Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Sunday, April 17, 2016
NPM 2016: Day 17 {Unrelenting}
Unrelenting
January 24, 2016
We are aligned
but not alike.
Our bones
are our bonds
and our flesh
meets with finesse
like unrelenting atoms
of the same molecule.
And so we are one.
But where he sees danger
I envision bliss
and when his hand falters
mine makes a fist.
So if you scorn him
you scorn me.
If he falls
under your judgement
I feel it more deeply.
And in the moment
you believe
you can walk away
quietly,
I will find you
on a coward’s path
and you’ll find
no hesitation
in my wrath.
Wednesday, April 13, 2016
NPM 2016: Day 13 {The Unbound}
The Unbound
January 26, 2016
You meet me on the page.
You tuck in my rage,
kept in trembling knuckles
and gasping breath that buckles
in seconds of silence
between composure
and when all raptures
engage.
I’ve never been subdued like this.
I break myself inside each kiss,
hoping beyond measure
for divinity’s given treasure
like a lost love
with thoughts blurred
among these foreign words
missed.
We forge the unwritten whole.
We are wild on the unbound scroll,
as foxes in the forest’s song
fleeing some chance gone wrong
yet still holding
a heart strong as stone
beside the truth of a known
soul.
Thursday, November 5, 2015
Thanksketching: Day 5
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Sunday, January 4, 2015
Five Years a Loser
Five years ago today I stood in the drizzling rain at the edge of Capitol Lake in Olympia, Washington and a young man got down on his knee to ask if I would marry him. I didn't say yes. I cocked my head and said, "Yeeaaah..." because hard consonants were hard. I mean difficult. They were difficult.
In retrospect I feel that a more confident answer would have been unlike me. It was this moment I knew was coming but nothing really prepares you for when you're finally in it. Yes, I wanted to marry him. We'd known we wanted to get married almost from the very beginning of our relationship. Still, when that time comes and you have to actually face the thing you have been wanting, the decision seems much more overwhelming and incomprehensible than it did when you were just dreaming about it.
And in that moment, regardless of how confident my answer was, I forged my loser-ness with his loser-ness. We were losers together, even before the wedding. Before the vows and the rings and then the road trip cross-country and the fights and confusion and the years of wedded insanity... we were first losers together when I said, "Yeaaah..." Because for the first time, we had this tangible thing that was ours. A relationship is between two people but it is much more fluid and unpredictable than an engagement. An engagement is definitively us, it has a goal for us made by us which will be carried out by no one but us.
On that day, we lost our selves--because a marriage begins long before the vows. A marriage begins when two people agree to get married and consequently agree that every decision from here until eternity is made by both, not one.
Sure, I decide when I want to write a blog and he decides when he wants to buy coffee and we all decide when we're going to use the bathroom or make phone calls or cuddle with the dog. But we become aware that all things, even those small things, affect the other person and we begin to take that into account. This is the mindset that begins before marriage: you lose your self to accomodate the us that has just been made. So if I want to write a blog but I need to fold laundry, I do the laundry first. If he wants to buy coffee but it will make me late for work he skips out on the latte. We sacrifice and lose out on things we want for ourselves in order to benefit us as a whole.
And in all the world there is no one I am more thankful for, more blessed by, more willing to be a loser with.
I love you, Joseph. You make us such incredible losers.
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Thursday, November 20, 2014
Thirty Thanks, Day 20: This Man
Five and a half years ago I met a really nice guy. He had, literally, the bluest eyes I'd ever seen and this adorable crooked smirk. He was really good with kids and animals and had such an upbeat attitude most of the time. He was just so nice. Such a nice guy.
And this was the summer I decided not to date anyone, or even think about dating anyone, or even become friends with boys. I'd just had my heart broken, so I swore I would not make the same mistake again so soon.
Oh well, right?
So I met this nice guy and we fell in love and two years after that we got married and now I'm living happily ever after with this really nice guy.
Except that he's not a nice guy.
It's not because he's the opposite of nice. It's just, I really hate the word nice. When I was teaching, I admonished every student that used "nice" as a descriptor. "Nice" has lost all meaning. Nice is boring, nice is simple, nice is uninspiring. There are so many more words that convey something deeper than "nice." So... no. My husband is not a nice guy. But he is a lot of other things. I am so thankful for my husband, and all of the not-nice things he is.
I am thankful that he is hilarious, because he loves making me laugh and finds humor in everything. I'm thankful that he's focused, and that (even if it takes a while for him to get started) once he gets into a task he doesn't stop until it's finished. I'm thankful that he is gentle and kindhearted, because it means even in our worst arguments he never aims to hurt me or cause me anxiety. It also means that when he apologizes, to me or other people, he is sincere. I'm thankful for his creativity, which allows him to do well at work but it also inspires me in my own creativity. I'm thankful that he's so ridiculously handsome, and that he has an awesome beard (because without it he looks like a twelve-year-old.) I'm thankful that he is faithful--not just to me, but to God. For underneath all the stress and fear caused by this world, he knows who to really trust and serve. I'm thankful that he is adventurous and isn't afraid to try new things with me. I'm thankful that he's extroverted and outgoing, because it takes a lot of the pressure off of me when we're in social situations. (Phew!) And I'm thankful that he loves me, and that despite my human-ness he chooses to love me every day.
I'm grateful that he's not nice, too. Thanks, husband. You're incredible. <3 p="">
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Wednesday, November 5, 2014
Thirty Thanks, Day 5: The End of the Day
As far as schedules go, mine is pretty weird. My husband and I both work nights. I get done at 8pm, he gets done at about 11:30. We're not usually tired when we get home, so this is usually when we relax together. We spend a little time together during the day but it's not usually as relaxed because we have to watch the clock and get ready for work.
It's clear, however, that we are both night owls. (Although I can be a morning person, if I want to.) When we get home he takes the dog out, and then we usually watch some television on-demand (because we're not home when shows air, duh). We make popcorn and I get into my comfiest sweatpants, and when we're bored of TV we play video games. Yes, we play them together--and they're not even multiplayer games! Right now we're playing through The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword. We take turns, but he usually beats all the bosses for me anyways.
Sometimes we read instead. We've been reading through the Harry Potter series again since June, but things sort of paused after my work schedule at school started up. We also started reading Wicked sometime last winter, but... I can't remember why we stopped, or where we are in the story. It's also very common these days for us to be reading separately, but next to each other. (Of course, Joey is only reading 2 books right now. I'm reading 5.)
One night, we even colored together. With crayons. Look, proof! (Yes, we found a legitimate Star Wars coloring book at the dollar store.)
I am so thankful for the end of the day. I'm thankful for the rest I find when work is over, and for the peace in being at home with my husband. I'm thankful for the comforts the end of the day provides. The chaotic thoughts of the day seem to drift away. The building is quiet, the dog is content to snuggle on my feet. I get to spend time with my favorite person, with some of my favorite things.
There was a time, it seems long ago, when getting ready for bed meant putting on my pajamas, wasting time in the dark (while my roommate went to sleep) and then sitting a cold hallway where I would talk to my fiance. Joey was 2000 miles away from me, and every night I would wait to go to sleep until he finished working. This meant it was 1am for him, 3am for me. I was thankful, then, for the time we spent together.But it doesn't beat what I've got now.
Thanks, end-of-the-day. You're incredible.
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Tuesday, November 4, 2014
Thirty Thanks, Day 4: Sleep
| Le sleep space. |
I've personally gone through many eras of restless sleep. I couldn't tell you the reason behind most these times. It could have been stress, or an irregular sleep schedule, or allergies. (We can blame much of it on stress, probably, or the chaos of college life.) I don't know. But I do know that I missed good sleep immensely. And, of course, there's that tragically desperate period between when you head hits the below and finally falling asleep. That time when you perpetually glance at the clock, calculating how many hours of sleep you would get if you fell asleep right now.
I haven't done this recently, and I'm grateful. But there was a period of time when this happened all the time, mostly due to the difference in how I sleep, and how my husband sleeps. In general, men fall asleep much faster than women. My boss and I once discussed how men say they "shut off" their brains at night, and that's all we need to do to fall asleep. This is far from realistic for women, but somehow men manage it every night. When the hubby and I go to sleep, he goes to sleep. He shuts his eyes, his legs and hands twitch, there's usually a loud noise (a snort or cough) and then he's out. It takes less than two minutes. For me, I have to lay there, and think about something soothing.
Yeah, that's right. I have to think about something to fall asleep. I usually imagine a paintbrush covered with green paint, held by an invisible hand painting beautiful vines and leaves. I also think about rivers, and sunsets. Pretty things. You know, because I'm a woman. ;)
My real problem is that I'm a very light sleeper. It doesn't require a lot of noise to wake me up. But once I'm awake, it's even harder to fall back asleep. This is why even on my days off I wait to go to bed until Joey comes home because if he wakes me up when he comes in, I will be awake for another several hours.
But, as I said, this hasn't been an issue recently. Our sleep schedules are synchronized. Our work schedules allow for decent amounts of sleep and rest and relaxation. There is nothing quite like feeling well-rested. Plus, one of my favorite things about sleep is dreaming. My dreams are like movies, but I've probably said that before. They have a plot with a beginning, a middle, and an ending. And I remember most of them, although most people forget most of their dreams approximately 10 minutes after they wake up.
I would also like to mention, as a final note, that having a sleep space is really important. You spend a third of your life sleeping, so it should be enjoyable. Comfy pillows, warm blankets, soft lightning (see photo above for inspiration!) I get to go buy a brand new comforter next week (so far all of the blankets we've had since we got married have been from thrift stores) and I'm so excited, it's practically all I think about. Just sayin.' Sleep space is vital.
I am so incredibly thankful for sleep. So, thanks sleep. I couldn't live without you. Literally.
(Did you know that if you avoid sleep for 10 consecutive days, you'll DIE?)
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Sunday, July 27, 2014
Marriage Is: A Beach
Something simple for the coming week, because the last week was long and did not include enough naps.
I grew up around the ocean. My family moved to Seattle (yes, actually Seattle, not some random suburb) the summer I turned 5 and we spent many sunny afternoons making sandcastles or skipping stones or being buried in the sand by my brothers s at Alki Beach. We visited other beaches, too--up on the coast of Washington, in Port Townsend, or sometimes we went to beaches in Oregon. I remember the lakes with less fondness. They were slimy and gross, and had too many sharp rocks.
Now, it might be because I'm an introvert, or I've always had a poetic soul, or perhaps I just dreaded being pushed under the water by my brothers, but I preferred to sit in the water rather than swim. I did know how to swim, but I didn't want to. I wanted to sit, and I wanted my seat to be about a foot deep so I could be fully submerged but also feel the sandy shore. I liked to watch the water coming in and going out, I liked to feel the waves move around my body. I think I knew it felt peaceful, even though I couldn't yet appreciate peaceful things.
These days I am stuck in Illinois, and there is no ocean. There is a lake. It's not horrible.
My husband and I have been to the beach just twice this summer. The most recent trip was about a month ago, for our anniversary. We went at night so we could light some flying lanterns (so cool!) and watch them sail out to sea. Well... sail out to lake. (And, for the record, they didn't sail out to the lake because it was incredibly windy so they probably sailed out to the train tracks. In case you're wondering, they're biodegradable, and the entire thing burns up so if you were worried about some innocent person getting attacked by a wilted lantern, don't. Not possible.) Anyways. We lit three lanterns in honor of three years of marriage, and we would have stayed for a while except the beach closes at 9 o'clock. Joey would have been happy to hang around until the stars came out.
But my favorite time to be at the beach is in the morning. So back in May we went and watched the sunrise. We woke up at 4 o'clock, despite the husband's whining, and it was absolutely breathtaking (see photo above for proof...). He wanted to leave after about five minutes, but I just wanted to sit. And so I did.
One of the reasons I love the beach so much is because it's two completely different things that make one beautiful thing. You have the water, which may be fresh or salty or have lots of goose poop in it, but it's definitely water. And then you have the shore, which could be made of dirt or sand or just rocks. You put them together and BAM you have a beach.
It's that simple. They are so unlike each other, sand and water. At deeper levels, they're both complicated. Sand is made out of the tiniest particles of shell and glass and rock. And that water, well it could be full of sea creatures and sunken ships, or maybe it's just a lake with lots of goose poop.
Marriage is like a beach. I know I keep making this analogy, about two completely separate things that turn into one thing, but that's really the nitty gritty truth of marriage. You take one man and one woman, you put them together and as a unit they become infinitely more awesome than they ever were apart. How fantastic is that? And how fantastic is it that a beach is just water and sand?
Another important way beaches and marriages are similar is that they move. Tides of peace go out, a wave of conflict comes in. The water washes a dead fish onto the shore and then the poor sand has to deal with it. It ebbs and flows with life's changes. The sand can be too hot, the water too cold. In marriage we change as a couple, but people do still change separately--it's sad to think that for this reason people sometimes get divorced. The challenge is not how to "deal with" or "fix" the change, but how to respond in a way that is loving, and accepting. (Unless that change involves someone becoming a drug addict or getting bitten by a spider and developing super powers. You have to fix/deal with that.) Beyond time, beyond impending differences, the water and shore know that they belong together. They know their relationship is infinite, and so they make it work.
How often do we forget that some of the most surreal and heartstopping things in life are not complicated? Some things just come together simply... naturally... and I find that incredible.
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Saturday, July 19, 2014
Marriage Is: A Tent
I've been thinking recently about the words we use to define marriage. This blog series has allowed me to do that more freely, because I am dedicating real time, during real life, using my real marriage as a context in which to write this. We expect marriage to be so many things, and it is rarely any of those things all of the time--or sometimes it is none of those things, ever. We want it to be beautiful, but instead it's confusing. We want it to be glamorous, but instead it's messy. We want it to be interesting, and fun, and easy, but instead it's predictable and practical and--hard.
And that's where people tend to lose interest--those sorts of words can cause people to disengage with things much less important than marriage. There is nothing romantic about messy, practical, or hard. Gosh, aren't those BAD things? Isn't it BAD for things to be hard?
If you think I'm making fun of you... I am.
It is a childish perspective to believe that saying something is hard or difficult also means it is bad, or has some sort of negative aura. There are children I tutor several times a week, and at the end of each segment of the lesson I ask them their opinion about that particular assignment. "Was that easy, okay, or hard?" Most of the kids say "easy" 99.9999999% of the time. But occasionally a student says it was "hard." You might expect that these are the kids with dyslexia, or who come for lessons at 9am, but you're wrong. The kids who say things were hard are always my most academically-inclined students. When I ask them why it was hard, they tell me it was because they mispronounced "appropriate" once, or accidentally did problem #8 instead of #4 because they lost their place. I am not exaggerating. These students will get all of the answers correct, I will praise them for good work, offer encouragement when they get confused, and STILL if there was one slip up the entire process was "hard." They automatically connect "bad" things with the word "hard."
Isn't it silly to think that just because something is imperfect, it's difficult? And isn't is also silly to think that just because we say something is difficult, it's bad? And, to take it a step further, isn't it also completely ridiculous to think that just because something is easy, it's good?
There are plenty of hard things in life. Baking a pie, learning to ride a bike, driving in Chicago, making a tent, going to college, organizing paperwork, bathing your dog in a small bathroom, or being married. These are all things I actually quite enjoy, and they are difficult in varying ways, but today I am only going to talk about about two of them.
Today's topic! Marriage Is: A Tent.
I went camping this week, for the first time since my honeymoon (yep, we did that!) and man, was it fun. But it certainly wasn't easy! In fact, you might say it was pretty difficult. Some parts more difficult than others but for the majority of the trip it was all heartwarming difficulty with my best friend.
First we organized our campsite by moving the picnic table and deciding on a good spot for the tent. Then we unloaded the car, and began putting up the tent. If you've never put up a tent before, you are seriously missing out. Maybe for some people this is a stressful experience, but for me, the work is very rewarding. (It would be more rewarding, except Joey likes to do a lot of it himself because it's manly, or something.)
So we dump the tent out of the bag, and for the next 20 minutes or so worked together to get it standing, get all the poles in the right place, and then we stood inside it to appreciate our efforts. Not a big deal, right? How the heck is marriage a tent? Where am I going with all of this? I'll be brief, this time. Promise.
1. You need 2 people to put up a tent. Sometimes you need more, if it's a bigger tent. During youth group retreats, we used to have these gigantic army tents. It took upwards of 10 people to get them up. A big tent like that can't be raised efficiently with just one set of hands. You've got to hold a stake here, stretch the canvas there, pull that pole this way. Marriages also need 2 people. You can't make one all by yourself--that's just weird.
2. Sometimes, you just have to trust the other person, even if they don't make sense. Joey is much more of a "tent expert" than I am. However, I am pretty quick at figuring things out, and I get a little thrill by figuring them out on the way. And yet, when he asked me to come hold a part of the tent or push something or find a velcro strap, I didn't argue. I just did it, because he was trying to build something with me, and if we both tried to put up the same tent separately, we would be intensely frustrated. In the same way, sometimes your spouse is going to ask you to do something that makes no sense, or something that you don't feel like doing. You might not want to take the trash out, or change a diaper, or get up in the middle of the night to make sure the front door is locked. But these are all important things, even if they don't seem like it.
3. Be patient. There are two people trying to do the same thing--but they can't read each other's minds. If that bungee cord snaps you in the face, it's probably not because your spouse was trying to give you a cool scar. In marriage, you will likely get hurt and assume someone did something on purpose--but they didn't! Don't jump to conclusions. Ask questions. Talk it out. Don't rush through the communication process.
4. When your tent is done, you now have a place of protection. You step inside, you zip up the door, and you are safe from the rain, sun, and raccoons. When you build a marriage together, if you've put all the parts together correctly, you have a place to come to when you need protection, or rest.
Building the tent wasn't easy. It was hard. We bought this tent at a thrift store for $20 just a few months ago, so we'd never put it up before. I had to ask Joey to vanquish a few spiders. The pole for the door overhang kept coming undone. The canvas on top had all these tangled cords when we took it out of the bag. The whole process was difficult. But I loved it, and it was worth it.
It was hard--harder than usual because it wasn't our old tent. But it wasn't bad. I don't look back on it and think, Well, I hope I never have to do that again.
Marriage is hard. It's hard because you have to step outside yourself every single day and love this other person with your whole soul. You have to deal with them rolling onto your hair while you sleep (Seriously, that hurts!) and not instincually punch them in the face because you're not quite awake. You have to remember to put the toilet seat down so your wife doesn't fall in (this is also a major catastrophe.) You have to make a very organized schedule because you share a car. You have to do so many things, and do them on purpose, and you have to say so many things on purpose (and purposefully apologize for the accidental things.) And it should be that way. Loving someone the right way should come naturally, because you love them and want what's best for them, but it should also require effort, intensity, and it should be intentional.
I love my husband. My love for him comes second only to my love for God. He is my entire world. Loving him is not always easy, always fun, always glamorous. But it is always good, because God is love, and HE is good.
Putting up a tent does not happen by accident. Building a marriage does not happen by accident. Love--the action, not the emotion--does not happen by accident. It's hard work. But it's GOOD.
**You may have noticed I'm not writing about singleness this week. But it's not hard to figure out. Singleness is a tent too... it's just smaller! Or, it's a huge tent for a big group of people. Then you have lots of hands. Either way, I find building a tent is incredible. : )
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Saturday, July 5, 2014
Marriage Is: A Clock
Since beginning this "Marriage Is..." series I have taken some time to write down potential blog posts, as they come, in hopes that I won't get overwhelmed or bored with the idea. I'm not easily bored, but you never know. So far the only series I've done is the National Poetry Month writing marathon I do every April. This, however, is compressed into one topic. It's fairly new to me. So I struggled to decide what I should write about this week, until Wednesday.
Wednesday, July 2nd, was my parents' 37th anniversary. Can you imagine being married for 37 years? That's a really long time to spend with just one person. 37 years of raising children and going to work and buying socks and having fights and cleaning up after people and arguing about where to go for dinner or what movie to see or how big of a Christmas tree we should buy or who left the toilet seat up (it was a male in the house, I guarantee it). In the three short years of marriage I've experienced, we have broken at least 20 dishes (including but not limited to my very precious Saturday Evening Post tumblers, lots of pretty bowls, the occasional less-pretty plate, and the lid to an inherited Mikasa sugar bowl.) I can't imagine how many things have been broken in 37 years.
But more than anything, they have shared time. Which immediately led me to this conclusion:
Marriage is a Clock.

Specifically, marriage is an analog clock, and not a digital clock--for several reasons. I'll list the reasons shortly but first I want to get the "time" element out of the way because it's not my main point. Marriage is a clock because it tells time, it tells you how long until you have to leave, or how late you are, etc. In the same way, marriage is a gauge for other things in life. Your relationship with your spouse helps you make decisions. Like time. Moving on!
Please note that "analog" is the correct spelling for electronics. So there.
1. Analog clocks are traditional, as is marriage. They are not quite as traditional as the candles people used to burn which told how many hours had passed, and certainly not as traditional as sundials. However, they are still one of the most "old fashioned" things people carry around. Despite the prevalence of digital clocks (which I'll get into later) you still see people wearing analog wristwatches and hanging beautifully crafted analog clocks in their homes. Marriage is quickly becoming an old fashioned notion, an outdated institution, but yet, people still get married. They still sign the papers and have the wedding, sometimes just in a courthouse. The point is, marriage is so traditional some people don't even believe in it, kind of like how some grown adults don't know how to read an analog clock.
The concept of weddings, however, leads me to another reason marriage is like an analog clock: 2. Analog clocks are often very pretty. And if they're not pretty, they're certainly unique.
The photo on the left is of my husband (yeah, I know, he's super cute) and the clock we made together at The ReBuilding Exchange in Chicago. We bought the clock kit beforehand and put everything together at the event. The red pieces were pre-painted by some stranger who donated the wood, the brown pieces are actually really lovely cherry wood, and the numbers for the clock were cut from miscellaneous measuring tapes. Its' beauty may not inspire you (or anyone) but it certainly is unique--about as unique as those clocks with teacups for each number or different bird calls for each hour.
Marriage, like a clock, is not always pretty. There are plenty of unhealthy, damaging marriages. (I can't speak for unhealthy or damaging clocks. Maybe they exist, but I'm not an expert on that subject, to be honest.) But in the modern world, where the average person you meet has not been forced into an arranged marriage or married someone for money, most of the time when people decide to tie the knot they've done it with the intention of having a healthy, loving marriage.
Clocks are created to be functional, but they can also be a notable piece of decor on your wall. I made a clock because I wanted it to be functional and look awesome. I made a marriage because I wanted it to be functional and look beautiful.
3. Clocks tick. This is probably one of the most important pieces.
Anybody ever ask you what "makes you tick"? Or talk about what makes someone else tick? What makes a business tick? If you haven't heard it, a brief definition: what motivates someone/something. The ticking of a clock is motivated by gears. These gears rotate together within the watch, seamlessly causing every hand to go where it should and thus express the time. In the case of the watch pendant I inherited from my grandmother, it ticks after it's been wound up. A marriage "ticks" because it has been wound up, it's in working order, all the parts underneath the pristine face are working together.
The mechanisms, or the motivational "gears" of your marriage are up to you. For some couples, you might say "love" makes you tick, and that's somehow vague enough but also deep enough to be true. For others, it might be faith, laughter, or their children, or a basketball team, for all I know. It's usually a combination of many things. Just like there are many gears inside even the tiniest clock, there are also many things inside a marriage that allow husband and wife to continue loving each other and nurturing their relationship.
For me, the gears in my marriage are endless. We are motivated by our faith in God and the conversations this allows us to have, which let us grow closer to each other. We are motivated by and thrive on making each other laugh. We thrive on reading books together and singing loudly in the car and staying up way too late just because we didn't want to stop talking yet.
But here is the real idea I'm trying to share. 4. Marriage is like a clock because there are two hands. Three is a good number as well, and I could go into a metaphor about clocks along with that great verse from Ecclesiastes about a cord of three strands, but I won't. (Not today, at least!) You need at least 2 hands to properly read a clock.
Each hand does something different. The hour or the minute hand can't do much alone. Sure, you could make a hand with just an hour hand, but it would be insanely confusing, because I would always wonder if it was missing a hand and then wonder which hand was missing and therefore am I looking at the minute hand or the hour hand? Seriously, I have thought about this! This notion alone, of being confused by a clock, is enough for me to truly believe all clocks definitely need two hands. They each do something different, but they are each distinctly vital to the function of the clock.
In the same way, each person in a marriage does something different. They are made separately. They are unique. As I said last time, they are whole people by themselves. But they have to work together, or nothing will make much sense. When one moves, so does the other. When one stops, so does the other. The gears inside, the stuff of life which makes them tick, work so seamlessly that they dance on the face of time together. If you try to move one hand without the other... you will probably break your poor clock. The two hands, once together, can never be separated. Til death do us part. (Or until the batteries die, or Captain Hook throws you into a crocodile.)
Now, a few notes on digital clocks. You can probably see where I'm going with this. If marriage is an analog clock, then _______________ must be a digital clock. You guessed it, singleness.
Digital clocks are fairly modern. In fact, if you look it up, you'll find that the first "digital" clocks weren't digital at all. Invented around 1890, they featured rotating numbers instead of rotating hands, but were still run by gears. The clocks we commonly associate with the title "digital" weren't invented until 1970.
Digital clocks also don't tick. Digital clocks don't have hands. Digital clocks could be pretty, I suppose, but those squarish LED numbers are a little too industrial for me to ever call them pretty. The clocks themselves, that being the area which expresses the time, are not pretty. Digital clocks might come in a pretty design, but LED numbers are designed for efficiency, not aesthetics.
This is why singleness is more like a digital clock than an analog clock. I am in no way trying to say singleness is not beautiful or inspiring, I'm not insinuating that singleness is industrial or boring. In fact, singleness isn't very modern either.
Digital clocks are singular. They are easily placed just about anywhere. You have one next to your bed, because you want to be able to tell time immediately. You have one on the coffee pot, the microwave, the oven, in the bottom corner of your computer screen, and your phone (for goodness sake!)... the list goes on forever. The point is, singleness, like a digital clock, has the glorious freedom to be anywhere at any time. Get it? Time? Yeah... nevermind. Just look at these cool pictures of digital clocks and be happy that you're a clock of some sort.
No matter what kind of clock you are, I find you incredible. : )
Labels:
clock,
love,
marriage,
marriage series,
MI,
series,
singleness,
time
Saturday, June 28, 2014
A series. (With Many Notes on Marriage & Singleness)
Some of you may remember a vintage comic by Kim Casali. I'll give you a hint: the comics were one panel, with one repetitive phrase, and... the characters were always naked. Sometimes they wore hats or glasses. Haven't guessed it yet?
I'm referring to the "Love Is..." comic strip. Each panel had a separated phrase like "Love is... taking the seeds out of her watermelon." Between the two phrases there was a comic of the only two characters, a girl and a guy, and the comic would illustrate the phrase. They were all extremely adorable, once you stopped being bothered by their perpetual nudity. They were pretty tasteful, for the most part. (Like this one, for instance.) It was pretty popular during the 60s and 70s. But, I digress. (Although before I stop digressing, I would like to mention that Kim Casali's story is intriguing. Look her up!)
So I have this "Love Is..." notebook. I've had it for approximately 5 years. I've never opened it because it's just so stinking cute. But I glanced at it in my stationary drawer today (yep, I've got one of those) and it started me thinking--love is lots of things. It would probably be a good writing adventure to come up with different "love is" topics. It would be even more of an adventure to write on different "marriage is" topics. And then I started thinking about a whole CIRCUS of ideas and metaphors and themes, so before I knew it, I'd come to a fantastic decision about my next blogging endeavor.
I've decided to start a blog series about marriage. On Wednesday the 25th I just completed 3 whole years of marriage. I'm no longer considered a newlywed, which is slightly sad and insanely exciting. All it really means is that the thoughts and ideas I've had in my head for the last 3 years are finally "old" enough to be respected by some of the public.
I'm not going to preach at anybody. I'm probably not even going to give you advice! I am, however, going to make this series funny and creative--this is me we're talking about. So today I'm going to give you a little taste of what that will be like. I'm running with the "metaphor/simile" theme, because it will give me a little consistency.
Marriage is like... a rubber stamp and an ink pad.
It is not a self-inking stamp. Some might argue that it is or should be self-inking. It's not.*****
A marriage is made of two people. Two whole people, who are made whole by God alone, and are not whole just because they are married. They are perfect for each other, but they are separate beings. Just like the rubber stamp and the ink pad are perfect for each other, you might even say they're made for each other, but they certainly are separate. (If they weren't separate, I wouldn't lose ink pads and stamps so often.)
The difficult thing is, the stamp and the ink don't fully function by themselves. Even though they're whole. Even though God made them that way. Even though they're separate.
The rubber stamp is very pretty all by itself.
Or, maybe it's not pretty. Maybe it just has the date on it. It's backwards, and a little hard to read.
The ink pad is also very pretty by itself. It, too, has some functions. It can still make marks. Like smudges, or big blobs. Still, we all know that's not the best way to use an ink pad.
But look at what they can do together.
*****A separate note on self-inking stamps.
******I KNOW THAT MY PHOTOS ARE NOT OF AN ACTUAL SELF-INKING STAMP. IT WAS THE BEST I COULD DO WITH MY LIMITED (BUT AWESOME) STAMP COLLECTION.
Yes, sometimes these stamps are made. They can be very handy, and have lovely designs. They are often used for addresses. However, they weren't meant to be used or paired with other things. You might find it extremely frustrating to try to soak the ink from a self-inking stamp onto a plain rubber stamp. Likewise, it would create quite a mess (and ruin the self-inking stamp, I might add!) if you tried to use a self-inking stamp with a regular ink pad.
It's because they were created to be self-inking. They are intended to work alone, in the same way that God calls some people to singleness. They create something beautiful without any other people, or other stamps, or other inks. I find this incredible.
I'm referring to the "Love Is..." comic strip. Each panel had a separated phrase like "Love is... taking the seeds out of her watermelon." Between the two phrases there was a comic of the only two characters, a girl and a guy, and the comic would illustrate the phrase. They were all extremely adorable, once you stopped being bothered by their perpetual nudity. They were pretty tasteful, for the most part. (Like this one, for instance.) It was pretty popular during the 60s and 70s. But, I digress. (Although before I stop digressing, I would like to mention that Kim Casali's story is intriguing. Look her up!)
So I have this "Love Is..." notebook. I've had it for approximately 5 years. I've never opened it because it's just so stinking cute. But I glanced at it in my stationary drawer today (yep, I've got one of those) and it started me thinking--love is lots of things. It would probably be a good writing adventure to come up with different "love is" topics. It would be even more of an adventure to write on different "marriage is" topics. And then I started thinking about a whole CIRCUS of ideas and metaphors and themes, so before I knew it, I'd come to a fantastic decision about my next blogging endeavor.
I've decided to start a blog series about marriage. On Wednesday the 25th I just completed 3 whole years of marriage. I'm no longer considered a newlywed, which is slightly sad and insanely exciting. All it really means is that the thoughts and ideas I've had in my head for the last 3 years are finally "old" enough to be respected by some of the public.
I'm not going to preach at anybody. I'm probably not even going to give you advice! I am, however, going to make this series funny and creative--this is me we're talking about. So today I'm going to give you a little taste of what that will be like. I'm running with the "metaphor/simile" theme, because it will give me a little consistency.
Marriage is like... a rubber stamp and an ink pad.
It is not a self-inking stamp. Some might argue that it is or should be self-inking. It's not.*****
A marriage is made of two people. Two whole people, who are made whole by God alone, and are not whole just because they are married. They are perfect for each other, but they are separate beings. Just like the rubber stamp and the ink pad are perfect for each other, you might even say they're made for each other, but they certainly are separate. (If they weren't separate, I wouldn't lose ink pads and stamps so often.)
The difficult thing is, the stamp and the ink don't fully function by themselves. Even though they're whole. Even though God made them that way. Even though they're separate.
The rubber stamp is very pretty all by itself.
Or, maybe it's not pretty. Maybe it just has the date on it. It's backwards, and a little hard to read.
The ink pad is also very pretty by itself. It, too, has some functions. It can still make marks. Like smudges, or big blobs. Still, we all know that's not the best way to use an ink pad.
But look at what they can do together.
*****A separate note on self-inking stamps.
******I KNOW THAT MY PHOTOS ARE NOT OF AN ACTUAL SELF-INKING STAMP. IT WAS THE BEST I COULD DO WITH MY LIMITED (BUT AWESOME) STAMP COLLECTION.
Yes, sometimes these stamps are made. They can be very handy, and have lovely designs. They are often used for addresses. However, they weren't meant to be used or paired with other things. You might find it extremely frustrating to try to soak the ink from a self-inking stamp onto a plain rubber stamp. Likewise, it would create quite a mess (and ruin the self-inking stamp, I might add!) if you tried to use a self-inking stamp with a regular ink pad.
It's because they were created to be self-inking. They are intended to work alone, in the same way that God calls some people to singleness. They create something beautiful without any other people, or other stamps, or other inks. I find this incredible.
Labels:
ink,
love,
marriage,
marriage series,
MI,
series,
singleness,
stamp
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
NPM: Practice
A poem written in the moment, for my husband, this 23rd day of March April. National Poetry Month is quickly ending. I feel like it was swept away from me, and it seems like it lasted so much longer last year. I also believe I'm challenging myself with a higher quantity of "rhyming" poems this year, which is something I can be a little proud of. Joey probably won't read this poem (because he hardly ever reads my blog) but if you read it and you think it's awesome, go pester him on Facebook and tell him to read it. :)
Practice.
hum my husband's hands at his guitar,
deep and a little low,
soft and a little high,
and the sound drifts into me
not too shallow, not too far.
My fingers at the keys here,
hands hard at work but heart hearing,
breathing deep and low,
feeling soft and high,
and patience grows within me
where anxiety left a clearing.
We will live from wall to wall,
hearth to hearth and heart to heart,
loving deep and singing low,
speaking soft and laughing high,
and time will weave inside us
until we can't be told apart.
Labels:
anxiety,
love,
marriage,
music,
National Poetry Month,
poetry,
reflection
Thursday, April 10, 2014
NPM: Lingering
I hold a quiet jealousy,
reticent and proud.
It lingers in my heart
like a fragile, browning leaf
from a brittle-branched tree.
Lingering,
but never falling.
It possesses no power,
sways neither direction.
It is a wish, and a curse.
It pines for a love
to last for all eternity,
but knows in my whispers
that there is no marriage
in heaven.
It wants beyond reason,
it abandons understanding,
hoping that by wanting
I will keep it alive.
And I must.
By letting go of this desire
I might let go completely.
So I will hold my quiet jealousy
in silence and compliance
and make for me and my love
a seasonal heaven on earth
which will one day wither
like the autumn leaf.
reticent and proud.
It lingers in my heart
like a fragile, browning leaf
from a brittle-branched tree.
Lingering,
but never falling.
It possesses no power,
sways neither direction.
It is a wish, and a curse.
It pines for a love
to last for all eternity,
but knows in my whispers
that there is no marriage
in heaven.
It wants beyond reason,
it abandons understanding,
hoping that by wanting
I will keep it alive.
And I must.
By letting go of this desire
I might let go completely.
So I will hold my quiet jealousy
in silence and compliance
and make for me and my love
a seasonal heaven on earth
which will one day wither
like the autumn leaf.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Next time, a nom de plume
Do you ever have one of those moments when you're finally about to carry out a large decision, and you come face to face with the realization that... it's not nearly as climactic as you anticipated?
I did. ALL WEEK. Sigh. Let me explain.
A few months ago: I received an e-mail from the records office, asking what name I wanted printed on my degree. So Joey and I discussed this over a week or so and finally concluded that I would add 'Foutz' to my middle name. (because it's far too perfect to give up completely.) So my degree will read "Katherine Megan Foutz Voss."
A few weeks ago: I got married. I did not change my name immediately.
Last week: I wanted to know if it was better to change the Social Security card or the license first. I had a "renew your license!" notice in the mail and thus made a whole bunch of phone calls...at night... which resulted in NO information whatsoever. I spent a lot of time listening to a computer tell me things I didn't need to know. I scoured the websites for direction but found none. Lost, confused, and ultimately very frustrated, I gave up and went to bed.
Also last week: I called the computer back and told it I wanted to talk to a person. I asked me several times if I was sure. Then, while being on hold, the computer reminded me every thirty seconds that "Talking to the computer is so much better" blah blah blah. And THEN when I called the DOL, I actually got message saying, "We're so busy, we can't even put you on hold."
Monday: Joey and I drove down to the Social Security Administration in Puyallup, had an awkward conversation with a security officer, had to wipe up drool on a counter from the previous client, and ended up not being able to do anything. We drove home. And instead of going to Seattle for the required certified copies of our marriage license, we bought groceries for the move to IL.
Tuesday: We drove all the way to Seattle, and bought two copies of the license for $6 total. After deciding we had time for nothing else (because government offices close at 4:30) we visited my brother and went home.
Wednesday: We drove back to Puyallup, to the original SSA office, and had an even longer and more awkward conversation with the security officer who apparently is a recovering alcoholic and used to collect bottle caps. We gave the nice man behind the plastic window the certified copy.... and he gave it back to us. He didn't ask for my I.D. So we still had two copies. And he gave me a receipt, showing I had changed my name, so I could prove it at the DOL.
So we went to the DOL where I originally got my license, and I was greeted by the nicest DOL associate I've ever encountered. She gave me a number. We sat in some strange chairs which Joey proceeded to break. (just kidding. they were just really noisy chairs.) And when they called me up, the woman behind the counter didn't ask for my social security card, or the receipt. She took the certificate, and gave it back. We still had two copies.
It took a long time to explain to her my intentions with my name--yes, I'm adding that to my middle name. No, don't hyphenate it. Yes, I know that will be part of my middle name. Yes, that's what I meant.
Long story short... I could have saved $3 and several conversations and a lot of gas. The important thing is that I'm now officially a Voss. (but forever and always a Foutz.)
I did. ALL WEEK. Sigh. Let me explain.
A few months ago: I received an e-mail from the records office, asking what name I wanted printed on my degree. So Joey and I discussed this over a week or so and finally concluded that I would add 'Foutz' to my middle name. (because it's far too perfect to give up completely.) So my degree will read "Katherine Megan Foutz Voss."
A few weeks ago: I got married. I did not change my name immediately.
Last week: I wanted to know if it was better to change the Social Security card or the license first. I had a "renew your license!" notice in the mail and thus made a whole bunch of phone calls...at night... which resulted in NO information whatsoever. I spent a lot of time listening to a computer tell me things I didn't need to know. I scoured the websites for direction but found none. Lost, confused, and ultimately very frustrated, I gave up and went to bed.
Also last week: I called the computer back and told it I wanted to talk to a person. I asked me several times if I was sure. Then, while being on hold, the computer reminded me every thirty seconds that "Talking to the computer is so much better" blah blah blah. And THEN when I called the DOL, I actually got message saying, "We're so busy, we can't even put you on hold."
Monday: Joey and I drove down to the Social Security Administration in Puyallup, had an awkward conversation with a security officer, had to wipe up drool on a counter from the previous client, and ended up not being able to do anything. We drove home. And instead of going to Seattle for the required certified copies of our marriage license, we bought groceries for the move to IL.
Tuesday: We drove all the way to Seattle, and bought two copies of the license for $6 total. After deciding we had time for nothing else (because government offices close at 4:30) we visited my brother and went home.
Wednesday: We drove back to Puyallup, to the original SSA office, and had an even longer and more awkward conversation with the security officer who apparently is a recovering alcoholic and used to collect bottle caps. We gave the nice man behind the plastic window the certified copy.... and he gave it back to us. He didn't ask for my I.D. So we still had two copies. And he gave me a receipt, showing I had changed my name, so I could prove it at the DOL.
So we went to the DOL where I originally got my license, and I was greeted by the nicest DOL associate I've ever encountered. She gave me a number. We sat in some strange chairs which Joey proceeded to break. (just kidding. they were just really noisy chairs.) And when they called me up, the woman behind the counter didn't ask for my social security card, or the receipt. She took the certificate, and gave it back. We still had two copies.
It took a long time to explain to her my intentions with my name--yes, I'm adding that to my middle name. No, don't hyphenate it. Yes, I know that will be part of my middle name. Yes, that's what I meant.
Long story short... I could have saved $3 and several conversations and a lot of gas. The important thing is that I'm now officially a Voss. (but forever and always a Foutz.)
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