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| 9. Food. [yes, it's that important.]
There are many important components of marriage that instantly stand out to me. They seem obvious. I think we can all agree that conflict resolution, holiday traditions, family dynamics, and friendships are all big pieces of the marriage puzzle. But there's one not-so-obvious component that I would like to highlight: food. I have found that food is just as important of a dynamic as some of these other puzzle pieces. Groceries, dinner dates, fast food runs, and home-cooked meals can dramatically shape the character and personality of a marriage.
There's so many little food choices we made during our first year that have likely shaped the rest of our lives. Sounds a little dramatic, perhaps? Hey, I am serious about my food. One of my greatest joys is found in cooking something that makes Josh reach for seconds. On the flip side, it makes me feel terrible when my edible creations aren't as delectable as I hoped.
Why do I feel this way, you may ask? Maybe it's because food has the potential to bring such enjoyment and comfort to a tummy and soul. Or perhaps it's that food serves as a symbol of nurture and nourishment. Maybe it's because I am keenly aware that I, as married woman, contribute massively to the happiness and nutrition of two adults and their taste buds. Or it could be, that, aside from all these reasons, it's simply because I like to eat?
When I go to someone's house, I always make a point of looking at their fridge. A refrigerator speaks loudly of its owner(s). I usually put an end to my fridge-gazing after eyeing the outside (pictures, kid art, funny magnets), but if I were to unwelcomely inspect the inside of a fridge, I'd probably learn much more about its owner(s). Is this couple health-conscious? Lazy? Are they on Atkins?
And then there's the pantry. What items does the couple find important and necessary for their physical well-being?
If you are engaged or ever going to get married and you see even a small fraction of food's importance, let me warn you: It all begins with that first grocery shopping trip. This is the most important one. This is the trip that builds the foundation of foods to come. What pastas do you buy? What kind of rice will you eat? Are we salty or sweet people? Are you a potato person (Every time we buy potatoes, they practically grow a new potato crop before we actually use them)? 2% or skim? You are setting precedences for the food culture of your home that will last in years to come.
And it doesn't end there. Once we took that first grocery trip, asked those important questions, and put our items away, it was time to cook. ....Now what? Granted, I knew how to cook...but what do we like? and where do I begin?
I put more effort into cooking during our first few months than I probably did our whole first year. I was constantly perusing Allrecipes.com or immersing myself in Betty Crocker. I tried many different things, "grilling" Josh along the way:
- Do you like it?
- Would you have this again?
- What would you change about this, if anything?
I probably made a lot of things I'll never make again while I walk this earth. Like that one StoveTop recipe I found.
I also discovered some things that were awesome, but took too much time to become "regulars". Like that pistachio crusted chicken. Wow, that was good. Or any special recipe from either of our moms. So delicious, but needing extra planning and time, they were a bit elusive.
But then there were the dishes deemed "weeklies": the golden, new-found "Herndon dishes" that would be used often. These are the dishes that didn't take too much time, but still brought the "second helping reach" and "three thumbs up if I had that many" from Josh. Things like: stuffed green peppers, chicken and veggies in angel hair (doused with olive oil, garlic salt, and coriander), crock pot pork chops and apples, fajitas, and curry chicken.
Throughout this process of trial, error, and success, we established some principles:
- We will, as far as it depends on us, never eat Top Ramen or Hamburger Helper for dinner
- You can never have too much garlic salt
- It's totally worth it to splurge on 100% maple syrup
- Always let the last two bananas get brown so Evie can make banana bread
- Josh BBQs, Evie cooks--unless it's Saturday morning pancakes or chocolate chip cookies (Josh's specialties)
See what I mean? The whole food process builds bonds between the married couple. It lays down the foundation of meals, groceries, and habits to come. It creates a sort of identity inside the home. Our job as a married couple is to create our own married culture under our own roof. This culture includes humor, holiday traditions, pastimes, conversations, and yes, food. Because food, although it is necessary for survival, needn't be plain or life-less like water, sleep, or breathing. It has the potential to be spiced up, sweetened, salted, and salivatingly scrumptious.
I'm going to go make some chicken curry now.
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| 8. Friends. [single double couple chemistry]
I still remember becoming friends with Hayley. We were standing in the pencil sharpener line on the first day of second grade. She asked me about a boy I was assigned to sit next to, and we found an instant bond in the fact that we believed him to have 'cooties'. Ah, how simple things were back then. If only.
Friendships seem to become more and more complicated as we grow, don't they? And if they weren't complicated enough already, friendships took quite a turn once I became a married woman. This was likely amplified in my case, since I immediately moved out of state following our honeymoon. I was in a place where I didn't know anyone, and no one knew me. It took a while to hit me, but after the first few months had passed, I became lonely and longed for meaningful friendships.
But when you get married, friendships take more work. You are now a responsible adult, and there are higher priority relationships that must be nurtured (namely, your spouse). There are also responsibilities that must be taken care of which directly affect your marriage (your job, your church involvement, your family, need I say more?). Who has time for friends?
There is a popular myth about marriage that basically says, "Once I get married, I'll never be lonely again." The popular, age-old "Goin' to the Chapel" actually sings, "Today's the day we'll say 'I do', and we'll never be lonely anymore." What a statement, eh? And even if we say we don't agree with it, I believe there are similar subconscious expectations we all hold regarding marriage--expectations that we will never fully realize we had until we get there. I think, in some way, I expected the lyrics of that song to be true. But they weren't. I needed friends.
Don't get me wrong: Josh is great company. In many ways, I feel more fulfilled than ever, because there is someone who knows me better than anyone else will. There is someone who I will take with me through the dark and the bright, the dull and the exciting roads of life. But although all this is true, Josh can't fill the place of every friendship in my life. As I'm sure you are aware, there are different kinds of friendships and different kinds of friends. We all need those friends.
But there I was, experiencing the shift of friendships and relationships. It was a natural shift, and I'd even say a healthy one. But a shift, nonetheless.
Allow me to explain:
- There was a silent understanding between me and my close friends that now, we wouldn't have sleepovers or stay out until the wee hours of the morning. Nor would I be sharing every secret with them. Suddenly, there were portions of my life that were off limits.
- There were the awkward, unspoken attitudes of, "Oh, I get it. You're married now. You don't hang out with single people anymore." Which were totally untrue and unfair, but sadly, prevalent.
- There were changes in my guy friendships, too. From then on, there would only be one super-close guy friend in my life, and that was Josh. Sure, I still have guy friends that I care about and cherish as friends, but when you're married, there are (and should be) new boundaries and lines drawn in friendships with the opposite sex. You don't go out to dinner one-on-one. You don't call each other on the phone and talk until 2 A.M.
And then there's the new friendships. Josh and I, once single entities, were now making friends as a unit. And let me tell you, that's a whole different dynamic! Josh and I not only have had to learn how to work as a team in this area, but have also had to deal with all the other funny dynamics that come with this. For example: So-and-so wants to hang out with us. Now, we, being a unit, must make social decisions together. Decisions like: Do we both want to go? Can we both go? Do we both like the person--or, more often--the couple?
Oh yes. We have found ourselves in a whole new world of couple-friends. You know, the couples you befriend as a couple. This is always an interesting one, as the couple has to ensure the "Double Couple Chemistry"--do we, a two-person unit, feel like we can relate to this two-person unit? And then there's the "Single Double Couple Chemistry"--Do the girls of each couple get along? How about the guys? If the girls went shopping and left the guys by themselves, would they be uncomfortable?
And then there's friend envy. This is a one-sided occurrence. It takes place when either spouse feels like the other spouse is progressing more quickly in the friendship arena. It also occurs when a spouse feels that the social life the couple has is only due to her spouse's highly amiable personality (and not her own magnetic aura). And yes, it's usually a wife thing.
Oh, to be in second grade again! It was all so simple in second grade, wasn't it? "You like the monkey bars? I like the monkey bars, too! Let's be best friends!" Now that we're adults, everything seems so much more complicated...but is it, really? Perhaps it is. Or, probably it is.
But I'd like to propose a new tactic. As overwhelming as this all seems, let's do ourselves a favor and pretend it isn't. Let's all just smile and pretend it's simple. I say this because I know that my over-thinking and over-analyzing has done me more harm than good. I say this because it hasn't built good friendships; it's actually caused me to be quite selfish and self-centered.
I tend to think that if I were to ignore all these dynamics and scenarios (or at the very least, press through them with persistence), I would be a happier person. I would make more friends by simply reaching out and being myself. Other people would probably want to be my friend because I wasn't always thinking about how awkward and confusing this whole mess was.
Think about it. Who are your favorite people? I'll bet they're the ones who make you feel important and wanted. I'll bet they are a bit more simple in their approach. They probably are the ones who just smile and ask you questions about yourself.
So now, in this "Single Double Couple Chemistry" world of married friendships, I have made a new goal: to smile and reach out. To not worry. To stop anguishing over the close friend shifts, the unspoken angry attitudes, the new guy-friend-boundaries, or the friend envy. But most of all, to look at the person next to me and love them with pure, uncomplicated love, as if to make second-grade-Evie proud.
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| 7. My New-Found Role. [agape]
Here is a simple, slightly peculiar truth about marriage: When you become married, you immediately become a type of parent--even though you don't have kids. The day I walked down the aisle, I became a mom of sorts to the man I married, and my husband became a kind of father to me.
If that took you off-guard and you feel a little uncomfortable reading it, bear with me.
As I've mentioned before, the idea of "leaving and cleaving" is Biblical. We grow up under our parents' authority, and then we say "I do", and immediately, our status changes. We leave our parents and cleave--or cling--to our spouse. As we do this, some important truths come into the picture--truths that should not be ignored. You see, marriage is often viewed solely as passionate in romance or enjoyable in friendship, and thus, looked over in this regard. And maybe it's because it sounds a little strange and makes people feel uncomfortable, but if we dared to look closer, there are some wonderful treasures to be found.
Guys, you will someday (if you haven't already) take the place of your wife's father in many ways. Without getting into the discussion of perceived male dominance and issues of feminism, I believe that Josh has fulfilled this role in a quite a few respects: He protects, defends, provides, and cares for me the way a father would. I am, in a sense, his little girl. Again, don't let that give you the shudders. There is a love that is different than eros (passionate, erotic) and apart from phileo (friendship) involved here. Although no one could ever replace my dad because I love him, and "hey, he's my dad", Josh has taken over his role of being "head of our household". Now that my dad is no longer in authority over me, Josh is the one who is responsible for me. Josh is the one who keeps me line, takes care of me when I weary, and comes to my guard when I am afraid or threatened.
Girls, just as our husband fulfills the role our father once had, so we, too, assume the role his mother once had. This doesn't necessarily mean that we are to cook, iron, and clean our way through life, but it does mean this: We look out for our husbands. I am the one who takes care of Josh when he is sick, gives him a pep-talk when he's down, and reminds him of his priorities when he needs reminding. I am the one who, yes, cooks and cleans for him (and he for me) to provide a home of refuge and rest. I am responsible for loving and nurturing him, correcting him graciously when needed, and boosting his ego from time to time.
This, as you can imagine, has manifested itself in many ways, even over the course of just a year. Some funny instances, some serious, but all so needed on this journey of being husband and wife.
One of the first times I came across this truth was when Josh decided to make chocolate chip cookies. I said, "Awesome! I'll just sit here and relax. This is great." As I sat and wasted time upstairs (likely on Facebook), I was occasionally amused by outbursts of "Gah!" and the sounds of mystery objects dropping here and there. Finally, I gave in and ventured down the stairs to see what he was up to. There I found him, holding a potato masher, flour down the front of his shirt, forearms covered in cookie dough. After several seconds of trying not to laugh (followed by several seconds of giving up and laughing), I found myself looking at him in a new way I never had before: He had always been my friend, he had recently become my true love, but from that moment on, he was my precious little Joshua. I saw him with a new, tickling sort of adoration that I have held onto since.
Exactly one week ago, I was stumbling across an oral surgeon's office, desperately attempting to hold up a very much drugged and incapacitated Josh. He had undergone the "wisdom tooth experience", and just moments ago, had woken up from the anesthesia. I couldn't support his weight, and I panicked as I thought a few seconds into the future, where a long flight of stairs awaited us. Thankfully, the nurse provided a wheelchair and we wheeled him out. For the next 24 hours, I sat with a Josh I had never seen before. It was pretty hilarious seeing him that "out of it", but again, it was illuminating at the same time. As I pulled out bloody gauze from his wound, administered potent medicines, and fetched the bucket "just in case", I was reminded of my new-found role in his life. Again, I had always loved him, but our love had taken on a new shape, and I, a new role in his life.
Hopefully you feel a little at ease by this point. Do you see what I mean? There came a time --and it didn't take long at all-- where I realized that our relationship had deepened to a level that reached past physical attraction, good company, or emotional bonds. This love--and this role I am speaking of--is a dedication to agape love--the love that provides, protects, defends, and cares for, almost as a shepherd would sheep, a mother would child, or a father would daughter. This is the love that, above all, we must dedicate ourselves to, because it's the only one that lasts beyond wrinkles, memory loss, diapers, hormone changes, sickness, injury, or any other circumstance. It is our "love insurance" that provides security while life does what it tends to do. It is a love that many waters can not quench (Song of Solomon 8:7), and one that will stand the test of time.
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| 6. Of Pillow and Potty Talk. [humor culture]
Marriage is a beautiful, spiritual, and enlightening experience, which is why I've found myself up to my ears in spiritual applications and life lessons from this past year. I could easily write more than 12 chapters about all the golden nuggets of wisdom one can acquire from a married relationship. But let it be known that marriage is also hilarious.
Ladies and gentlemen, I have found my laugh again. I used to be a giddy, blushing, freckled girl who always had reason to laugh. Then college happened and I got all introspective and introverted for a few years. But thank heaven that Josh came, because with him, my laughing self has awoken. Falling in love tends to make you fall down, laughing at times. I am so glad.
Those of you who know Josh probably know what I'm talking about. Even if you don't know him, though, I'm sure you can appreciate what I am about to say.
When you're married, you grow very comfortable with your spouse. You get beyond the "I must impress you" phase, and you're finally ready to talk about the odd mole on your ear and the oh-so-fascinating habits of your digestive system. As you can imagine, this new-found freedom comes with a lot of laughs. Crack-ups. Can't-breathe-because-you're-dying-of-laughter-and-crying-and-falling-down-all-at-the-same-time moments. And really, is there anything better?
Like the time I thought it would be fun to surprise Josh by jumping on him and seeing if he'd catch me. Forgetting that he had just eaten, I was slightly offended (but not so offended that I didn't find it hilarious) when he let out a huge "UGH" and dropped me.
Or our habit of doing, uh....interpretive dances for each other to the most ridiculous, non-inspiring songs we can find.
Or this puzzling language we speak when we're alone together. The one that sounds like a cross between "I Am Sam" and a case of turrets.
Or every time Josh decides to play "The Paralyzed Game": "Hey Evie, what would you do if I was paralyzed....right.....NOW?!" *As he immediately falls on top of me, all of his dead body weight pinning me against the floor.* This game always ends the same way: After me laughing to the point of tears and trying (unsuccessfully) to get him off me, I try turning the tables and remaining motionless, myself. "Ha!" I say. "Now who's paralyzed?!" Unfortunately, I habitually forget that I have fallen into the trap of his ultimate plan: cuddle time.
And then there's the time we finally finished decorating for Christmas. Two Christmas trees, 100 feet of garland, and countless twinkle lights later, we sat and gaped at our re-adorned 700 square foot cottage, only to nearly keel over laughing at how absurdly over-decorated it was.
Of course, not all these moments take two, but they're still worth a laugh.
Case in point: most every night, I brace myself for some type of punch, kick, or steamroll from a sleeping Josh. Or better yet, a stream of nonsense baby-babble from the mouth of my unconscious husband.
And sometimes I laugh at us--or at him--when I'm by myself. I'll find traces of funny he left behind while he was at work, and be able to tell the tickling tale when he comes home again. This is one of my favorite parts about marriage thus far.
There are so many of these moments that I have lost track. There are so many laughs that I would bore you to death if I tried to tell every story. But that's what you get when you're married. You develop a language, a sense of humor, and a long list of inside jokes that are unique to your home address. You have your own "humor culture". It is a culture you take mutual pride in, a culture that causes you to wear a smile and, at times, shaking shoulders.
Let's face it: life is hard enough without having difficulty inside the walls of your home. It is my strong opinion that the laughs are just as important as the cries, the arguments, and the heart-to-hearts. Laughter is the glue that bonds all of these experiences together and makes life a little more doable.
And now, it's time to heave my dead body weight on a certain unsuspecting boy.
Laugh well and prosper.
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| 5. Year of Miracles. [all you need is love]
If there's one thing marriage has opened my eyes to, it's God's providence. After the honeymoon was over, I found myself under a new roof, away from all my old "security blankets". I had no source of income. Josh had a job; I didn't. All my "plan b's" were out of the picture, and all I had to my name was stuffed in a tiny place that we had to pay to live in.
Everything we had taken for granted under Mom and Dad's care was swiped out from underneath our feet, and this was our time to stand on our own. And there's no room for error when error equals lack of shelter, warmth, and food. We had an abundance of love, and suddenly, an abundance of bills and responsibilities.
Could it be that the Beatles were wrong? Is love really all you need? When the rubber meets the road, the song seems a little naive. After all, there are many things we, as humans, need to survive. We need food. We need warmth and shelter. We need water. And then--there are those things that aren't absolutely necessary, but they make life so much more enjoyable, don't they? It can be overwhelming to try and list all of those things. The task to survive and lead a "normal" life seems daunting at times.
But with this daunting list of necessities, desires, and responsibilities, came a wonderful 'something else': the sense that every single blessing we received came straight from God's hand. We were the direct recipients of God's provision in our lives. It was no longer about God providing for our parents, and therefore, indirectly providing for us; it was unmistakably clear that God was watching over us, as a couple--and as adults, the "heads of our home."
[excerpt from journal]
Day 23
Every little thing is a blessing. Each day I can't breathe in, breathe out enough gratefulness. My heart is over-flowing to Jesus for all of His provision. When you're a kid, you don't pay rent. You don't buy groceries. You think you are entitled to sugary cereals and cookies, not to mention milk and eggs. Suddenly, it's all dollar signs. I find myself praising God in my heart when we buy groceries, when we fill our tank with gas, when I step into our warm home. It's as if one day, the sun came up and everything turned into a gift, hand-wrapped by God Himself.
Having the rug pulled out underneath us was exactly what set us up for our Year of Miracles. Feeling overwhelmed opened up a world of potential in which God could prove His faithfulness. More than ever, I was able to see (perhaps because I was looking for it more fervently) God's generosity in my life. Time after time, I saw Him provide in little and large ways that I had never experienced prior to marriage.
You know what's amazing? We are in an area of the U.S. that has a pretty high cost of living. But somehow (and Josh, our money manager, has been baffled by it many a time), we have stayed in the black. I hardly worked at all the first 6 months, and we were fine. And trust me, Josh is no billionaire. That's a huge deal where we live.
There were so many ways God provided for us. Some of them sound a little silly, but in my heart I know that they are, however "small", blessings from God. When you have nothing, you become grateful for everything. The funny timing of "Hey, it's on us" dinner invites. "Random" gifts from people we hardly knew. An anonymous $40 for our first Christmas tree. All of our house quickly and easily furnished. Everything we needed, provided.
Not only that, but the idea of "everything we needed" also took quite a turn. During this time, we learned that we didn't "need" all we thought we did.
December 30
....We realized we desperately needed to go shopping. We had no chicken, no fruit, only carrots for veggies. We made pancakes for lunch. But in the midst of this realization, I came to yet another discovery: We had everything we needed. ...Marriage has drawn a new line between what I view as necessities and expendables. I have the love of my husband, and sure, I need to take care of myself sometimes, but taking care of him makes me so happy. It’s a fulfillment unlike anything I’ve ever known. It’s worth not getting my hair done every 2-3 months. It’s worth not having fancy cereals. It’s worth sacrifice...and to go further, the sacrifice hardly seems sacrifice when there is an abundance of love, joy, and gratitude in my heart. How odd the outside world seems now that my lines have shifted.
So maybe the Beatles were onto something: Love could be all you need. When you love God and your spouse, you find the necessities of life fall into place somehow. Your priorities change, and therefore, you "need" less. You realize you don't really need cable TV or a cool car. And no, you probably don't need that weekly pedicure or tri-weekly latte. You'll also find that loving God means you are provided for, and hey, if He looks after sparrows and lilies, maybe He'll look after me, too. Maybe love is all you need. And God, being the source of that love, is truly all we really needed during our Year of Miracles.
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