Posts Tagged ‘marriage’

Dear Mija,

Your daddy and I have been talking more about you recently because you are kicking and moving quite a lot these days. We wonder what you’re going to look like? Will you have a head full of dark hair? Will you have light skin like me or dark skin like your daddy? Your auntie Christine thinks you’ll be caramel colored. We talk about what it will be like with a newborn in our lives? Your daddy imagines all three of us going for breakfast and walking Pepe at El Cerro. I just imagine being really, really tired.

Mija, we are excited to be your parents, but we know we’re going to mess up. You will quickly learn that we’re not perfect. You’ll see me get frustrated and make loud exaggerated sighing noises from the kitchen when I find more dirty dishes in the sink. Daddy might get mad when I pepper him with a hundred questions as soon as he walks in the door. You’ll see us arguing and sometimes we disagree about what we should buy or where we should go.  But we love each other a whole lot and we hope you’ll see that, too.

In fact I think one of the greatest gifts we can give you is a healthy marriage; not a perfect marriage, but a healthy one. One where you’ll hear us say, “I love you” and “I am sorry” frequently. One where you see us having fun and laughing together, but also one where you know how our voices change when we start arguing and disagreeing.

We are fortunate that this is something our parents gave and modeled for us. Yes, Mija both of your grandparents, still love each other a lot and showed your daddy and I what a lifelong partnership looks likes.

Look at these pictures of your abuelitos:

They got married 40 years ago on April 7, 1973. They raised four kids and adopted one more. Your daddy says they showed him what sacrifice and commitment looks even when it wasn’t easy. Your abuelo, Papa Choyo, tells me that your abuela was always the strong one of the relationship. She trusted and prayed when he doubted and wondered how God would provide. Your Mama Hilla just smiled when I asked her if she was the strong one. She said, “No, no fue asi. I just supported him and squeezed his leg under the table whenever he talked too much.”

Now, these are my mom and dad, your Nana and Papa.

They got married 31 years ago on November 28, 1981. They also had four kids and a few dogs and cats and fish in the mix. I remember Nana and Papa always being honest with us kids about God, money and big family decisions. They didn’t hide things from us or sugarcoat answers. And they didn’t hide how much they loved each other either. My dad, your Papa, would write scribbled, barely legible, post-it notes for Nana, and leave it on her car just to say I love you.  And your Nana would plan and prepare meals and activities for us four kids, so that they could get away just the two of them for a few nights. Something I never realized was probably essential to their healthy marriage.

Your daddy and I are still learning how to do this; how to have the kind of marriage that endures for 30 or 40 years. But I hope you see how your daddy adores me. How he kisses me on the lips before he leaves for the day and how he reaches across the car to grab my hand and say “Yo te amo, Michelle.” How he gets gas in my car and fixes the shower when there’s no hot water and never complains when I ask him to pick up something from the tienda.

And I hope you see how much I love him, too.

Mija, there is a verse in 1 John that says something about you will know they are my disciples by how they love each other. And your daddy and I believe this with our whole heart. We want you to see God in us and in our marriage. We want you to see how much we love each other by how we treat one another and talk about the other person even when they’re not there.

So it may mean we leave you for a weekend with friends so we can have a few nights away. Or it may mean we take time as a family to rest and play and remember how to love each other well when we get tired, grouchy and short-tempered. And it will most definitely mean that we’ll need lots of grace as we figure out how to be parents to you and keep loving and serving one another well.

My prayer is that one day you’ll see a picture like this from our wedding day and say, “oh, the best gift my parents gave me was that they loved each other well.”

Mija, we can’t wait to meet you and be your parents.

Love,

Mama

(Mija is a Spanish word that literally means “my daughter.” It’s actually written “mi hija.” But when said quickly together it sounds like “mija” and it is said with endearment, kind of like sweetie or sweetheart in English. Female teachers often use it with little girl students. Mijo being the equivalent for little boys. It happens to be one of my favorite Spanish words.)

This is the second letter in a series of letters to my future daughter. The first can be read here.

Last week G and I celebrated our 1st wedding anniversary. And I would say it has taken us a good year to understand this simple math equation: 1 + 1 = 2

one of him + one of me = two. That’s TWO people.

You know Christian culture does this funny thing where we talk about and quote the verse at most weddings “and the two shall become one.” But we rarely talk about what does this really mean? Like in practical, day-to-day, life? Because last time I checked there were definitely TWO people who had opinions, TWO people who used dishes, and TWO people who wake up at different times.

So, I’m not sure if I buy this 1 + 1 = 1 stuff. Sometimes I wonder if we have oversimplified this concept and mistaken what it actually means.  Now, before you think I’ve gotten on some heretical bandwagon let me explain.

When we got married I believed that we would become one. You know, share one bank account, one home, one life. And we do most of these things happily, usually. But somehow I believed that being “one” also meant that everything would be “better together.”  I mean that is what Jack Johnson sings, right?

Dinner always together. Morning runs together. Working together. Cooking in the kitchen together. Waking up every morning together.

Imagine my surprise when I realized sometimes we’re not home at the same time for dinner. Or that He prefers to run in the afternoon. Working together brought more initial challenges then sweet, together moments and when our kitchen has only one itty-bitty counter space having two people in there is just plain frustrating.

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Usually Sunday mornings go something like this:

G wakes up. And wakes up hungry. I’d think he’d like it we had a fridge in the bedroom. He cuddles, tries to kiss me and coax me to get up. I moan, roll over, put a pillow over my eyes and fall back asleep. He gets OJ and goes to watch TV. His stomach still churning. 20 minutes later I mope around the house, hair a mess, barely verbal. He says, he’s ready to go. I say give me 10 minutes. I throw on some yoga clothes, hair in a pony tail, check email and apply mascara. He goes outside to wait by the bike. 20 minutes later we leave. He’s starving now and frustrated that I took so long. I’m hurt that he didn’t want to wait for me. I mean why is getting breakfast more important than waiting for me? {I’m not dramatic or anything.}

you can imagine, once we get to our favorite breakfast place neither one of us are in a good mood.

This routine has happened more times than I’d like to admit.

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I read Elizabeth Gilbert’s book, Committed a year ago, actually on our honeymoon. I should give her proper credit for the 1 + 1 =2 idea. She and her then fiance are in the midst of a visa/marriage nightmare; living in limbo, waiting for word from the US Department of Homeland Security for clearance for her fiance. And in the process they are figuring out how to do life together. Somehow the story and the possible fear hit close to home, but it’s taken me a while to fully understand and figure out what does 1 + 1 = 2 look like for us.

It’s meant some letting go, and remembering who I am/was before I got married. And learning that loving and living with this man, does not in fact mean we have to do everything together.

This Sunday morning we did it well.

G got up early, kissed me good-morning, let the dog out and took his motorcycle to Antigua for breakfast. He got food and coffee all before I even opened my eyes.

I got to sleep in till 10. Yes, no shame in the fact that I love, LOVE sleeping in. I got to stay in my pajamas, drink my smoothie and peruse pinterest without having to hurry.

And you know what he came home happy and full. And I was rested and relaxed.

Maybe sometimes the best way to love someone else and take care of yourself is to create some space.

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I do in fact believe that something unique and special can happen in marriage. However, I’m not sure if it’s some supernatural oneness. For me the unity in marriage comes from wanting someone else’s best. Sometimes I feel most “together” when I know that I have put his needs above my own. And I think he would agree. Maybe what we’re learning is that “better together” can also means wanting someone else’s best whether or not you’re actually together.

And if his best means I don’t make him wait for me to go to breakfast, I don’t what can be more unifying than that.

If you’re married, have you and your spouse worked out a good way to give each other space? What things to do you do apart and what things together? Do you feel like the idea of 1 + 1 = 2 just makes more sense sometimes? Do share.

Yesterday was Gerber’s birthday and he was gone the whole day and the whole night….working.

He had already committed to start building water filters with a new community in the southern part of Guatemala and he had four eager volunteers waiting to go. So at 7:00am he left with his truck bed piled high, four guys seated in the cab and our Guatemalan technical nestled in the back between shovels, sifters and a wheelbarrow. I did at least send him off with a birthday smoothie.

Antigua has relatively mild temperature year around– and yesterday was one of those perfect, mild-75-and-sunny-with-a-slight-breeze-and-volcanic-views, kind of days. Where they drove to is almost always HOT and HUMID. Temperatures hover around 90-100 degrees. And when you add in the humidity and some manual labor, it’s a recipe for constant sweat dripping down places you didn’t know could sweat. This is where he went to spend his birthday, my brown skinned, dark haired boy who complains when I ask for a table in the sun!?!

I talked to him last night on the phone and he seemed happy. The kind of happy that comes from somewhere deep within, because you’ve spent the day doing something you love– working with Guatemalan families, sweating and laughing and lifting. Watching kids still too young to attend school help wash sand and carry shovels three times too big for them. Helping teenage boys from the states learn how to mix cement and take a shower without running water. Attending the evening service at the local church and wondering why with so little resources they are so welcoming and sometimes our big, fancy churches with entire committees dedicated for “welcoming” don’t feel that way. I know there is something he loves about setting up tents and mosquito nets and working hard and being thankful.

One of the reasons why I love this man so much is that he is passionate. He is passionate about helping people get access to clean drinking water. He enjoys serving others, and maybe even more so, teaching others. He has vision, ideas and goals and he’ll even give up a birthday so he can be a part of making these things happen.  His passion and direction make me proud and excited, but also, they give me a sense of security. I know that the same passion he feels about bringing clean water to communities, he also feels about me and about being a dad one day. And I know that he’s the kind of man who will sacrifice a birthday, or his own plans or needs to take care of something or someone that he is passionate about.

 {a little dating advice if I may: I think having a spouse who is passionate about something is one of the most attractive things. And when what they are passionate about happens to align with what you are passionate about I think you have a pretty good match. }

I love this man because he would rather work on his birthday doing something he loves, than be celebrated and taken out to dinner*

Happy Birthday, mi amor! Te amo.

*I did make a little dessert last night in his honor and tasted it to make sure it was fit for a little belated birthday celebrating.

Thanks to Beyonce for making this phrase popular and oh-so-catchy. But, I know what you’re thinking. Michelle, you’re not single anymore.  

Somehow it seems that once someone “crosses over” to this other world called marriage you lose the right to speak about awkward first dates, lonely nights at home or being single.  However, in my defense I have spent more of my adult life single than married so I think I have something worth saying. I remember well- very well- what it feels like to be single. So, single ladies- here me out.

I have been married all of 3 months. Just enough months to realize that marriage is wonderful in so many ways, but it takes work. A different kind of work than other relationships. And in these 3 months I have also realized that marriage is no replacement for female friendships. (some of you are saying, duh, obviously not)  I have listened to married friends and mentors and wise women three times my age always tell me this–

but maybe it’s like most things in life, you don’t always believe it until you’re in it.

Since being married I have probabaly enjoyed my female friendships just as much if not more than ever-- a 2 hour skype sesh with one of best friends in California. The kind where the topics change quickly, interspersed with laughter and “wait, wait, do you remember when____?”  A long email exchange from a friend who is honest about where she’s at so it gives me permission to do the same. And an afternoon walk with a friend here where you lose count of how many times you passed by the same street because the conversation is that good.

I have learned these are the kind of relationships that are so important. And I think all too often dating couples, newly engaged and recently married people forget this. Or when we’re single we think– well, I’ll hang out with these girls for now, but once I’m married my husband will fill this role. wrong.

It think it’s safe to say your husband or your future husband will never, ever be one of your girlfriends. It doesn’t matter how caring or thoughtful he is, he will probably never want to sit in on the couch in his pjs and gush about how great that movie was or discuss what color nail polish you should paint your toes. In fact I’d bet money on it.

I sometimes wonder if we place too many expectations on this one person- in this case one man. One person cannot be your best friend, your sole supporter, your lover, your counselor, your partner, your advice-giver, your empathizer, etc. It’s just not possible people.  And I don’t really think it’s healthy either. Don’t get me wrong G is a wonderful husband and we’re enjoying figuring out marriage together, but I think he would agree with me. He can’t and doesn’t want to be all these things for me. In fact he knows, as do I, that I am a better version of myself when I have time with girlfriends.

I mean there are some things that only a girlfriend is going to get. And it doesn’t matter if you’re single or married, divorced or dating. Something about having those female friends who have experienced similar stories of cramps, uncomfortable gyno appointments, hilarious waxing stories and painful birthing stories. Those female friends who know you and your heart and have seen you at your best and at your worst and can tell you when you need to change. Those are the kind of women you want to keep in your life- it doesn’t matter what you’re marital status is.

Do you agree? Married Ladies? Single Ladies?

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

I am so thankful to be drinking homemade coffee, eating homemade cinnamon rolls, sitting at my desk, surrounded by the pieces of life that make up a home. There are dishes in the sink, empty boxes on the floor and receipts scattered on the table. But…

i  am  h.o.m.e.

{and it feels so, so good}

After spending the past month living out of a backpack and the previous two months living in a swirl of graduations and good-byes and wedding planning and preparations, it feels wonderful to be settling into life. here. together.

We’re are learning how to make a home, figuring out new routines and ways of doing things. buying groceries. merging bank accounts. arguing about little things. agreeing on most of the big things. and re-discovering the fine art of compromising often and communicating well.

There will always be part of me that misses parts of life in California. I may never like the hellos and goodbyes that are inevitable when a country separates me from family and friends. And the transition of coming and going will probably always be hard. But the truth is I feel at home here.  I feel at home with him.

I think a house becomes a home when it is filled with gratitude and contentment. And I for one, feel very grateful and quite content. I believe this is where we’re going to build our home and our life. At least for now.

Here’s to 2012. And finding home. May your house be filled with gratitude and contentment in the year ahead.

P.S. I will post pictures of our new humble abode once we do a little cleaning : )