is so very true.

The weights of the world -- both big and small -- really push hard on my shoulders and back.  Things that seem amazingly unfathomable crowd my mind and usurp my thoughts. 

And then comes something little that's personal and sad -- seemingly so small compared to the other quandaries I've been pondering -- and my heart breaks.

It's not that it is insignificant. I don't believe for one moment that any sadness is that. Each has its own weight, to be sure, but each is felt differently by the recipient and those who love her. In the big scheme of things and looking back years later, maybe the "happening" didn't deserve the attention it received. But in the moment it can feel devastating.

A childhood crush. A fun and forever friendship formed.

Or so we thought.

Emily liked a boy (I'll call "Ralph") since she was in preschool. It was just a crush, mere puppy love, and completely harmless.

He was a part of the homeschool group we used to attend, but he was a grade older than her.

She dreamt girlish and fun dreams about marrying him when she grew up. She thought of the children they might have together and where they would live and how much fun it would be to be married to him. Nothing any other girl of 10 or 11 doesn't think about.

We stopped going to the group when I wasn't needed as a teacher anymore. It was difficult to scrape together the amount of money needed for it, and, as it was a fair distance away from us, we felt it might be time to move on.

It was a sad day.

Fast forward two years and Emily is now a proud and happy member of Facebook. She enjoys "seeing" her school friends on there and has even caught up with a few of her old ones from the homeschool group. She noticed "Ralph" amongst others and decided to friend him along with his brother and several other boys from the group. Her crush had all but disappeared since she's met other nice boys along the way.

Then when he didn't answer her friend requests she decided to ask him if he remembered her. His response was somewhat surprising -- especially to me since I always thought him to be a nice and polite boy.  He wanted to know why she wanted to be friends with him. She said she thought they were friends. He told her to come back when she had a boyfriend and he might friend her then.

My heart froze.

Memories of my own such encounters and stories of my mom's similar encounters flooded over me. It was the sort of thing that you hope your child -- no matter how old -- never has to experience for herself.

Years of fairytale friendship and silly dreams and happy thoughts burned to a crisp in that moment.

In fairness, Emily handled it very well -- though she may have secretly cried later in her bed.

Inwardly, I did not handle it well.

I know there are lessons to be learned about wearing hearts on sleeves and the hard knocks of growing up, etc. And, in this case, they have been learned, I'm sure.

Yet, it's never ever easy to watch your child be hurt...for any reason. For some reason it feels like you've worn your heart on your sleeve right alongside her. The pain goes right to the middle of your soul.

But there is a saying:  "Shared sorrow is sorrow halved..."

Pardon us while we go and split a chocolate bar and cry in our tea together.........

Of Weeds and Time and Love

I have a confession to make: I get a little distracted, er, um, selfish sometimes.

I realized this (again) one evening last week when my 10-year-old daughter brought me some flowers from our yard. They were really just weeds, and I shirked them as just that. I smiled tritely and thanked her, asking that she not bring weeds into the house.

Hmm...

Not my best reaction to her thoughtfulness. No Oscar nominations given to me for "Best Role as Mommy."

Hmm...

I forgot about them until later when I finished cleaning up the kitchen for the night. They were wilted and tightly closed, still laying on the counter.

That's when my thoughtless/selfish behavior struck me.

I immediately took them and cut their stems at an angle -- just as you would an expensive bouquet. I put them in a small glass of water and left them for the night, feeling like a "crumb" for not doing so earlier in the presence of my daughter.

The next morning a glass of bright-eyed daisies greeted me on the kitchen counter. I felt a reprieve from my guilt. I wasn't too late.

I moved the glass to our table so we could enjoy them through all of our meals...and I could be reminded that love comes in all forms...and time is fleeting...and even weeds need to be appreciated.

A lesson from a 10-year-old who -- like the flowers she gave me -- is growing like a weed...far too quickly.

Life is short. Take time to smell the flowers...even the weeds.

* * *

Enjoy this video/song I found from Steven Curtis Chapman. It's all about time and love -- and made even more poignant with the recent loss of his 5-year-old daughter, Maria Sue.

(Be sure to turn off/pause the sidebar video.)

Rainbows at Sunset

Life goes by incredibly fast.

I think you really, really see this when you have kids.

One minute, they're so tiny, helpless, and very needy...then they're all grown up and asking for keys. (Thankfully we're not at the "wheels" stage of parenting -- well, maybe bicycle wheels -- but some of our good friends are...and we feel for them!)

I got the following in an e-mail and found it very meaningful. It certainly made me think...

As you grow older:

You learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will.

You will have your heart broken probably more than once, and it's harder every time.

You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken.

You'll fight with your best friend.

You'll blame a new love for things an old one did.

You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love.

So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back.

Don't be afraid that your life will end; be afraid that it will never begin.