On Nostalgia, Closing Chapters and Cold Feet

This was originally posted on my personal blog, but I thought it would be fitting here.

In two weeks, I'll be moving. Kelly and I were recently approved for an apartment in the Ann Arbor area, about an hour southwest of where I live now, and I'll be moving in on March 5. She'll move her stuff all over the week before the wedding and then move in, obviously, following the nuptials.

I hate moving. It's so much work, packing up everything, throwing out what you don't need anymore, living your stuff in boxes as you get ready to head out. I usually put it off as long as possible. But today I accidentally slept in and could not make it to church. Kelly is out of town with some friends for the weekend. And I have a 3-day weekend due to the President's Day holiday tomorrow. So I decided it might be prudent to head upstairs today and begin sorting through all the items in my attic, deciding what was going to be donated, what was going to be thrown out and what will make the move with me as I prepare to start my new life with Kelly.

It was definitely the chore I feared it would be, complicated by the fact that I was bumping my head on the low ceiling every five minutes. But by the end of nearly three hours, I had boxed and bags the clothes, books and DVDs I'm donating, tossed the bags of junk out to the curb and had all the other clothes/games/etc. in boxes ready for taping and labeling.

While I was up there, I came across a box of old journals, stretching back from my teenage years up through my adult days. I found cards from family members given as far back as college graduation in 2001. I found cards and letters from friends who were as close as anyone has ever been, yet I never see anymore. I found old photo albums chronicling everything from my high school graduation party to the trip to Florida for my brother's wedding and trips with old friends to Chicago.

And in that moment, I felt myself overcome by a bittersweet wave.

It's really happening. As of March 25, my single years will be behind me. To be honest, so many of those dear friends have fallen out of contact (often due to my fault) over the last 10 years. I miss them. As often as I spent my single years wishing I would find someone, fall in love and get married, I still found myself feeling a bit melancholy and mourning those days. Not in a regretful way, mind you, but more in the way that you mourn the way any chapter of life closes. The feeling that many people had when they left high school or college.

I've written before about how people who marry in their 30s have a different reality to deal with than those who marry in their early 20s. I have 12 years of adulthood behind me. I have traditions and routines that are going to change. I have an entire lifestyle of bachelorhood that will be altered. And while there are many, many things that I'm looking forward to giving up about the single life (lonely nights at home, living in squalor, eating meals from a bag), I have to also admit that my single years--however lonely and hard they may have been at times--were good years.

As I look back on my single life, I can see that there were nights of tears, frustration, loneliness and bitterness. I'm glad to be done with much of that, even though I know those same struggles will just have new clothing in married life. But I can also say that those years were some of the best and most fruitful of my life. I remember late nights at the coffee shop discussion culture and theology. Having friends to depend on when life around us got tough. I remember getting together and laughing with many friends who I no longer speak with, having a roommate who was one of the best friends I'd ever had and having another best friend who was one of the anchors of my life for so long. Getting married doesn't mean these things no longer have meaning, it doesn't negate the memories nor does it mean that I can't see these people once I'm married. But the impending change simply means that I'm reflecting back on the years and mourning what once was.

I'm growing up. Flipping the page. Changing the chapter. And with that come strong feelings.

People sometimes ask me if I ever have cold feet about marriage. And the standard answer is that "no, I'm excited about getting married. It's time." And that's true. I don't have the "bolt from the altar" cold feet. I'm not wondering if I've made the right decision. I'm not wondering if marriage is right for me.

But yes, cold feet happen. Sometimes, as Kelly and I both put it, the gravity of what's about to happen really sets in. And both of us--who are two very independent people and very accustomed to single life and routines--have our moments where we feel a bit shaken by the immensity of the decision that we've made.

Some of these are no-brainers. Yes, I worry about being the leader of the home. I've made so many mistakes in my own life--particularly financially--that I wonder if I'll just shipwreck everything. I worry about Kelly staying in love with me and whether she'll be happy in our home. I'm terrified about the prospect of having children.

And then there are the worries that I wonder if any other engaged person thinks about. I wonder how I'm going to react when my routine changes and I no longer have entire Saturdays to spend by myself, in solitude. I wonder if I'm still going to be able to hang out with my friends. I wonder if the dreams I have of writing and getting more involved in the things I'm passionate about will have to take a back seat to surviving and working long days to make ends meet. I worry about how I'm going to react when I've had a long day at work, followed by a hectic drive home and I just want to be by myself--will I have those moments of quiet and introspection? Will we find a church that meets both of our needs? Can I still watch Will Ferrell movies?

This second set of fears are what I call my "Oh Chris, grow up" fears. This is where my selfishness and pride start taking hold and saying "remember how good it feels to be lazy and just lay on the couch eating pizza and watching 'Step Brothers' every Saturday? You don't want to give that up, do you?" I've written before how engagement has really forced me to look at myself and better understand how deeply ingrained my selfish tendencies are. And I see my fear of growing up, my fear of losing my right to do what I want to do when I want to do it and my desire to be lord of my life really digging in. I forget, of course, that when I actually do get time to myself I'm usually antsy and bored; it actually is hard for me to sit and watch movies for three straight days. And, of course, there's the practical truth that getting married doesn't mean the end of my individuality. Kelly and I will still have our own interests and hobbies. Some of these we'll share together. Other times, we'll keep them for ourselves. Marriage doesn't change what we're interested in--it simply forces us to figure out how those things work when in the light of relationship.

None of this is a surprise to either of us. Kelly and I have spent quite a bit of time talking out the change our life is about to take and this has been a particularly important topic for us to deal with as two very independent people. Just the other night we were talking and I asked her if she ever got worried about marriage. Her response really impressed me, because it was exactly what I had been thinking. "I'd be worried about anybody who doesn't have these fears; it shows that they're not aware how serious this is."

I take a lot of comfort in the fact that Kelly and I have counted the cost of marriage. We don't have any illusions about it being pain or trouble free. We know we'll fight. We know we'll get annoyed with each other. We know that sometimes the 'in love' feeling will be hard to find. I hope that knowledge has made us better prepared to take our marriage before God and depend on His strength to get through.

Besides, I noticed something about the times I have these fears. They come up when I'm by myself, alone at my house with my thoughts, letting my imagination run wild. They never happen when Kelly is around. And it's because in those moments, I feel at home. I feel safe. I feel more comfortable, happy and sure of myself than I ever have and there's no doubt that, no matter what I give up, what I want more than anything is to be with this person for the rest of my life.

That warms the feet right up.

Why I need a Wife

Yes, it's been awhile since I've posted. Obviously, the holidays threw a wrench in my blogging schedule, and I was out of town for a bit at the beginning of December. With the wedding just a little over two months away, though, I hope to keep updating this a little bit more.

One thing I've noticed, though, is that this blog goes in a different direction than I thought it would. Originally, it was just supposed to be a fun musing from the groom's perspective on wedding thoughts, and commentary on how the whole wedding industry is just absurd (and it is). But as I've thought more about becoming a husband, I've found that my thoughts tend more to the theological and internal on the subject--less about the wedding and more about the marriage itself. Which is as it should be. So that will probably be the shape of posts to come in the coming weeks. Enjoy!

A comment that Kelly makes quite often is "Chris, you need a wife."

This is usually said when we're looking at the dishes piled up in my sink, discussing why ramen noodles and pizza don't constitute a healthy diet or when I'm trying to defend my decision to wear the same tennis shoes and worn-out sweatshirt each weekend.

It's said with a good chuckle and playfullness, but there's truth to the statement.The fact is, that many things about my life were in disarray when I met Kelly. I ate poorly, exercised rarely and dressed like a perpetual frat boy--although my hair and glasses said "preppy dork." Since Kelly's come into my life, I've started eating better. I've gone down two pant sizes. The big, nerdy glasses have been replaced by smaller, sleeker specs. I wear clothes that fit and look nice and I've learned just how nice my hair can look when I apply some gel. Also, my house is much cleaner than it has ever been.

It's easy to make a joke and say this is all the result of nagging, but it's really not. None of these changes have been made begrudgingly. In fact, for the first time in ages I'm proud of how I look--I like that I'm starting to slim down, I dig how my hair looks and for the first time I think I dress with some sense of style. I never would have thought to make these changes without someone who lovingly told me that I needed to make them.

Love tends to make us better people. And at first, it's just a sense of wanting to impress another. When I first met Kelly and knew I liked her I spoke less sarcastically and with a bit more finesse, trying to make sure I said things that were intriguing, edifying and interesting (of course now she's learned that I can go on for 15 minutes about absolutely nothing). As the relationship progressed, much of the improvement came from knowing I had to grow up if I wanted to take care of her. I started being more financially responsible, started scheduling things more intently and started to be intentional about becoming the man I was supposed to be.

But there's a new phase of change in a relationship that comes only when you've made the commitment to be open, honest and encouraging with each other. When you hit that point where you know you're in this for life, you suddenly realize that your significant other acts as a mirror--not in the sense that they parrot your actions, but in the sense that they reflect you back to yourself.

Yes, this can be as shallow and insignificant as showing you that you really do need to dress, eat and clean better. And I'm thankful for that.

But I'm even more thankful for the mirror to my soul that Kelly has provided.

When you reach the point where you can be yourself around another person, you get an up-close look at just what yourself looks like. With our guards down around each other, Kelly and I act naturally, without pretense and without having to really do much in the way of putting on a face with each other. And as we do that, we see ourselves.

Sometimes, this has resulted in boosts in my confidence. I've been surprised, at times, at how I've been able to be the 'calm one' when Kelly needs me to, how I've been able to be strong and reassuring and how I've found myself remaining in check when I would otherwise be a mess of stress. Sometimes Kelly has needed strength, decisiveness or just stability from me and I've been surprised at the way God has provided the strength to meet those needs--I never would have had the opportunity without Kelly.

But I also see my sin reflected back to me. I see it in the way that my mind will initially ask what a problem "has to do with me." I see it in my impatience and pride when I try to solve Kelly's problems when all she wants is a kind ear. I see it in the way I am naturally a more mean-spirited and less forgiving person than she is. And I see it in the selfishness that so often comes out of me.

I still talk to single friends who can't wait to break out of that phase of their life. And there's a part of me that tells them 'be careful what you ask for.' Not because getting married isn't exciting--but because it really challenges you to change much of who you are.

As we navigate the single life, there comes a point where we can stop and think that we're doing pretty well. We've got life figured out. We're moving along smoothly, making the right decisions and seem to be doing this thing called life without any problems.

It's at that time, you may need someone else to come and shake you up.

None of us have life figured out and all of us have sins that we cling to because they're so naturally a part of ourselves. When we think we're doing pretty well it's because we're often blind to our sin, with no one to reveal it. It's at that point that self righteousness and pride can begin setting in.

How thankful I am for a God who wants me to change and conform to His image. And how blessed I am to realize that He's chosen to reveal my sin through a person who loves me and is honest with me. And how great that we see our strengths the same way!

--CW

Who's Wedding Is It Anyway?

Shortly before I proposed to Kelly, we had begun talking about weddings. We both had the feeling that this relationship was inevitably going in that direction and, as such, were "engaged-to-be-engaged" for a good month or so before I actually picked up the ring.

When we initially talked about the Big Day, we didn't get into many specifics. Kelly isn't one who has been planning her wedding since childhood (that's one of the things I love about her) and my experience from weddings comes from television and the movies, which means it usually involves a daffy priest and accommodations for a last-minute dash to the altar. But one thing we had talked about pretty early on was that, as we are both low-key, private individuals, we'd like to have a small wedding.

The wedding is in a little over four months. About 200 people will be there. The reception's going to take place at a castle.

I say that not as a complaint. Kelly didn't suddenly turn into a Bridezilla who wanted a super wedding and I'm not upset at all that our wedding dinner is going to be surrounded by tapestries and suits of armor; I think it's kind of cool, actually.

The real reason for the big wedding is this realization: we have to invite people.

I understand that our wedding day is a day to plan as we wish. It's not our job to entertain people or give them a good show. As she's prepared for the wedding, I've encouraged Kelly to remember that she can use the phrase "this day is all about me" and to remind everyone involved that they are her "help" for the next four months. It's our wedding; not their party. As the groom, I want Kelly to have the most beautiful wedding possible. So, in essence, in my way of thinking, this day is her day and it's all about her.

But we have to invite people. I know this, because I've double-checked.

The truth is, Kelly and I would probably be just as happy and satisfied delivering our vows in front of a pastor in a small chapel, or even in a courtroom. As fun as it is to book a DJ and think about flowers, music, food and all the fun things a wedding brings, we both realize that the marriage is more important than the wedding.

But guests demand entertainment. And, like Russell Crowe, I plan to be pacing the floor at the end of the evening demanding "are you not entertained?"

Tongue is fully in cheek, of course. The true reason for the wedding growing to the size it has is simply because there are so many people that Kelly and I cannot even dream of leaving out of this celebration. We both recognize that large parts of who we are are due to the people who've been involved in our lives. We've been shaped by churches we've attended, the jobs we've held, the friends we've laughed with and the family we've grown up in. There are people I haven't seen in years who I hope show up at our wedding because, although we've grown apart, so much of my life was shaped by the relationship we had.

We're having a good sized wedding because we've been blessed to be surrounded by great people throughout our lives. If a wedding is to be a celebration of the lives Kelly and I have had before meeting each other, it would be incomplete to celebrate without so many of those people. And so the list grows, the entertainment is booked, the food is cooked because this is an event that Kelly and I want to enjoy with our closest friends and family.

Obviously, the involvement of so many people can pose headaches. There are social expectations people have of weddings that I still don't understand. And yes, there are people who will be on the guest list who Kelly and I don't even really know, but have squeaked in under the "friend of the family" loophole. I don't understand all the social politics over weddings. I don't understand why people can hold grudges about being invited or not invited--we once knew someone who held a year-long grudge because she didn't get a thank you note. As with any event that gathers people together, there are headaches and complications. And I'm sure that will be the topic of a blog in the future :-)

But for right now, I want to focus on why I'm happy and excited to be having a big wedding.

I know there are some people who feel it's wrong to have a large wedding (and, to be fair, our wedding is not going to be huge: it's a good size). They feel it's egotistical, greedy and more focused on the event than the marriage itself. They feel it loses place of the solemnity of the event and its intimacy.

And sure, all those things are possible, although I would also argue that they could equally occur in a small wedding.

But as I was taking a walk tonight, I reflected on why I think a large wedding is a good thing.

Marriage is a drama of God's love for the Church. I'm learning more and more about what that means as I prepare for the wedding. There is a depth and gravity towards the commitment Kelly and I are making to each other before God that I'm sure will be the focus of several blog entries. I feel like I'm just scratching the surface of what this all means and what the responsibility is before me as a husband--I'm sure the rest of my life will be spent getting a closer look at that.

But one thing I thought about was how God has the Church live this out. He doesn't call for His followers to go into hiding, isolate themselves from the rest of the world and adopt a monastic lifestyle.

Rather, Christ puts the Church out there in the world so that His followers can live out this relationship in full view of everyone. He puts it on display, inviting the world to watch and see how great He is. He wants His bride to be seen as a beautiful and radiant, and for the world to be jealous for her. He wants to be seen as a loving, committed groom so that others will want to be part of that relationship. He puts this relationship front and center and invites the whole world to watch.

A wedding is a dramatization--an imperfect one, to be sure--of what God is doing with the Church. Kelly and I come together not just so people can see how beautiful she is in her dress or so other people can have some good food. People come together to see our love in action, to see us committing to one another. And also, in that moment, we have the opportunity to point people past ourselves to the God who brought us together and who--in Heaven--is our true Husband.

At our wedding, there will be believers and non-believers. And one thing Kelly and I have been adamant about from the start of our wedding preparations is that our ceremony glorify God and be conducted with a worshipful, God-honoring heart. We want people to see that we have a love rooted in the Gospel and that our commitment to each other is only possible because of a God who strengthens and encourages us. We want people to realize that we are not just committing to each other, but are committing ourselves to God to honor Him with our marriage, our family and our future. We want the world to see that because we want them to see how beautiful and wonderful Christ is as well.

And for that, I'd invite the whole world.

But I hope you understand that I can't. You know; because of the castle and everything.

---CW

The Three Words

It's funny how three words can become the theme for a relationship.

Obviously, the most notorious--and important--three words between two people are "I love you." I wouldn't be getting married to Kelly had we not said those words to each other and were able to back them up with our actions and commitment to each other. As someone who second-guesses everything and is always waiting for the other shoe to drop, hearing Kelly say "I love you" back to me for the first time was one of the most meaningful phrases I've ever heard. When we fight and are at our wits' end with each other, "I love you" is the phrase that keeps us going and remembering why we put up with each others' flaws and failures. And "I love you" is the reminder as to why we're spending so much of our time and money preparing a wedding and a life together.

"I love you" is a hard phrase to say, particularly the first time you say it to another person. I knew I was in love with Kelly about a week before I ever told her. I had worried about it and thought it over for a whole week before venturing to say the words to her--wondering if I should just end the entire affair to avoid the eventual heartbreak I'd receive or if I should just bite the bullet and tell her how I felt.

In the long run, I don't know if telling Kelly that I loved her just shy of three months into our relationship was the best thing to do--we were both new at this and, although we both were feeling strong emotions and knew we wanted to continue on wherever this was taking us, I think we'd both admit now that that early in the relationship we probably weren't really in love as much as we were strongly "in like" with each other. Through God's grace, we were able to stick with the relationship and learn just how much deeper love went than we were at and it's our love for each other that has helped us be patient when we're at our worst with each other.

"I love you" has been a strong backbone for our relationship. Saying it and having it said back to me was the one of the most freeing things in my life. It meant someone accepted me and was committed to doing life with me. I try not to ever be flippant when I tell Kelly I love her and I try to make sure I say it even when it sounds weird and just bubbles out of me. They are three very good words to say and have said back to you.

But as Kelly and I prepare for marriage and look to leave our lives as singles behind, I'm learning that there are three other words that are starting to define much of my life.

"I don't know."

I've remarked quite a bit about just how the gravity of knowing marriage is imminent is affecting me. While I may not be the biggest success in the world, I do have to admit that I think I've become quite accustomed to life as a single man and I've learned how to navigate it fairly well. I have a set routine for when I clean the house, go grocery shopping, take out the trash and pay my bills. If something goes wrong, I know how to solve the problem. If a decision needs to be made, I know how to make that decision and prepare for its impact on my life because, as a single man, I'm the only one impacted by it. I've grown nestled and comfortable with this single life and, while I'm ready to give it up, the truth is that there is a bit of fear in relinquishing what has become so comfortable and second nature to me.

As I prepare for marriage in less than five months (!), I realize I'm standing on the threshold of a life that is going to be utterly foreign to me in many regards. I'm moving about an hour away from family and friends, which means it will just be Kelly and myself out there. When I come home from work, I'm not going to be coming home to an empty house with just my dog waiting for me. What's that going to be like on a hard day when I just don't want to talk to anyone?

As Kelly and I have talked honestly about our hopes and fears regarding marriage, I'm learning "I don't know" is becoming a pretty common answer.

The Bible says Kelly is to submit to me as her husband. And yet a part of our relationship that is so key is her uniqueness and individuality. What does it look like for me to be the leader of the home and yet for her to still have her autonomy and uniqueness? How do we help each other grow in Christ, yet in a capacity where I'm meeting her spiritual needs yet she's still teaching me and helping me grow? At what point do we compromise and at what point do I have to be a decision maker?

I don't know.

Kelly and I are both working professionals. How are we going to balance both of our jobs with keeping a house clean, putting food on a table and how are we going to divide up chores?

I don't know.

What's going to happen on those days or nights when one of us is so stressed out with work, school or family issues that we want to be alone with our thoughts? How do we balance that need for seclusion without shutting each other out and still meeting the needs the other may have for companionship in those moments?

I don't know.

What is this marriage going to look like? How are our schedules going to change? What's it going to be like to go from seeing each other on the weekends and once during the week to seeing each other ever day, sleeping next to each other, seeing the other one first thing in the morning when we smell bad and look our worst? How's Kelly going to react to my snoring? How am I going to react to whatever weird habit she may bring with her into this marriage? Will we watch Conan or The Daily Show before bed? How do we know when and if it's time for us to start thinking about kids?

I can understand why some guys panic when they start thinking about marriage. As men, we're supposed to have answers and be ready with plans. And while I know the majority of those questions above are silly or that there are practical answers that will figure themselves out as we move closer to marriage, the truth is that there's still a humility in saying "I don't know."

But to be honest, there's an excitement about it to.

The monotony of the single life is getting old. Right now, there's too much "I know" going on in my life. I know what a typical night at home holds for me. I know what my bills look like, when I should head to bed and what, exactly, I'm going to leave the grocery store with. I've been doign this a bit too long and, to be honest, I'm getting sick of just having myself for company.

But as I stand here, less than five months away from marriage, I feel not like a man overwhelmed by the unpredictable but like one embarking on an adventure. I'm excited. I don't know what the future is going to hold for Kelly and I or exactly how marriage is going to work or what it's going to look like. But while "I Don't Know" will be a common answer for awhile, "I love you" will be the fuel that sustains us was we learn those answers.

And more importantly, are three other words: "God knows all." We're not embarking on this adventure alone, but entwined with our Savior who brought us together and is going to guide us as we head out on the journey.

--CW

Making the heart grow fonder...

This weekend, Kelly went away with some friends for a getaway. It was our first weekend where we didn't see each other in probably about a year, definitely since before last Thanksgiving.

I should be used to not seeing Kelly. After all, we live 90 minutes away. We only really see each other once during the week and then again on the weekends--there are often 3-4 day periods where we don't see each other and sometimes, if one of us has a busy stretch of week days ahead, we'll go Sunday night-Saturday afternoon without seeing each other.

And to be honest, there was a small part of me looking forward to a quiet weekend alone. I'd come to the point at work where I knew I could use a long weekend, so I requested last Friday off. I figured three days to myself would allow me to catch up on some things around the house, run some errands, watch a stack of movie rentals I'd been neglecting and recharge my batteries to hit the ground running at the office on Monday morning.

And don't get me wrong: this weekend was extremely relaxing. I got the license tabs renewed on my car. I did some grocery shopping and cleaned my house. Caught up on my laundry and mowed the lawn. Took several long walks and hit the gym. I went to the movies once and then came home to watch five more over the space of the weekend. I had a nice, big breakfast out this morning before church and spent the afternoon napping, walking, reading and catching up on my blogging.

But sometime was missing. Last night after finishing "Ghostbusters," I jumped on my Facebook and found myself drawn to Kelly's page. And I found myself browsing her photos and feeling a bit sad. I sat at church today realizing how lonely it felt to sit there--even among friends--without my arm around her. As I took a walk this afternoon I reflected on the fact that I hadn't had a good conversation all weekend. I also hadn't been able to do anything nice for someone. While the time alone was very relaxing and well-needed, the truth is it missed the richness that it has when I'm with Kelly that comes from good conversation or simply just being with another person who loves you and just loves being with you.

In singleness we ask ourselves the question "can I do it alone?" We wonder early on in adulthood whether we can face this world with all its responsibilities and challenges on our lonesome. Can we endure the days at work without knowing someone's waiting for us at home? Can we sit through weekends by ourselves without someone to talk to? Are we going to be able to feed ourselves, dress ourselves and pay our bills without another's help?

Of course, if you're single long enough you realize that yes, you can do it alone. I didn't burn the house down this weekend or poison myself. During my 10 years of single adulthood I dressed myself (however badly) and paid my own bills. Survival on our own is possible and if you're single long enough you might learn you're quite good at it.

But one question I've asked over and again since starting this relationship with Kelly is not "can I do this alone" but "do I want to"?

And yes, sometimes being in a relationship requires sacrifice and accommodation. I know it's not always convenient, affordable or easy for Kelly or myself to uproot ourselves every weekend and spend it with another person. I know that sometimes one of us just wants a quiet evening after work and doesn't want to spend an hour on the phone. And there are probably times when one of us just stops and thinks "you know, relationships complicate things. Maybe George Clooney had it right and I should empty this person out of my backpack so I can move a bit faster. Maybe it would be easier to survive if I just cut loose these entanglements and focused on work, school and paying bills."

But, as the captain in WALL-E said, I don't want to survive. I want to live.

The truth that I saw this weekend is that I'm so much better with Kelly. Yes, I could stop and survive and just spend my life alone watching movies, writing blogs and eating pizza. But it would be rote and routine. There would be nothing worth challenging, nothing worth savoring and nothing worth getting out of bed in the morning for.

Relationships are how we grow. One thing I'm learning every day is how God shows me more of His love and how He expects me to love others through the way I interact with Kelly. We've learned patience, kindness, listening and gentleness through our successes and failures in communication.

Relationships are how we love life. I'll tread lightly here because I know how hard it is for single men and women to read sometime, but the truth is that there's a richness to life when you find that special person. Kelly and I have spent several weekends doing nothing more than what I did this weekend--sitting on the couch watching movies and talking. Yet there's something so much meaningful in the banter we have, the playful looks we give or just the simple gesture of holding each other while we watch TV that makes those moments so much more meaningful.

Finally, relationships are how we learn to let go of ourselves. Oddly enough, one of the most selfish times in my life was my time as a single man. It was during that time that I could do anything I wanted, fended only for myself and had to answer only to me. Even my search for relationship was to cure my loneliness. The truth is that, in that, I made independence and self an idol, which has been my biggest challenge in preparing for marriage.

The truth is that the Bible doesn't speak very kindly about independence our living life the way we want. The Bible doesn't give any lip service to "me time." Instead, it calls us to a life of surrender and self-denial, to model the behavior of Christ that sent Him from Heaven to the cross to reconcile lost sinners to himself. It's that relationship--the picture of Christ and the Church--that is the entire basis of marriage.

If you want to be taught how to sacrifice yourself in a hurry, get in a relationship with someone. You'll find that you make accommodations to your time, care for them when they're sick, spend your money on them and learn to let go of some of your little pleasures and hobbies to make this thing work.

And it sounds daunting--but here's the secret: when you let go of it and find yourself growing and loving this person, you don't really dwell on how much you're sacrificing. It's a joy to care for them, to spend your time with them. It's your pleasure to get them tea when they're sick, even when all you can do at the end of the evening is give them a hug or kiss their forehead because they're so sick. In giving up your independence and learning to live for another person, you experience joy because you realize they're worth it. And then your realize that this is how much Christ loves us, and you get even more joy!

And I'd never have learned the things I'm learning about compassion, empathy, servanthood, love and sacrifice without having met Kelly. Whether she's intended or not, she's making me a better person. I'm doing things that, without God's help, I never would have done before. But because of this great relationship He's called me into, I'm growing in the relationship I have with Him.

And so I can't wait for Kelly to come home, so I can start over loving her again :-)

CW

Bookstores, Zombies and Independence

Ever since Kelly and I started dating, bookstores have been a staple of our relationship.

We're both book lovers who refuse to get Kindles. So it just makes sense that many of our dates have found us wandering used book stores or spending hours lost in Borders. When we meet up in Ann Arbor once a week, we usually meet at a Borders downtown and spend a few hours browsing before heading out for coffee or on a walk.

A few weeks back, we were out at a Barnes and Noble on a rainy Saturday, killing time before a movie. Walking down the aisles Kelly asked if she could take a break and look around on her own for a few minutes. I think I had to use the restroom (I usually do) so I had no problem wandering away, thinking nothing of it.

About 20 minutes later, out of the blue, Kelly made a confession. She likes walking around bookstores on her own, getting lost in the different offerings. Ever since we'd started dating, we'd basically looked at bookstores together, not leaving each other's sides. She felt that she had lost a bit of her identity in that, losing something that she loved doing. And she confessed that it was a fear she had of marriage--losing some of her independence and individuality.

I'll confess that until that moment I had no idea she felt that way about the bookstores. And in all honesty, had I known that, I would have made sure that when we went into one we took time to browse on our own before meeting back up. As much as I love looking at books and browsing DVDs and CDS with her, I love to get lost on my own just as much. And I assured her I would definitely keep that in mind on future outings.

But I'm glad she brought it up. Because the fear of losing individuality and independence once we're married is one I share as well.

I know it's not a unique fear, but I have a hunch it might be stronger among those who get married in their late 20s or early 30s.

As I've stated before, there is a huge difference between being single and 21 and single and 30.

And the issue of independence is one of those.

In your early 20s, you really haven't had much of a chance to build up your routines. You've probably spent four years in college surrounded by friends and chances are that your early twenties are simply spent surviving at a job, living paycheck to paycheck and going out on the weekends with friends. I'm not saying there aren't sacrifices to your independence that are made when you marry young, but there's less of an established routine and lifestyle at that age.

But by the time you hit 30, you've established who you are a bit more. You have passions, hobbies and outside interests. You have church groups, sports teams and other responsibilities you're involved in. You like certain movies, books or music. You have a set routine: home by 5, dinner by six, hit the gym and spend the evening writing or watching TV before going to bed at 11. On Saturdays I have a routine of waking up in the morning, having coffee while catching up with DVR'd television shows, napping in the afternoon and spending some time catching up on chores.

Getting married, you're bringing another person into that life. And they have their set routines and patterns. Where I might close the evening out with "The Daily Show" or "Conan," Kelly might choose to go to bed by 10:30 or read a book. Where I might be content to wake up and have an early coffee on Saturdays and then spend the afternoon on the couch watching DVDs, she might prefer to sleep in and spend the afternoon doing something active. I like zombie movies; she likes Jane Austen novels--and I've been informed "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" doesn't count.

The obvious truth is that marriage means we'll both have to acquiesce to another's routines and sacrifice a bit of our independence. It might mean I DVR "Daily Show" or that we alternate our Saturday routines. It might mean that when one of us wants to spend an evening alone in our thoughts but the other needs some affection and attention, we sacrifice our me-time to take care of the other person. I've always been told the first year of marriage is the hardest and I can predict that the simple task of changing your long-established routines and habits to live with another person might be one of the most difficult aspects.

And that's all to be expected and, to be honest, is part of the fun. I'm looking forward to learning to do life with Kelly. One upshot of us only really getting to be together on the weekends is that we've had opportunities to be together just doing life. And sometimes it's frustrating, hectic and stressful as we try to juggle her schoolwork, my family responsibilities and other things into that. And other times, such as this weekend, we have a relaxing time of going out on our own and then spending time together going shopping, cooking dinner and then cuddling on the couch with a movie. That's the fun stuff.

As willing as I am to sacrifice aspects of my independence for the much-greater experience of doing life with Kelly, I also have to admit that I don't want to lose my individuality.

Truth is, I like my zombie movies. I like being a film and television junkie. I like taking an hour or so on a weeknight to blog in solitude or a Friday every few weeks to hang out with my guy friends. Those are things that make me who I am. And when I'm married, I don't want to sacrifice those.

I don't want to enjoy them at the expense of loving Kelly, and I think that's where balance will be an important part of marriage. But I do still want to do the things I love and pursue the interests that I have. They're the things that make me me. And where I can share them with Kelly, I want to do that. But I also know there are certain points where Kelly won't want to share that experience or where it will simply stay my own (I'm fairly certain we won't be watching Dawn of the Dead together any time soon). And I want to know that she'll be okay with that, and that she'll want me to be able to enjoy those things because they were the things that made me who I am; the man who she wants to marry.

And I can safely say that's what I want of her.

I've grown up Baptist and have always had friends around me saying that they never wanted their wives to work. "When I'm married," they'd say, "my wife is going to stay home. Because that's her job."

My position has never been that way...and not just because I've been fairly certain that I wouldn't be in a situation to live on one income. I've always wanted my wife to do what she felt fulfilled doing. If she had a career that she loved and felt that she wanted to work and put her skills to use, I wanted her to do that. Because that is a part of her identity and what makes her the person I fell in love with. I don't want that to change. I want her to go out and do what God has equipped her for and to feel fulfilled at the end of the day. I want to hear stories about her work and her accomplishments, to pray with her after struggles and rejoice with her after on-the-job victories.

And in the same vein, I never want Kelly to lose the things that make her so unique. I never want the individual I fell in love with to disappear. I want her to have time to read Jane Austen novels. I want her to write and pursue the creative projects she loves. I want her to be able to take some time and go on a long walk by herself. Because I want her to come back and tell me the stories, tell me what she did and share those experiences with her.

This weekend, Kelly is going away with some college friends. It will be the first weekend we've been apart in close to a year. It's going to be a weird experience and I'm going to miss her terribly.

But at the same time, I'm happy that we have this weekend. For her, it gives her a chance to travel with friends she rarely sees. She's going to take a trip and come back with pictures, stories and a whole host of new experiences. I can't wait to hear those stories and sit with her over coffee and talk about them.

For me, it means I'll have to spend the weekend alone. And it would be easy to get depressed and feel lonely about that. But at the same time, I realize I'll probably do okay. I'll stack up the DVDs and pizza rolls and engage in a three-day movie marathon. Maybe I'll hang out with some friends. I'll catch up on my reading or writing. And I'll make use of the time to do things I enjoy and then I'll have stories to tell Kelly as well (mine won't be nearly as cool as hers, though). And then the next weekend we'll be back together, spending time together and enjoying each other's company.

I don't know how it's going to work balancing a necessary dependence on each other with a healthy dose of independence. I'm sure it will be tricky at times. I'm sure there will be times where one of us feels suffocated and needs to get out a bit. I'm sure there will be other times where one of us will be doing our own thing and we'll inadvertently neglect the other and we'll have to deal with that. It's going to be messy for a bit, I'm sure. And eventually we'll get a routine together that works for both of us.

But that balance of dependence and independence is so necessary to strike. Because while we both need each other and the strong bond that a married couple has, the truth is we also both fell in love with independent individuals who can teach us, challenge us and show us new experiences.

It's going to be an interesting ride.

--CW

In Sickness...

When you're in a long-distance relationship, every weekend becomes a mini-vacation for one half of the couple.

My fiancee and I live about 90 minutes away from each other. I don't know if I would classify it as officially long-distance, as we're close enough to meet halfway midweek, but it is far enough for one of us to pack up and leave home for a few days just to spend the weekend with the other.

Kelly, honestly, does most of the legwork. She's been a real trooper about coming out 3 of the 4 weeks of the month to stay at my place while I go sleep at my parents'. It's not that my area of town is any nicer than hers (both of us pretty much live in pretty crappy towns, to be honest), but that I have family close by that I can stay with when she comes in to town.

When I go out to her neck of the woods, it means a motel rental. My adventures at the Motel 6 will one day be fodder for future entries, but for now I only mention it because it's pertinent to why I travel a bit less than Kelly during our weekends together.

This weekend was my weekend to go out to her, and I was looking forward to it being nice, relaxing and quiet. We were going to look at an apartment, spend the afternoon at a cider mill and then enjoy a weekend of drinking coffee, watching movies and having some nice conversation.

Then, the Michigan weather changed. It had been pushing 90 degrees all week and then, with one snap on Friday night, plunged into the 50s. My body usually reacts harshly when the weather goes from cold to warm in the Spring. Kelly's, I found out, wreaks havoc on her when the temperatures plunge.

We met up at a coffee shop in Ann Arbor, as we had planned, because she had spent the morning running some bridal errands. We did have a chance to view an apartment, but I could tell she was not feeling well. Her voice was ravaged, she was constantly blowing her nose and I could see in her eyes that she was a bit weak. We spent maybe 10 minutes at the cider mill and left because her cold made it impossible for her to taste the cider or doughnuts (which is a shame: they were delicious).

I don't know how other people react when they're sick, but I tend to nurse myself in isolation. I confine myself to my bed or couch and depend on a therapeutic regimen of Nyquil, naps and television. I could tell that Kelly was exhausted and I suggested on more than one occasion that I could leave and she could sleep.

The truth was, I was very worried that she was going out and keeping me there out of obligation. I knew she probably felt bad that I had driven 90 miles and rented a motel room and now I wasn't going to get to have much fun. I was basically going to be a caretaker. I wasn't going to get to enjoy the cider and doughnuts with her (and I wasn't going to sit there drinking cup after cup in front of her), it hurt her to talk and I knew that she'd need to go to bed early.

And had it been any one else blowing into a Kleenex, coughing violently or talking with that rasp, I would have been frustrated and probably picked up and left. But every time I asked her if I should leave, I was happy when she said no, she wanted me to stay. I was more than happy to go to Meijer and buy some Vicks for her. I had a great time lying on the couch with her and watching "Fantastic Mr. Fox" or "Arrested Development" episodes. I didn't mind the fact that I had to retire to Motel 6 at 10:30 p.m. and spent the rest of the night reading in bed with a bottle water and bag of beef jerky at my side. And this afternoon when I knew that she was in need of a good, long nap, I knew exactly when to pick up my keys and head home.

The truth is, that I'm learning there's something so much deeper to relationship than simply having a good time. Yes, I always love the nights when we can go to the movies or the weekends where we take trips together. I love when we stay up late talking or debating. I love it when we're being romantic and sappy and all caught up in this whole "love thing."

But I've watched couples. I've read books. I've lived life. I know that the romantic feelings aren't around 24/7. And yes, I've always wondered what it would be like in a relationship to live through those moments where neither person is feeling particularly "in love."

And being around Kelly, I've learned that these "normal moments" are some of my favorite in my life because of the sheer surprise I've seen in myself. I'm not by nature a selfless person--I like my routines to be uninterrupted, things to go my way and life to be happy.

But with Kelly, I've seen myself actually want to take care of another person. It was not a chore to go to Meijer and pick up Vap-O-Rub for her. It was not torture for me to sit across from her at Panera in silence because I knew how much it pained her to talk. I felt at home sitting on the couch with her watching TV and even though I couldn't kiss her on the lips when I left, I still felt a peck on the cheek was meaningful for us.

It wasn't the first time I've noticed this surprising reaction in myself. I know for a fact that Kelly hates making the drive out to my house on Friday nights, when she's worked all day and has to fight rush hour traffic to get out there. Sometimes she's not in the best of moods upon pulling into the driveway. And to be honest, I used to have a bit of dread about this because, as I said, I like people to be happy all the time.

A few weeks ago, however, she had to come out on a Friday night and I knew the drive was going to be horrible. And I found myself asking what I could do to make her feel easier when she arrived. So I chilled a bottle of water and walked out with it when she arrived and then came inside and gave her a long hug once she was in.

It's a stupid, little thing. But it surprises me. It surprises me because I'm finding that meeting her needs--even something as trivial as that--is meeting a need in myself as well. I never realized just how much I wanted to take care of someone, to be the one to make them smile after a rough day or just make them feel a little less alone and isolated when they're sick. Meeting all those little practical needs and doing those little non-romantic things may not be what we all dream of when we're single and looking for a relationship.

But to be honest, those little moments are some of the most meaningful to me and the kind that show me just how much I love this woman and how she's changing me.

And that's got to be a good thing, right? After all, I'm expecting life to be filled with a lot more runny noses and long car rides than late night walks and candlelit dinners. And don't these little moments, which require a bit of sacrifice and inconvenience on our part, show love a lot more than a large gesture which we both enjoy?

--CW