Love Changes Us

“…love is an invitation to growth, a call to responsibility, and a hope for all that could be.”

(From the Opening Prayer, February 14th, 2021, Zoom Church, Bethel UCC, White Salmon)

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It was May 28th, 1994.

“I have a question for you.” he said.

On a snowy hike into the Indian Heaven Wilderness, and we had just stopped for lunch. I was pretty sure his question wasn’t whether I wanted the turkey or the ham sandwich.

“Will you marry me?” he asked.

“Yes!” I answered.

Hiking back out it hit me. On the trail going in, life had looked one way. Walking back out, life as we had known it had changed.

Because that’s what love does.

It changes us.

Whenever we say yes to love of any kind, we are committing ourselves to something bigger without knowing how it will all turn out. Love isn’t about certainty, but a commitment to continue to show up and say yes even when it’s hard. Especially when it is hard.

Before we say yes to love, our life looks one way. After we say yes, life as we have known it, will change.

Because that’s what love does.

It changes us.

27 years of continuing to show up and saying yes. Here’s to the next 27!

25 Years And Counting

August 27, 1994

Yesterday we celebrated our 25th anniversary. I never knew love could be this big, or life this good, which is not to say that it has been smooth sailing or easy going. Far from it. It has however been worth every single minute that we’ve spent learning to create the life we share. Like most things, we’ve learned as much by what we got wrong (plenty) as by what we got right (thankfully plenty here as well it seems), and in honor of each of those years, and in no particular order, here is what my geologist and I came up with…

1. Love by listening.

2. Assume good intent.

3. Do your work and expect them to do the same

4. Don’t do their work for them and don’t expect them to do yours for you.

5. Play together.

6. Learn to laugh at yourself and with one another.

7. Talk about it, no matter what.

8. Learn to speak one another’s love languages.

9. Get a therapist.

10. Create at least one daily ritual that connects you.

11. Be active together.

12. Own up to what’s yours in real time.

13. Go on adventures.

14. Stay curious.

15. Be authentic.

16. Tell the truth even when it’s hard…especially when it’s hard.

17. Be courageous enough to be vulnerable.

18. Make your relationship the priority and move out from there.

19. Have the conversations that you don’t want to have.

20. Cook together.

21. Create lives of your own that strengthen the one you share.

22. Set boundaries that protect your relationship.

23. Identify and learn about each other’s enneagram numbers - really!

24. Love generously.

25. And because it bears repeating…do your work and expect them to do theirs.

I can’t wait to discover what we’ll learn over the next 25…

The Garage Day 2

When it comes to cleaning, clearing, and organizing a garage, like many things in life, it’s different strokes for different folks. I’m a tosser, he’s a saver, and with those two facts in play, as you can imagine, this project could stir up a little emotional stuff for the two of us. However, if we’ve learned anything in our 25 years together, it is that while we couldn’t be much more different, our commitment to one another is the same. So this morning, before setting one foot in the garage, we sat down with our coffee, and along with my sister and her husband who are here to help, had a conversation about what we wanted to be true at the end of this daunting project. Yes, by the end of the week we want to have made major progress. Yes, by the end of the week we want to have hauled away as many truck loads as possible. Yes, by the end of the week we want to have created a much more organized and clean space in which to start using the garage for the purpose it was originally built. And, yes, and most importantly, by the end of the week the four of us want to have all laughed together, had fun together, and be even more grateful for one another.

When it comes to cleaning, clearing, and organizing a garage, like many things in life, the project isn’t the real project. What matters in the end is how we conducted ourselves in the midst of the project. What matters in the end is how we related to one another in the midst of the project. What matters in the end is whether or not we are better people, both individually and collectively, because of the project. That can only happen when we realize that the project isn’t the real project. It is just a vehicle to become even more of the authentic and wholehearted people we are called to be.

Stay tuned.

Where’s My Towel?

This morning at my sister’s house, I stuck my head into the guest bathroom where I thought my husband Tom had already taken his shower, grabbed the unused bath towel on the rack, and headed to the other bathroom to take my own shower.  

I needed a towel.  

The towel was there.

Problem solved.

An hour later as we were packing up our things to load into the car Tom said So I was pretty resourceful this morning, don’t you think? From the quizzical look on my face he must have realized I wasn’t tracking with him. I got out of the shower only to find out that my towel was gone and had to make do with the hand towel. All I could do was laugh and think ‘that’s my girl’. 

Sometimes love just smacks you up side the head. 

Connection

Recently we were given the book reconnect by Steve D. Call, PhD, and I highly recommend it. While there are many points I could highlight here, I will share just one in the hopes that it will pique your interest to learn more. If it does, grab a copy for yourself.

Very , very simply put, relationships are in one of the following states:

connection

disconnection

reconnection

Think about it. Everything is going along swimmingly, and then bam, because of a comment, conflict, misunderstanding, or we just get out of sorts because we’re tired, hungry, or stressed, we suddenly move from connection to disconnection. At that point, the invitation is always to move towards reconnection. In my experience, this happens on both the micro and macro level, and if we accept the invitation to move towards reconnection on the smaller, daily stage, it can go a long way towards avoiding finding ourselves on the big long term stage.

My husband and I are finding it good food for thought to go with our morning coffee. Maybe you will too.

This Is Us

When we are in relationship with others, our differences are more evident than our similarities. No place is this more apparent than in marriage. Tom and I have been married for almost 25 years, and our many differences are as evident today as they were when we were starry-eyed in love on the day of our wedding.

I’m prickly. He’s buttoned up.

I’m multi-layered and a tad complicated. He has a deep, gentle core and is more straight forward.

I experience and express all of my feelings ad nauseam. He’s darn good at avoiding any emotions that rock his internal Hakuna Matata, much less putting words to them.

I’m a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl. He’s a planner.

I can go for days without a shower. He can’t.

I state my needs and preferences quickly, and perhaps a little too easily. He poses a question as a backdoor way of stating his desires without having to take ownership for them.

I care about form first, function second. He starts with function and hopes for form.

I move fast. He’s methodical.

I can commander any conversation. He tends to take a back seat.

I know I’ll find a parking space close in. He’s pretty sure he won’t.

I’m messy. He’s, ummm, not.

A good example of how this plays out happened the other morning. We were staying at Los Poblanos, a drop-dead fabulous historic inn in Albuquerque, NM. Sitting in bed with our cups of French Press coffee, it went something like this.

Act 1

Him: Do you want to explore the grounds after our coffee?

Me: Yes! And then go to breakfast. (Rated the best breakfast in all of New Mexico.)

Him: But shower first, right?

Me: (Big sigh) Can’t we just be spontaneous?

Him: (Jaw muscles clench) A shower just wakes me up.

Me: And you don’t think a brisk walk in 31 degree air will do that?

Him: (More jaw clenching)

Me: (Bigger sigh) Fine. We can come back, you shower, and I’ll keep walking or read or something.

We finish our coffee in strained silence and head out for a walk.

Act 2

It was a glorious morning, and as we wandered the trails discovering secret gardens, meditation spaces, the resident llamas, took in the attention to detail in the design of the buildings and grounds, and breathed the fresh morning air, the sun on our faces warmed up our hearts. Pretty soon we were laughing, holding hands, and giving thanks for the unbelievable blessing of even being able to grant ourselves this kind of experience.

Me: Who gets to do this??

Him: Today, I guess we do.

Me: It feels so good to be out here together.

Him: (Deep laugh) I think I want breakfast.

Me: Now? Before your shower?

Him: Yep. It’s amazing how rigid I think I have to be in my mind. Thank you for challenging me to do it differently.

We finish our walk and head off to breakfast in happy silence.

Act 3

We head into Campo for breakfast. Our server comes by our table with coffee, and I jump straight into an energetic conversation with her.

Me: We had the most amazing dinner last night.

Her: I’m so happy to hear that.

Me: We both think it was one of the best, if not the best meal we’ve ever had anywhere.

Her: Wow! My partner is the Sous Chef. I’ll be sure and tell him. What did you order?

Me: I had the Rib-Eye. OMG, it was beyond delicious. We also had the Sashimi, the grilled asparagus, and Tom had the Pork Chop.

We order our breakfast.

Act 4

We sip our coffee in easy silence for a few minutes.

Him: (In a quiet, gentle voice) I’d like to offer an observation. You jumped into that conversation, took off running, and didn’t give me a chance to answer for myself or give my opinion.

Me: (Taking a moment) You are so right. I don’t even see myself doing it.

Him: Just like when I ask you what you want as a way avoiding taking ownership for my own needs.

Me: Yes!

Him: You are really helping me with that.

Me: Like you just helped me.

Here is the truth—we are different in so many ways, and while we sometimes drive each other crazy, we’ve also come to count on the gifts that come wrapped in our differences. When all is said and done…this is us.

The Doctor Is In

When we got Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle, little did we know that we were also getting our very own four-legged marriage counselor.

Tom and I have done a lot of work over the course of our 25 year marriage, and have a deep trust in and respect for one another, but somehow Dr. Gracie has a way of showing us that these two old dogs still need to learn some new relationship tricks.

We’ve adopted an approach to raising Gracie that will equip her to have the freedom we want her to enjoy here at home, and out in the big wide world on all of our shared adventures. Just when we think we are on the same page on what that approach means, we learn that we aren’t.

And then we have to talk about it.

Again.

After another conversation to clear the air and our understanding, we’re on a new page together, until we learn that we aren’t.

And then we have to talk about it.

Again.

Our little chocolate girl is helping us to dig a little deeper into our own fears and hurts that have been buried under long ago frozen ground, and bring them to the surface where we can lay them at one another’s feet as food for deeper conversation, leading to deeper understanding, leading to deeper connection.

We’ve got Dr. Gracie, but dog owners or not, we all have people and situations smack dab in the middle of our lives that have to potential to teach us new relationship tricks. While It will probably mean that we will have to dig deeper into our own fears and hurts, Gracie will tell you it’s totally worth it!

Safe Is Overrated

  “Well, we are safe, even as we are as vulnerable as kittens,  because love, the riskiest thing we do, makes us safe.”

~ Anne Lamott, from her new book: Almost Everything

In C.S. Lewis’s classic, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the Pevensie children find themselves in the magical land of Narnia after stepping through a door in the back of a wardrobe that is stored in an attic. Once there, they learn of Aslan, who is anything but a vulnerable little kitten. He is the fierce, gigantic, talking lion known as the King of Narnia, the King of Beasts, the Lord of the Wood, and son of the great Emperor-Beyond-The Sea.* He is powerful, wise, kind, just, and loving. All of those on the wrong side of all that he stands for fear him, as rightly they should. All of those who seek to stand on the same side of all that he stands for fear him, as rightly they should. He is, after all, the King of Narnia, King of Beasts, Lord of the Wood, and son of the great Emperor-Beyond-The-Sea.

Susan, the middle child of the four Pevensie siblings, has heard much of Aslan, but has yet to meet him. She has heard only of all the good that the powerful Aslan has done, and will do, and is excited at the prospect of meeting him. And, as you might imagine if you were going to meet a fierce, gigantic, talking Lion who reigns over all, you might be a tad bit nervous too. Hoping to allay her fears, she has a conversation with her new friend, Mr. Beaver. 

“Is he-quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion"..."Safe?" said Mr Beaver ..."Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you.”

Safe is overrated.  

Being true to your convictions isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Speaking your mind isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Adventures aren’t safe. But they’re good. 

Curiosity isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Creativity isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Meaningful work isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Authenticity isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Vulnerability isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Hard conversations aren’t safe. But they’re good.

Asking for help isn’t safe. But it’s good.  

Raising your hand in a meeting isn’t safe. But it’s good.

Reaching across the aisle isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Speaking truth to power isn’t safe. But it’s good.  

Asking for forgiveness isn’t safe. But it’s good.

Extending forgiveness isn’t safe. But it’s good.

And above all else... 

Love isn’t safe. But it’s good.  

When we go for safe, we will never get the chance to walk through the door in the back of a wardrobe that is stored in an attic, and find ourselves in a magical land. Not to mention the possibility of meeting a fierce, giagantic, talking lion. 

I’ll take good over safe any day.  

  

* shmoop

Happy Anniversary

"The greater danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark. ”
- Michelangelo

One night in 1993 I was making a fire. It was a Friday, which in our house meant pizza and a movie in front of a fire. Crumpling up some pages from the Willamette Week, the hip, professional paper in Portland, Oregon, two words in bold print caught my eye: Romantic Scientist. Now there's an oxymoron for you. Pre e-harmony, Tinder, and It's Just Lunch, the paper was known for its personals ads. The truth was, I wan't looking for love. I was just building a fire. Five years out of a destructive marriage, I was 40 years old with two young daughters, a good job, and a nice little home in a lovely neighborhood with good schools. Life. Was. Good. But there was something about that ad that intrigued me. Whoever wrote it sounded like someone I'd like to meet. I took a deep breath and what felt like a big risk, and answered the ad. Wrote a letter, stuck it in an envelope along with a photo of the three of us, and drove it to the post office so as not to talk myself out of it in the morning. A few weeks later we had our first date, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Today marks the 24th year of being married to my romantic scientist, and I offer this post in gratitude for every one of those years. For the love we share, and for the magical partnership we've created in our years together. I have to say, it honestly feels like a match made in heaven, even though we've had to work harder than hell to get here.

We couldn't be more different. I'm an introvert. He's not. He's good at math. I'm not. I care about form. He's all about function. I'm an external processor. He's not. He loves world travel. Nothing makes me happier than being at home. He's a peacemaker. I'm a disturber of the peace. His love languages are touch and quality time together, which means he loves it when I hang out with him, and reach out and touch...his hands, his face, his arm, his... well, you get the picture.  Mine are words of affirmation, and space and autonomy, which means please tell me I'm beautiful, and then just go away. I'm messy. He's a bit more buttoned up. I talk about myself too much. He should speak up for himself more. He struggles to find words for his feelings. I have more than enough for both of us.

Our first marriages taught us what we didn't want, and when we got together we tried our best to learn what we did. While we both understood that it would require us to "show up  and do the work", we had no idea what that meant. Early on I came up with what I thought was a great analogy. It would be like the two of us going to the doctor's office for an exam. We would both need to strip naked, get up on the exam table under those god-awful lights, and be willing to examine every lump, bump, spot, and imperfection. We'd be willing to bare it all. He nodded in that peacemaking way that makes me think he's totally onboard, when really he's just trying not to rock the boat.

Early on, so many differences didn't  make for smooth sailing. Somewhere about year eight, an especially big storm hit, and we were heading for some rocks. While neither of us wanted another boat, we needed to learn how to steer the one we were in. Sitting over coffee I told him that the marriage we had wasn't the one I wanted, and tried my best to explain what I meant by that and why. There were tears (mine), a boatload of emotions (mine), and a lot of silence (his). Reaching the end of my explanation rope I said, "I feel like I'm up on the exam table, naked as a jaybird, and you are sitting in the chair with all your clothes on, taking notes on a clip board. Get naked and get up here with me. Now!!" And he did.

24 years later, here is what I know about navigating our marriage waters: It's taken lots of hours in a therapist's office, and putting into practice what we learned there. We've discovered how to tend to the pain sooner rather than later, allowing our wounds to heal into scars. And in that knitting back together, that which connects us is stronger than before. Because our love is fierce, we fight for it mightily. Because we've had to learn that it is fragile, we tend to it gently. We've learned that the truth is what sets us free, and that living together means giving each other room to roam. We've learned to wire together our differences so that the lines of communication stay open. With endless opportunities to practice, we continue to master the art of forgiveness, both the asking for and the extending of. We work to be long on grace and short on judgment. We've come to have faith in one another's strengths when faced with our own weaknesses. He has taught me to "love by listening", and I've helped him learn to find words for his feelings. 

We still have to get naked under those god-awful lights and climb up on the exam table. But I know I'll never find myself up there alone.

Happy Anniversary.

ATG Photography