I’ve been thinking about this post for a while. It’s been a very long time since I’ve written, and for what I think is a very good reason–everything has changed. Shortly after my last post, I met this guy, minus the silly glasses and overbite.
And as much of an over-sharer as I can be, writing about a new relationship on the internets for all the world to see just didn’t seem wise.
Fast forward to today, a year and a half later, and everything has changed, or is about to change. We met, fell in love, got engaged, sold my house, bought a new house, and in just a little over a month will be committing our lives to each other. For-ev-er.
If you sense a little trepidation, you’d be right. Because all of the change is one of those “and” things. I am madly in love, and terrified when I think about the divorce rate. I am so excited to move into our new house, and some days incredibly sad to be leaving mine. I cannot wait to wake up next to the man I love everyday, and I’m a little nervous about no longer making all my own decisions. It’s all “and” stuff for sure.
As I think about our relationship and the future, I’m tempted to focus on the fear. I don’t know about others, but for me change is hard, and sometimes bogs me down. I’ve googled divorce statistics and how to avoid divorce, and all kinds of not-so-really-helpful things.
But this is also an “and” thing. And the other side of this one is gratitude. For having met Elisha, the most caring, kind, smart, funny, hard-working, loyal people I know. For getting to spend the rest of my life with him. For knowing that neither of us planned this, but yet somehow every step of the way it has worked out. Beautifully.
Which makes me think of Barbara Brown Taylor. I’ve started reading her lately after hearing a little about her in church. In Altars in the World she says this about seeing God in the world:
Or I can set a little altar, in the world or in my heart. I can stop what I am doing long enough to see where I am, who I am there with, and how awesome the place is. I can flag one more gate to heaven-one more patch of ordinary earth with ladder marks on it-where the divine traffic is heavy when I notice it and even when I do not. I can see it for once, instead of walking right past it, maybe even setting a stone or saying a blessing before I move on to wherever I am due next.
Human beings may separate things into as many piles as we wish-separating spirit from flesh, sacred from secular, church from world. But we should not be surprised when God does not recognize the distinctions we make between the two. Earth is so thick with divine possibility that it is a wonder we can walk anywhere without cracking our shins on altars.