Today has been tough. Maybe the most difficult day since we arrived. It's little things mostly...meetings for Matt in Bakersfield two nights in a row, car trouble (his tail light detached spontaneously on our way down the canyon yesterday...my car is in the shop with a check engine light), a crashed hard drive on my computer (with questionable ability to recover my prized possessions--my pictures), and the wait to hear back about a job interview and shadowing from last week. The house is starting to look more like a home and less like a refugee camp after I have finally given it some attention: a vacuum job, some pictures on the walls, and a pantry where I can finally find the baking soda. Perhaps because the immediacy of getting our stuff out of "survival mode" has passed I am starting to sense some emptiness again.
This morning, first thing, the repair shop called with a bad report on what we thought was a small problem. It remains to be seen whether the car really WILL ultimately need $2,000+ of work done...but needless to say, we need a second opinion. These are the things that are tough to know about a new place. It's hard to find a mechanic you trust to not charge extra and to do good work. And until you reach a certain level of familiarity with your surroundings, there is a sense of foreboding, that you must be doing something wrong. Logistics, too, play a part. Cars must be registered within a month of moving, but before registering in CA you need a "smog test" to make sure you are under emissions standards...and no smog station will even see you if a check engine light is on. I want a library card and a bank account, but first we need a California driver's license, which means a test on rules of the road, tons of paperwork to prove residency and employment, the endless line of fees, and a 3-4 week wait for the cards to be sent to us...from Mars perhaps? This stuff makes me crazy.
I've listened to a sermon from First Christian in Decatur online (oh, how I miss their worship and Pastor Wayne's words...), made a batch of soup with some leftovers about to go bad in the fridge, did some aerobics to work out my angst, hung a few more pictures, and still find myself roaming about the house without much purpose waiting for the phone to ring and hoping no more expenses or problems pop up before Matt gets home. There are always things to fill the time and the space...but filling my sense of security and of purpose...therein lies the rub.
Last night while I was chatting with my folks, I was able to put into words something that has been mulling in the back of my mind for several weeks. They were asking me what is different about living here in terms of my relationship with Matt. I can say with great confidence and joy that being here together has been REALLY good overall...very unifying for us and we relish the good times together so much more fully because it really is relationally all we have. We also have lots more TIME on weekends and evenings to adventure and be together. But I will also say that on the hard days it is harder to be all alone here. For some reason, learning to summon the strength to support each other is a different process here than it was at home. It shouldn't be, I know...leaning on the Lord to supply our needs and then giving away all we have to the other ought not to have changed simply because we lack family and familiar surroundings. But it has. My husband is incredible...and I can not imagine my life without his tender care and humor and encouragement. But on days like today, I question my ability to bring anything of value to the table. Compared to his challenges today (crazy schedule so far this week, first formal evaluation without much prep time) I should be flying high, full of energy and joy when he walks in the door, ready to kiss away any of his problems and be a source of restoration for him. Perhaps more than my frustration on the hard days, it is my fear that I will be a burden to him that ties me in knots.
As I was rifling through still unpacked boxes in the guest room looking for a fulfilling project, I came across an unmarked manilla envelope shoved between some bubble wrap and an old picture frame. Inside was a little miracle. It was a letter written to Matt and I from my dad...composed the day after our wedding and delivered on our 6 month anniversary. My grandfather orchestrated a mass delivery of encouragement and wisdom to be mailed to us 6 months into the marriage adventure, and this was one such letter. We read it at the time (though we have been slowly opening and savoring many of the others along the way) and it had been haphazardly filed away in the move. It was what my heart needed today. The letter was really just dad's reflections on the wedding experience from the perspective of a father...using a metaphor which has become so strong in our household. When mom and dad launched into homeschooling they chose Psalm 127 as inspiration:
"Unless the LORD builds the house, they labor in vain who build it. Unless the LORD protects the city, the watchmen awake in vain. It is useless for you to work so hard from early in the morning until late at night, being anxious, for He gives sleep to his loved ones. Children are a gift from the LORD, they are His reward. Children born to a young man are like sharp arrows to defend Him. Happy is the man whose quiver is full of them!"
As kids, we were coached to memorize this and other verses (with accompanying actions) as part of our school day...and our school was named after the text. "AIM Academy" was to be a place for Arrows In the Making. Through our childhood we were reminded that our real purpose was not to be kept in the quiver, but to be launched into the world at the proper time. In the meantime, they took it as their burden to shape and sharpen us for the appointed time and mission. One of my most memorable moments during the wedding weekend was standing next to Dad after the flower girls headed down the aisle. He leaned over and said, "So...this is what it feels like to look at a target and send your arrow into the future. No wonder my heart feels so stretched." The way he dissolved me to tears just before the doors opened was so worth the feeling of great depth and purpose while walking that aisle. I knew that Matt was my future, but he reminded me that my entire past had also been preparation for this launch. Maybe it's because Dad and I are so alike that his words resonated with me for weeks. But it's been a year now. This afternoon when I picked up his letter, I read his version of the arrow's release and his marveling at the great mystery of God's hand working on him--the bow. His last paragraph was balm to my frustrated heart today.
"Take time today to recognize that the flight is long, the target elusive, and the elements harsh. But that's just an arrow's perspective. In all that surrounds you, God has ALREADY determined a purpose. He has taken into account all the variations of the weather and is adjusting you toward His goal. Yours is to remain one in Him, supple to the winds that redirect you, and thankful for the path chosen for you. Give God great praise today for the wonders He is doing in you both...together. God is so good."
Lord, thank you for my parents.
One week ago, Matt and I celebrated our first anniversary...and marveled over apple crisp and honeymoon Moscato at how a whole 12 months had possibly flown by. In some ways, I think we both feel like we have started all over again since moving to California...and it feels a bit unfair...like "hey! we just about had this figured out!" But of course this is a lie. We were just starting to wade into the learning waters that are married life...and I have learned a few things along the way.
~ Matt and I are different. Seriously. He loves mornings, I am a night owl. He is comforted by routine (he eats 2 apples and a ham & cheese sandwich EVERY day for lunch), and I take inspiration and joy from doing things differently every time. His ideal thermostat setting is 78-82, mine is 70-74. I love traditions, his favorite celebrations are those with no pre-planned constraints. He loves caramel, I love chocolate. He loves crunching numbers and analyzing, I love feeling and soaking in the experience. I love giving gifts and doing things for others, his favorite way to show love is quality time and encouraging words (we make a good team on that last one).
~ Matt and I have a lot in common. We love games and cards. We love hiking and being outside. We love water sports (he is good...I am not). We love spending long days with family. We love singing together in the evenings (he also has to play guitar, piano, or uke...I should really learn). We love popcorn in the whirly pop during West Wing. We love to travel. We love being a part of a church that is seeking and worshiping the Lord. We love hot drinks...sometimes in excess. We love watching videos and looking at pictures of family.
~ Support is important, listening is essential, respect is a necessity, advice is optional...and sometimes dangerous.
~ Being Uncle and Aunt is a BLAST. We love the connection we feel to our new nephew.
~ Praying together is the best way to handle sadness, conflict, change, and joy...and is the quickest way for me to remember the great respect I hold for Matt. Watching him follow the Lord in faith, especially in the last 3 months, has changed the way I understand faith so dramatically...and has made me ready to follow both he and God with more abandon.
~ My emotions are not always the best indicator of what is really happening, or even how I really feel. Matt has an objectivity that I long to learn...though I know my heart will always be a bit unwieldy.
~Finding a way to laugh at ourselves is a far better use of energy than trying to be perfect all the time and fix every potential pitfall.
~ Matt doesn't always choose the way or the timing I would...but when he decides to speak or act, he does so with great intention, wisdom, and kindness. When I am able to release my expectations, I see his incredible selfless actions so much more clearly, and am able to fully see the many ways that he cares for and nurtures me.
~ There is nothing more deeply satisfying than finding something I can do which blesses my husband.
~ Conflict is a part of loving. The first few fights were terrifying for me...plagued by "what are we doing wrong?" and "is this normal?" I've begun to be more confident in the fact that valleys ultimately become mountains again with time. I've learned to focus on asking forgiveness and rebuilding hurts rather than dwelling on frustrations. I've realized that sources of conflict don't get erased after a fight...they return almost cyclically to draw attention to our flaws over and over again. I've started to view conflict as my opportunity to have my flaws gradually changed by the man I love most in the world. I've also realized that bringing up "issues" after 9pm is a big no-no...good never comes of it. :-)
~ Common experiences are the greatest joys...whether a beautiful sight, a funny TV line, a conversation in passing, a wise lesson, a quiet night at home, or a life-changing challenge. Experiencing real life together creates unity that lasts so much better than any of my attempts to "get closer together."
~ I am so very blessed.
My love will return from work in just over an hour but my heart is far more ready for him now. With my mind set again as an arrow, I resume my flight--with my seatbelt securely fastened for unexpected turbulence.
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