Serving My Marriage

                                                                                                                          *Photo by the amazing Kara Stewart

I do not want to be a part of the disintegration of my marriage.

I want to build what I could easily destroy.  Love what I could hate.  Serve when my expectations would want to be served.  Be present when I want to avoid. 

This man I married, may I always love him, encourage, protect, speak well of, give wholeheartedly, demand less, thank more, and always delight and arouse him.

This is my heart as a wife. 

They say it takes two to break a marriage.  I don't want any part in it.  I don't want a list of reasons or excuses.  When he fails me, may I remember his destiny.  Let my words always see ten steps ahead.  I don't want to be a woman pointing at what is before me, but one who reminds him of where he is going.  I don't want a list of reasons or excuses, why I deserve different.  There is no better than what I have.  I promised my life to this union and each day I want to live fully committed to this man.

So when we lie in bed and I remember we haven't taken the kids to the bathroom, I jump up and take them, without pushing the equally exhausted man out to do it for me.  His joy that it's taken care of, is more than reward enough.  Even when it's a close cuddle, kiss in the hair, and half asleep whispered thank you.  He is important and every way I can, I want to show him.

When our children are bickering, let me be the first to put my book or email away and stand to parent.  Despite how easy it feels in a moment to call from the other room.  Even when it feels like what I am doing is more important.  Let me not live fully dependent on him to fix every broken thing, but enjoy that when he is there he is quick to rush to fill any need.

When he acts in a way I don't agree, may I be found silent.  When I need to speak let it be privately with gentleness, love, and encouragement.  Remembering that 'a soft word turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger'.

May I always believe the best.  When I start to worry or doubt, let my heart trust what I cannot prove.  May I push my fear aside, knowing that he is all he claims to be and let my heart rest, believing he is even better.

I want to see the man he is called to be and let him work out his journey while I stand beside cheering him on.  May I never point out his flaws or weaknesses.  Simply call out his strengths, reminding him of his great destiny. 

When he is tired, may I be a place of rest.

When he is hungry, let the work of my hands nourish him.

When he needs me, may I satisfy him.

I have found that the more I pour into our marriage, the more I am blessed with in return.  He is quick to surround and encourage me.  As we strive for the other’s best we each reap so great a reward.  It is not in the desperation of personal need that achieves gain, but the delight in serving what is not asked or expected.  We each are the others best defense and greatest support.

It takes two, but you won't find my hands pulling this apart.  I want to give my life to be the best choice he has ever made.  He is the best decision of my life.  So, when you see me building and strengthening, it is because I'm shoring us up for all the storms that life brings.  That when they come we are safe in a house built on a solid foundation.

Let grace sustain, faith lead, hope direct, and trust surround this tender journey of two becoming one.

When Life Does Not Go As Planned.

I had these fabulous plans of filling this New Year with blog posts from a warm corner in my kitchen.
Steaming coffee or tea in my hand while I regaled you with stories of my children's antics or delicious recipes.  I wanted to inspire your heart and refresh your mind.  This would be easy enough as the long awaited dream of my heart was finally coming true, my family was heading home and we were going to settle and stretch out our roots and enjoy all of the fruits of a life planted.

Then our plans fell flat before us and we stared at our dreams sinking like a long awaited drink into the every thirsty sand.

It was a little like the cartoons where they look at each other and shock, fear, anger, hurt, and grief run rampant across their expressive face.

We had to move, and all of our lives were packed carefully into boxes and placed into storage.  Necessities were tucked into suitcases and for the first week the kids and I stayed with family, hoping against hope everything would work out.  When the week stretched on we came to stay with Eric who was bunking with some friends.  We pushed our suitcases against a wall, grabbed mattresses out of storage, and have been walking daily through a season that is the aching epitome of waiting.

I had planned on going through this season like a brilliant star showing everyone how to exist when your expectations and plans crumble.  Then as the reality of what this looks like, keeping my children quiet, watching too many movies, living as carefully as we can in a home that is not ours, in a world we barely belong - I have crumbled.  Everything that was so important has been pushed behind me and my focus is on our hearts, how to go through this without being destroyed.  We have pulled in and are clinging to hope.

I have been cut off at the knees and I suffocate with my lack of power.

And here lurks the truth.  It is not in our stunning moments, it is not when everyone looks at our brilliance and points, to how effortlessly we maintain.  It's in our weakness, here, where pain and discomfort writhe, that we are made strong.  I don't like to share the hard things, sometimes I feel as if I play like a broken record.  But truth, in the moment, is better, than a story of hardship told on the mountaintop.

This is where we are.

A little room, tucked away in San Jose.  Waiting against hope that we'll be settled before spring.  That these seeds we're cradling in our hands will stand the test of time and we'll be planted as the weather warms and stretches and the dirt is ripe to hold our sacrifice.

Sometimes, the Worst.

When everything goes wrong and it's not even 8 o'clock.

That has been my morning.  It really all started at 1am last night.  The moment I laid down and felt the tickle in the back of my throat, that I knew would result in a full blown cough attack.  I blew out a sigh and stumbled to the medicine cabinet to grab a few quick swigs of nyquil.  It's not typical for me to take cough medicine, but I needed the sleep pretty desperately, and I didn't want to keep the entire clan awake through the night.

I woke with the typical full blown hangover of one who has drugged themselves in the name of peaceful sleep.

I mumbled to Eric that I needed coffee and tried to bite back the angry words at the full of sunshine, too happy children that tumbled over my exhausted body.

After an eternity, the smell wafted in before my saint like husband came bearing a steaming cup of my favorite brew.  Thick and dark, everything I needed to help pull me from the haze that engulfed my complete being.

I pushed up against the bed frame and prepared to begin my morning completely right.  Perfect moment, perfect husband, perfect coffee.  It's the stuff that fuels my life.

You know how horrible things almost happen?  You can see the worst and then it doesn't occur and you breathe out a sigh and think how bad it could have been?  An heirloom teeters on a shelf and you manage to grab it before it crashes to a million pieces and you feel that thrill of gratitude and joy that the worst didn't happen?

Yeah.  That's not how my moment went this morning.

As I reached out for my coffee and Eric carefully handed the hot cup into my hands with a paper towel to help catch any little spills. . . My hands shook and it started to splash, I felt that panic, that you feel, when you know it's all about to come crashing around you, but you also feel as if you can stop it.  

I didn't save the moment.

It splashed down my arm and started to burn, then half the cup went over my stomach and the rest of the contents spilled over my mattress, down the wall, and soaked into the carpet.  There was nothing within a three foot radius that was safe.

sigh.

There are days.

There are moments.

I'm on my second cup of coffee.

I feel a bit discouraged and I want to chalk the day up to a waste.

Sometimes nothing goes right and it feels as if you should chuck everything.

I guess this would be where the saying, "toss the baby out with the bathwater" applies.

So, I'm taking back my day.  It's going to be an incredible, wonderful, full of joy, perfect moments kind of day.

I also wish each of you the same.  Blessings and joy.  The fullness of life.  May this day, be a day the Lord has made.  

Coffee burns, coffee stains, ruined moments, discouraged sighs, and frustrations can linger, but they don't have to.

Accidents happen and we each have a choice for how we're going to handle them.  We can allow them to destroy every bit of good or we can shove them back into their place of momentary glitches.  

My morning sucked.  My day is going to be incredible.

Let's get to this.

daughters

Like a fairy she stands, flowers in her hair, mud on her face, tangled hair and dirty hands.  A flower torn from earth, roots shake and dirt covers my floor.  All for the bloom that barely had time to form.

Cherub face stares.  Eyes wide.  "Please stop a moment, and be with me."  Whispers in the silence of a rage I cannot hide.

Things must be neat, houses must be kept, dresses pressed and dainty, floors that must be swept.

She comes to me and haunts me in my day.  Little fairy wonder, longing for me to stay.  To be with her, in moments, when a list demands, I push from these still longings, to fight the demons that reside.

Kneeling to the girl child, that holds a flower in her hand.  I still for a moment.  Let lists fling from my hands.

I cup her muddy face, stare deep into her eyes.  Then I hug her and her dirt, let roots leave their trace upon my shirt.  Flower in it's water, kept inside it's crystal vase.

We laugh in child wonder and I find my perfect place.

Not in lists and laundry, with fat rolls, and with face, I'll be the mother in her memory who loves with desperate grace.

The Arrival of School.

My baby boy is in kindergarten.

When you have a child, there are a million plans, a million dreams.  You are constantly saying things like,
"oh, well when they walk, then I can. . . "
"when they're weaned, then. . ."
"when they're potty trained, then. . ."
"when they can pick up, then. . ."
"when they can feed themselves, then. . ."

When you become a parent you lose all of the freedoms that you took for granted.  You learn what it's like to drink your coffee cold, how much less enjoyable it is to eat dinner while nursing.  You linger less and hurry more.  You are slapped in the face by all the can'ts that have suddenly taken over your life.  You begin to fantasize about all of the old freedoms you'll get back as your children grow.  It's almost like a giddy, guilty pleasure.
Oh, well I will drink a glass of wine when we go out, and linger over every bite of a two hour dinner, without having to get up fifty times.
Maybe you'll wear heels again.
Maybe you'll go back to work.
Maybe you'll read a book all the way through, rather than in bits and pieces throughout the year.

But, it all hinges on one thing.  Your baby getting older.  That wonderful, strange, pink thing you birthed that looked at you with barely focused eyes and woke you in the night and needed you, with every single ounce of their being.  That baby will grow.  They will need you less, they will focus on you less.  You will find yourself demanding their attention.  They will push from your kisses rather than lean in.  Your baby will find their own identity and they will demand that you see them as a separate being.

And it aches.


For a while, in that midnight haze of nursing, and changing, and feeding, they were a part of you.  Then they grew and while they still need you, they very, very slowly develop into their own little person.

You will find that you are so caught up in this change.  You'll revel in drinking a hot cup of coffee while they look at books beside you.  You'll enjoy pushing them on the swings and playing chase.  You will love the feeling of their hand in yours while you walk down the street.  Little freedoms, that at the time cost you nothing.  You simply enjoyed the growing beauty that you were carefully tending.

Then all at once, they have grown and now it is time to send them away.

They must go to school.  They must learn all of the things that are so very important.  They'll learn about our country, how to read, how to write, how to add, and subtract.  All of the things that you were slowly teaching, now they must sit at a desk and learn with all of the other children.  They are now big.

It feels like the worst sort of wrenching.  As if this life I birthed is being stolen away.  I do not like it, no, I do not like it one bit.

When I look at his face, I see my baby, I see the boy wonder in his eyes, I see his tender heart.  I want to protect all of those things that I have been nurturing since he came to this world.

Rather I have relinquished him to another.  Someone else is teaching him and tending him and demanding that he figure it out for himself.

Other children are either being kind or they are not.  There is nothing I can do.  I cannot run interference.  I have to let him learn about who he is, when mommy is not around.

I get to watch as he grows, but not all of the moments are spent with me.  He will enjoy accomplishing tasks, and I will hear of them from his daily recants or reports from his teacher.  Little things that I have so jealously guarded are now being recited to me.

I do have more freedom.  It's just my three year old and myself.  Yes, it is easier.  Yes, I can get more done.  But, there's this empty spot in our day.  I go back to find out what's taking Judah so long, only to remember he's at school.  When we cross the street I reach for his hand, but it isn't there.  He is sitting in  a classroom looking aptly at his teacher, memorizing colors and letters.  He's playing with new friends and running.  He's smelling new paper and freshly sharpened pencils and he is associating them with the newness of school, the crisp air of fall.

He is finding his way.  My sweet precious boy is growing up.

I jealously want to guard him from this.  I want to take him to Neverland.  I want him to brandish his sword and believe that he can fly.  I want him to laugh without thought.  I want him to be exactly who he is right now.

I want to freeze these moments.  They simply fly by, too fast.

My first born, my son, is in kindergarten.

I know that he needs this.  I know that this is right.  It simply aches to watch them grow.

I no longer care for the freedoms.  I would simply hold tight a little longer.

Judah's Lunch

Good Morning!  I hope everyone is surviving back to school this week or enjoying their last days of freedom before chaos strikes.


For Judah's first day of school lunch, he had turkey, cheese, two hard boiled eggs, a pickle, cherry greek yogurt, raspberries, and for his snacktime a lara bar.

Snacktime

My snack this morning, half an apple, fresh raspberries, and a tablespoon of raw almond butter.

My baby girl

This little lady and I are getting used to lots of alone time together.  Everything feels off without Judah around.

Blessings to each of you in this new season and your pursuit of the best possible health, life, and joy!

Good Morning. Muffin Recipe.

A few of the glorious things about waking up at 4:30AM.

Lying in bed until 5:00AM to see if there is any chance that you are going back to sleep.

nope.

Write a blog on why diets suck.

Send parents a list of places they can use a senior discount.  Point out that they are eligible for senior discounts.

Lie in bed wondering if you should exercise.

Get up and go on a 3.5 mile run.

Dry brush.  Remember you have a sunburn and that it was a bad idea to dry brush.

Shower, dress, put on lotion and makeup and deodorant, straighten hair.

Feel outrageously accomplished!

Go in the kitchen and create an awesome gluten free strawberry muffin recipe.

Here you go.  The benefits of my early rising.

2 1/2 cups Bob's Red Mill All Purpose Flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 teaspoon xanthan gum
1/2 cup coconut sugar
2 tablespoons coconut oil
2 eggs
1/2 cup unsweetened applesauce
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 cup vanilla coconut milk
1/4 cup ground flaxseeds
4 dates
either 1 1/2 cup fresh strawberries or 1 cup dark chocolate chips

bake at 350 for 30 min.

I mixed the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, xanthan gum.
Blend the flaxseeds for about 15 seconds.  Throw in the dates and blend for just a second, you want some texture in them.  I have a vitamin which makes this super easy.  If your blender can't handle the dates just chop them up.
I mix the coconut oil with the coconut sugar, then mix in the applesauce.
Add flax, dates, coconut oil, coconut sugar, and applesauce to dry mixture.
Mix eggs, coconut milk, and vanilla, then add to the rest of the ingredients until everything is well combined.
Add your strawberries, chocolate, or whatever mix in you feel like.

Bake and enjoy.

Cotton Candy and Kids

"Mom?!  Is this cotton candy good for my body?"

"Nope."

"Oh.  I guess I don't want it."  

"You may have it sweetheart, just don't eat it all.  Sweets are okay sometimes."

Teaching your children how to enjoy treats is not easy.

Some parents are much better at this than I.  If there is candy within a 100ft radius, I will sniff it out, and eat every bite.  I do not have a grid for when to stop.  I always want to believe that I will stop tomorrow, but that is a lie.  I love treats and sweets too much, I think that I will always desperately crave them.  And yes, I am eyeing your dessert, please don't ask if I'd like a bite, I will eat it all.

I am a health nut who longs to put only the best things in her body and craves snickers like a crack addict.  Many out there talk about when the desire for sweets subsides, and it does, but for some of us it is really just lurking out of sight.  You never know when, after my day of eggs, avocados, nuts, and countless tons of veggies you'll come home to find me face down in an empty ice cream container.  It's a sneaky bugger.

And I am the person who is supposed to teach her kids about self control.  Me.  It's like a bad joke.  Or tell them not to eat sweets.  When in actuality I want to say, "Yes, cotton candy is hell on your body, but who cares, lets see who can finish their bag first."  I don't do that, I think it, I want to say it, but I just stand there, sharing as much truth as a normal, sane, adult would and let them make their own decisions.

Sometimes they choose to go for the treat and other days they reach for a banana instead.  It's not because I am a great role model.  I'm not, but I do try really, really hard to teach them to make healthy, unemotional choices.  I do my best to do the same.

No, I will not ever be a parent with a candy drawer.  I won't have a candy dish, and if there is ice cream in the freezer, it's only because I haven't found it yet.

I wish that I was wildly controlled.  That I didn't stare too long at the candy next to the check out counter.  That when my son says, "hey mom, we should get ice cream" I wouldn't hesitate before saying no.

I don't always say no.  I just try very hard to say no a few times a week.  I love junk food.  It seems painfully unfair that it should wreak such wretched havoc on my body.  I know it is doing the same to my children and that makes me want to push harder, to be stronger.  

I never want my daughter to think we don't eat certain foods because they will make us fat.  That has never been and will never be the reason.  We are not afraid or concerned with fat.  We are very aware of loving and treating our bodies with value and respect.  We believe that food is medicine and if you want to be healthy, look young, and feel good you need to be careful what you consume.  

While I'd rather be racing you through a banana split, I'm going to sit here, eat my carrots, and try and find as many ways as possible to make vegetables more appealing.  Maybe sneak a hunk of dark chocolate now and then.

Amazing Spaghetti Sauce.

Desperate for an awesome, easy, healthy dinner that will thrill everyone in your family?  Kid's included?

I am happy to announce that this is not just wishful thinking.  

First, this is my mom's spaghetti.  Not my mother in law's.   My amazing mother in law is the only one with the true Italian touch, and Uncle Jim, and Auntie Sue, and Lori.  It also wouldn't be called spaghetti.  It would be roni's or gravy or cavatellis.  When I'm looking for comfort food, however, I want something from my Californian childhood




.

It amazes me that my kids will eat this with zucchini noodles.  Since I have yet to order a spiralizer, I simply use my vegetable peeler.  It works great.  

~Recipe

1 red bell pepper

1 small yellow onion

4 cloves garlic

2 Tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 1/2 lbs ground beef

1 can diced tomatoes 

1 can tomato sauce

1 can tomato paste

8oz water

3teaspoons salt

3teaspoons garlic powder

1teaspoon cracked pepper

1 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano

1/2 teaspoon dried basil

handful of fresh Italian parsley

Chop.  Mince the garlic, yellow onion, bell pepper, and parsley.  

In a larger pan, sauté the garlic, bell pepper, and onion in 2T olive oil, on high heat, for about two minutes until veggies are just starting to get tender. 

Mix in the ground beef, stir to incorporate.  Lower heat to medium/high and cook beef until there is no pink, about 5-7 minutes.

Add salt, pepper, oregano, basil, and garlic.

Then add canned tomatoes, sauce, paste, and water.  Let everything boil on medium/low for about five minutes.  Throw in your parsley.  Mix together.

Lower the temp to lo, so that it barely simmers and leave it alone.  :)

After a few hours, you can skim off any fat.

I like to make this in the morning and leave it just barely simmering all day long.  It's an easy meal for Eric to put together when he's home with the kids.

The sauce is great with pasta.

However, we have found that our whole family loves it over zucchini noodles.  With this recipe, I will usually shred about 6 zucchinis.  If you aren't used to raw zucchini noodles with a hot sauce, you should know that they will sweat and your plate or bowl will get a little soupy.  

UNPLUGGED. A Life Without Media.

Survival Guide.

Cue the crazy, oh my gosh! are we really making it through, horror type music.

Survival Music.

Today is day five of no TV.  No TV.  Do you know how hard that is?  It’s hard.  My children are going through detox.  I’m going through detox.  I’m writing this in shaking pain under the counter.

I think it will end.  The yearning to just veg out in front of the box.  Or clean my house in peace.  Or do anything in peace.  Shower without anyone running in crying, or screaming that they pee’d on the floor and wondering how that’s going to look in 5 minutes when I get out of the shower.  Then trying to track down the pee smell with a nose that can no longer smell it, because it just exists in my house.  I swear my house smells like pee.  I hate pee.  My children are so far beyond the stage of potty training.  I think it’s time to throw all of our furnishings out and just start over.  It’s like a car that’s been in an accident, it doesn’t matter how ‘fixed’ it is, it still has been in an accident.  My furniture, beds, oh the couch have been in 5 million and one ‘accidents’.  The moment we get something new, someone will inevitably pee on it.

Oh God, is TV really that bad?

Yes. It. Is.

Whew.  Okay.  Just trying to remember.


You see, somehow I managed to make little addicts out of my children.  I didn’t mean to.  It just sort of happened in the loneliness of the seasons and the small respite that would turn into daily respite, then hourly, and so on until it dominated every moment of our lives until nothing was as fun as sitting at home watching Curious George go to the zoo.  The actual zoo, not fun.  George’s trip to the zoo, awesome.

*Update*
It has been 2 1/2 months since we unplugged our children.  Yes, there is a nice orchestra playing, a slight swell of pride in my chest.  I’m sorry, but do you know how hard it is to become a media free family?!  I feel as if I’m on the other side of detox and I am so outrageously thankful we made it with all our body parts and most of our sanity intact.

If you happen to stumble upon this, you should not think I judge you if your kids watch a million hours of television a day or one.  There are seasons in life where that feels necessary.  We have had times in our lives of massive media consumption, but there was that voice in my heart, in my mind, telling me it had to stop.  It HAD to STOP!!  I was compelled and desperate enough to go through the full month process.

It was not easy.  There were times that I sent them to their rooms to play with their toys because I was going crazy with our constant interaction.  I desperately needed a break from them as much as they needed to live without stimulation.

My heart feels overwhelmed with what we’ve learned.  With the process this has taken us through.  I am outrageously grateful.

We bought stories and children’s music on cd.  They will push the coffee table up against the tv so it’s a good distance from the couch, they put on Jake and the Neverland Pirate’s music and they do these fabulous dances, while we watch, clap, and praise them.  When my children are quiet and I go to find them, it has become more common to find them sitting next to one another reading a book than getting in to trouble.

Our entire family has become more connected and engaged.  My children are happier and more obedient.  Turning off the television, the ipads, the leap pads, and taking away the cell phones has made our lives abundantly more fulfilled and beautiful.

We now watch 1-2 movies a month, as a family, on the couch, with a bucket of homemade popcorn and tea, cuddled together.  Movies have become an event, not a daily occurrence.

My house is much less clean.  Much LESS clean.  There is a constant trail from one place of play to another.  Life seems a bit more chaotic.  There is a greater need to get out and DO things.  We adventure more.  I’m a little more tired, but a lot more happy.

There are pros and cons to all things in life.  For our family the pros of becoming media free far out weigh the cons.

I wish you luck in your own journey, your own beliefs and convictions.  If you read this I hope you feel inspired and not condemned.  As mom’s, as parents, we are doing the best we can.  I believe that looks different in every season.  Good luck to you in whichever season you find yourself.

The confessions of an oddity.

Because I am perfect and you may not be.  I thought I would confess a couple of things.

1. I am not perfect.  I just try really really hard to be and then get really really mad when I'm not.
   a. I am working to let this go.
2. I am not a very good list maker.  I attempt, but somewhere in the middle forget what I am doing and start writing without one.
   a. Maybe this one will be successful.  So that I don't have to get mad.
3. I have expectations.  They are usually not met.
   a. This means that my mother was right.
4. My house is not always clean.
   a. If I know someone is coming over, it will be clean.  Even if my kids have to be tied to the couch in order for this to be accomplished.
5. I think my lower case a's are supposed to be upper case A's.
   a. Maybe I am not a perfectionist, because I'm not going to change it.
6. What if reading this is the best thing you get to do today?
   a. Then I hope you have a cookie, just to make up for it.
7. My mind should not be unleashed.  I think the list is unleashing it.
  a. I'm sorry.
8.  My daughter is not potty trained.  I don't feel like a failure, yet.  I am annoyed with her.
  a. Yes, I know.  Really I do.  Someone will tell me anyway.
9. I love coffee. If I could, I would sit with a book and a GIANT cup of coffee that would never get cold and I would literally never move.
  a. This is a fantasy.  I'm sorry no one's naked, but I just don't think that way.
10. I like ignoring my children.  I am highly skilled at this.  I don't even hear when they cry.
  a. They're very good at paying me back with a shocking mess.
11. I like knowing secrets.  I am very good at keeping them.  As long as you are very clear that NO ONE can know.  If you tell me 3 people can know it won't feel like a real secret and I will tell everyone.
12. I am able to eat an entire pie.
   a. This does not make me sick, just means my pants will be a little tight for a few days.
13.  I think I'm awesome.  I probably think that you are awesome as well.  Unless you suck. In which case no one thinks you're awesome.
14. My New Years Resolution is to eat more chocolate.  To watch more TV.  and to not move more than 5 minutes a day.
  a. Failure is not an option.
15. This is my last one.   I am a sappy romantic.  Truly, I love the cheesiest, gushy movies ever.
  a. My husband does not.
16. Sometimes I lie.

Merry Merry Merry Christmas.

My husband.

I took my children to the park yesterday.  We raced down slides, accosted every person with a dog, climbed too high on the monkey bars, and laughed in the brilliance of a carefree day.  As I pushed them higher and higher on the tire swing, singing happy birthday brilliantly off key, my husband came and slid his arm around me.  Soft and sweet, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me gently.  He'd been out of town for the past two days and finally caught up with us at the park.  I said hi, brushed him off, and refocused my attention on the kids.  Off and on through the night, he'd come close and I would push him away.  I knew I was being distant and I found myself frustrated with him, frustrated with myself and not really understanding why I had a wall built between us.

I could easily remember five years ago when we were living in Madison WI.  Running from the rain into old bookstores, reading on the same pier on which we would later promise forever.  Living, abandoned to our lives, joy, and passions, fully consumed with the other.  Our tiny apartment, where we would talk late into the night and wake too early to watch the people walking through the snow below, on their way to lives and jobs.  Fully catering to the other, eager to please, fascinated with the glee we found in our existence together.  

Fast forward to now, when dishes stack up, the weight of life, children, work, and constant giving out leave us empty and unable to stir up a wisp of desire for the other.  I went to bed last night, after pulling out of my funk.  Apologizing for my weirdness, we slept, our feet curled around each other and two children in between.  I felt heavy and sad.  It's easy to understand where the passion has gone, it's buried somewhere between familiarity and never enough time (alone).  It's easy to justify my pushing away when I feel constantly pressed upon to care for all the corners of our world and I've just finished doing it alone.  And it is easy to realize that if I allow this chasm between us to settle, uncrossed, unfilled, it will simply grow until the other side no longer becomes recognizable and we've buried ourselves in our separate islands of solitude.  Each caring for the family from their own retreat and the others sacrifice and effort becomes unrecognizable in the light of our own.

I could sigh and tell myself this is life.  It's what it's like with kids.  It's understandable, everyone goes through it.  Don't worry, don't press myself to change.  Eventually the kids will grow.  The season will shift and we'll find ourselves again.  But then, I have to think, that is when people look at their spouse and say 'who are you?  I don't know you anymore.'  And they turn and go their separate ways.
  

We are coming up on 5 years of marriage.  5 years, and for 4 1/2 of them we've been filled with the weight of pregnancy and kids.  We've moved 6 times and we have explored and journeyed through the far corners of this country.  We have crashed through waves.  Tag teamed in the middle of the night when colic and the flu kept us up through streaks of dawn.  We have chased through soaring redwoods.  Driven down endless stretches of winding highway.  We have climbed highest peaks.  We have shared each dream, each direction, each passion, each ambition.  We have lived fully, together.

I can say there is no one else I would rather spend my days.  There is no one else who causes my heart to drop when I see their face.  There is no one else who I love more completely, more desperately with all of my being.  And I never want there to be another.  This is it.  All of it.  This is my life and it is irrevocably connected to this man.  I would never change that. 

So, in this place I must shift.  I must transform.  I am challenging myself these 90 days to strengthen my health, to increase our finances, to promote awareness and I am going to add, to focus wholeheartedly on my marriage.  To not allow it to pass unnoticed, but to pour my affection, and attention into it.  To give of myself, without looking for repercussion.   To not allow the frustration of yesterdays, the why did you's or why nots or how comes, keep me from being free in the moment.  

Isn't that what new love is?  The dramatic fascination of another without the weight of broken promises, lack, or frustration hindering its rampant desire.  A blank slate.  The ability to love completely, without thought of the past.

Surprisingly enough I feel a curling of excitement.  Knowing that I am choosing to rewrite my thought process.  To do something new and not settle for the every day.  To live not out of reaction, but action.  

To each of you, may your days be filled with joy.