Having accepted the position of costumer for the high school play, the script has been on my mind for four months. I read and reread the lines, dug through the storage closet, wandered around in fabric stores, and looked on Pinterest. Yet the path between eagerness and implementation was sketchy. 

Then it was time to do something. Anything. I pulled potential outfits for the animals. Some were ready made from past shows. Yet the director kept referring to "the human element". It was not just carbon copies of the residents of the zoo we needed. Beavers that were protectors of the innocent. A lion that embodied Christlike endurance. Wood nymphs that entangled mischievousness and charm. 

I followed his lead without always understanding. Which seems appropriate in retrospect, as the mammals are collectively called Followers of Aslan. He asked for strings of lights to be sewn on leotard sleeves. I believed him and threaded my needle. He shook his head at flowers on the nymphs and asked for more foliage. 

Then at the dress rehearsal I saw it. The whole, that was both comprised of and greater than its parts. Narnia came to life.

One of the workshop offerings at the Marriage Conference this coming February is based on the notion that we don't know what our marriage even means when we are doing a stumble through. That is the name another director gave for the awkward efforts before opening night. The pieces feel disjointed. Sure, I made supper and John stayed up late finishing a sermon. But what does that have to do with partnership? We weren't even in the same place.

The presenter will be speaking from the wonder she has come to feel of late. As if the seemingly random aspects of her forty year marriage actually create something beautiful. As if following got her somewhere she couldn't have discovered on her own.