Marriage Moats-Snowman
Published: Sun, 06/26/11
| Marriage Moats | Caring for Marriage |
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Some things are temporary. Like this snowman.
I could mope about it, and yet I notice that my children do not. They know that the fun is in the making, and if it melts by next Tuesday, that's okay.
"Don't bother building one. It won't last." I can't recall ever hearing that lament from a five year old.
Probably fifty percent of the contents of our kitchen were not there a
year ago. The dishes and pans stick around, but all the inhabitants of
the cupboards, pantry and fridge are renewable. That keeps it fresh.
It is a paradox, really. Marriage is about permanence, and about transformation too. Which parts fall away? Which ones endure?
John and I have stayed in suburban homes, cockroach infested apartments, cabins in the woods, lavish hotels, and the occasional tent. We have traveled across the country a dozen times, by jet, U Haul and deathwatch vehicles. Our home has been filled with laughter, screaming, anger, compassion, silence and vengeance. John has spent time safely nestled in a secure job, unemployed and as a temp working for minimum wage. The circumstances change faster than my bank statement, yet at the center is a constant. Us.
It could be argued that I am not the same person I was when we walked down the aisle. Biologists assure me that my cells have all been replaced. Certainly my hair is a different shade, and my taste in clothes has morphed since the eighties. How does that work? Two people marry each other's Version 1, hoping that updates will still be recognizable.
I like sitting where I am, where I can recall the terrific and troubled times and see how they all contribute to the legacy of our marriage. I would not ask God to edit out the painful ones. Does that surprise you? It surprises me. I certainly would not have predicted it when I was fidgeting in the hospital, or the police station, or on the side of the road in the rain with five children while John helped the tow truck driver hook up the broken car. If someone had tried to helpfully reassure me that I would one day be thankful for this episode I might have spit in their face. John and I have changed, while staying the same. Our covenant is not going away, even when health, money or children do.
We are two characters in a wildly unpredictable play, with shifting scenery, props and supporting cast. But in all of those scenes, we face life side by melting side.
Photo by Chara Odhner
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