It was a dark and stormy night. Not really. Actually, it was a really nice day in Abilene, Texas. Kara was doing homework, staying ahead in her studies (as she does remarkably well). I was in Houston on a recruiting trip for ACU basketball.
I woke up early Saturday morning to watch several high school teams go at it. I had written myself a note in my coaching folder, "Don't forget to buy Kara something nice for Valentine's Day." Knowing exactly how much money I had in the bank ($6.12 or something close to that), I had to be creative. Kara wasn't looking for anything extravagant. She knew I was a broke grad student, barely making ends meet.
The day went by quickly. Towards the end, about four o'clock, I went to take a break from my recruiting notes. As I walked downstairs in the gym to grab a drink, I noticed a large table with boxes and boxes of girl scout cookies. I thought to myself, "I have ten bucks cash in my pocket, and six dollars in the bank . . . girl scout cookies could work." I bought the box of thin mints cookies. Put them in my car, returned back to watch a few more hoop games.
I drove from Houston to Abilene that night, getting in real late. The next morning, I picked Kara up early to go to church. We listened to Mike Cope preach a great sermon in his "More than Thunder" series from the Gospel of John. Some of those sermons sustained in ways I can't quite explain that year.
After church, we ate a cheap lunch (she probably paid) and went back to her place. I had tons of film work to finish for our games that week, so I was going to head back to Moody Coliseum to break down the game tapes. Before Kara got out, I leaned towards the back of my car, grabbed the thin mints, turned my body towards Kara and said, "Honey, you know I don't have a lot of money . . . Happy Valentine's Day." I should note that right before this, she had given me a bunch of simple but thoughtful gifts for our upcoming honeymoon to Maui (sandals, etc.).
Typical Kara, she didn't say anything in the moment. She went inside, I went to work. The next day, I came to her house to have dinner. When I walked in, there it was: the evidence of my stupidity. In a large vase, rested a box of . . . you guessed it . . . thin mint girl scout cookies. That was Kara's way of saying, "I didn't get flowers, or a card, or chocolates, or a poem. I got girl scout cookies." In that moment, I knew how bad I'd blown it. I apologized profusely.
The next year, to make up for this disaster (hey, penance is not always a bad thing), we had seven days of Valentine's Day in our house. Seriously. Seven days of thoughtful gifts. And I promise you, I've not blown Valentine's Day since the disaster of the thin mint cookies.
Barbara Brown Taylor notes that men can be a bit stubborn at times. "Why does it take thousands of sperm to fertilize a single egg? Because the sperm refuse to stop and ask for directions."
I've learned my lesson. Taking the easy way out is never the easy way out. With Kara, I get windows of opportunity to show her I care more about her than my normal routines and impulses. I'm sure I'm not the only guy who's learned the painful lessons of romance. Any of you care to share your blunders?
Showing posts with label Marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marriage. Show all posts
14 February 2009
17 January 2009
Friendship
I'm sitting in a booth with Kara at Azteca's Mexican Restaurant. It's snowing. Hard. It's been snowing all day. Non-stop since ten o'clock this morning. It hasn't stopped. I think it's about minus four degrees outside.
Inside, we're eating good food. Sweet-tea to wash it down.
Kara and I are talking about life, dreams, plans, hopes, lessons learned in our marriage thus far. I notice that the cooks in the kitchen are staring at Kara. This happens all the time. Seriously. Not trying to be funny but it's true. Since I've known Kara, she, without any effort on her part (aside from being alive and breathing) attracts Hispanic men.
When we lived in Nashville, Hispanic men would virtually pull of the highway as we drove around Nashville. I-65 has not been the same since we left. The restaurant that paid the bills (Kara was a waitress while I finishing my M.Div.) was full of eager Hispanic workers. In fact, they became some of her closest friends. Kara would leave the apartment for the 4pm to 12am shift with a quick and sharp, "I'm going to see Jesus."
I laughed every time. I still do.
Anyways, Kara and I start talking about the great friends God has placed in our lives. We've just come from the hospital where two of our close friends--Aaron and Julie Mize--have just welcomed their first child, Calli, into this world. She's beautiful. 7 pounds. 3 ounces of perfection.
The discussion turns to the big sister Kara never had, Mary Morris. Mary was Kara's mentor, sister, friend, confidant, and overall champion. Mary taught at Lipscomb. Mary grew up in the same town as Kara, Morgantown, W.V. Kara still says the reason she likes Whitney Houston and Maroon Five is simply because, "That's who Mary listened to." She also likes the occasional Michael Jackson song for the same reason.
Mary died over four years ago. She battled cancer valiantly. Her body failed her. I've never seen Kara so burdened with a blanket of sadness as the night we got the phone call from Kara's dad (Mary's parents and Kara's parents have been friends for several years), "Kara, Mary is no longer with us."
Kara sank to the floor. Crocodile tears flowed down. We laughed. We cried. We remembered how Mary loved when I would tell inappropriate jokes right from the stories of scripture. Or, the time when Mary looked at me and said, "Josh, tell me about heaven again." I was a third year seminarian and grateful to share what I knew. Especially when what I knew might actually make a difference in the real world, and not a crusty, stale library.
Over sweet tea, taco salad, and good Mexican food we remembered our friend. She is still with us. We breath her laughter, singing voice, wisdom, courage, and character each and every time we tell the stories that made Mary the extraordinary human she was.
It's cold as can be outside. But inside, it's warm enough.
And it is enough. Our questions are never answered. Our frustrations never silenced. But it is enough to remember . . . grateful that we have any memories at all.
Inside, we're eating good food. Sweet-tea to wash it down.
Kara and I are talking about life, dreams, plans, hopes, lessons learned in our marriage thus far. I notice that the cooks in the kitchen are staring at Kara. This happens all the time. Seriously. Not trying to be funny but it's true. Since I've known Kara, she, without any effort on her part (aside from being alive and breathing) attracts Hispanic men.
When we lived in Nashville, Hispanic men would virtually pull of the highway as we drove around Nashville. I-65 has not been the same since we left. The restaurant that paid the bills (Kara was a waitress while I finishing my M.Div.) was full of eager Hispanic workers. In fact, they became some of her closest friends. Kara would leave the apartment for the 4pm to 12am shift with a quick and sharp, "I'm going to see Jesus."
I laughed every time. I still do.
Anyways, Kara and I start talking about the great friends God has placed in our lives. We've just come from the hospital where two of our close friends--Aaron and Julie Mize--have just welcomed their first child, Calli, into this world. She's beautiful. 7 pounds. 3 ounces of perfection.
The discussion turns to the big sister Kara never had, Mary Morris. Mary was Kara's mentor, sister, friend, confidant, and overall champion. Mary taught at Lipscomb. Mary grew up in the same town as Kara, Morgantown, W.V. Kara still says the reason she likes Whitney Houston and Maroon Five is simply because, "That's who Mary listened to." She also likes the occasional Michael Jackson song for the same reason.
Mary died over four years ago. She battled cancer valiantly. Her body failed her. I've never seen Kara so burdened with a blanket of sadness as the night we got the phone call from Kara's dad (Mary's parents and Kara's parents have been friends for several years), "Kara, Mary is no longer with us."
Kara sank to the floor. Crocodile tears flowed down. We laughed. We cried. We remembered how Mary loved when I would tell inappropriate jokes right from the stories of scripture. Or, the time when Mary looked at me and said, "Josh, tell me about heaven again." I was a third year seminarian and grateful to share what I knew. Especially when what I knew might actually make a difference in the real world, and not a crusty, stale library.
Over sweet tea, taco salad, and good Mexican food we remembered our friend. She is still with us. We breath her laughter, singing voice, wisdom, courage, and character each and every time we tell the stories that made Mary the extraordinary human she was.
It's cold as can be outside. But inside, it's warm enough.
And it is enough. Our questions are never answered. Our frustrations never silenced. But it is enough to remember . . . grateful that we have any memories at all.
02 September 2008
Priceless
Kara is quite the organizer.
Recently, she went through a bunch of drawers, boxes, and files . . . in that process I found a card she'd written to me a few years back. Here's an excerpt:
". . . [T]o try and put into words the experience and feelings of the past two years is impossible. Yes, some days are rough, but if I could only live two years, it would be the last two. You have showed me a new and true part of myself, I have learned to love deeper and live out loud 'louder' since falling in love with you."
I would not trade these moments for anything under the sun.
Recently, she went through a bunch of drawers, boxes, and files . . . in that process I found a card she'd written to me a few years back. Here's an excerpt:
". . . [T]o try and put into words the experience and feelings of the past two years is impossible. Yes, some days are rough, but if I could only live two years, it would be the last two. You have showed me a new and true part of myself, I have learned to love deeper and live out loud 'louder' since falling in love with you."
I would not trade these moments for anything under the sun.
20 August 2008
Laughter
Every couple has to figure out how to work through difficult times and disagreements. Kara and I are very open that we sometimes clash due to our unusually stubborn personalities. Seriously, we are not afraid of conflict with each other, and we will challenge each other whenever we see fit.
Having said that . . . it's important, in my estimation, to develop a bond that transcends likes/dislikes/hobbies/gifts. On paper, Kara and I don't have a lot in common (other than the fact that we check "white" on most forms or surveys). We've learned to do new things together (we both enjoyed dance class, and love going to Tigers baseball games) . . .but we're still very different people.
Over the last few years, we've begun to discover what holds us together: we've learned to laugh together. That might sound trite, and it might not hold up under intense theological inquiry but I think it's actually pretty healthy.
Whether it's a quick one-liner (like the time Kara responded, "Don't look in the mirror" when I complained about getting older), or the regular "scare tactic" (recently Kara placed a horrible, ugly mask in the kitchen cupboard right before she asked me, rather innocently, to get her a glass of water). We've learned to laugh at each other . . . more importantly . . . we're learning to laugh at ourselves.
Laughter has been the tangible expression of grace in our marriage.
Having said that . . . it's important, in my estimation, to develop a bond that transcends likes/dislikes/hobbies/gifts. On paper, Kara and I don't have a lot in common (other than the fact that we check "white" on most forms or surveys). We've learned to do new things together (we both enjoyed dance class, and love going to Tigers baseball games) . . .but we're still very different people.
Over the last few years, we've begun to discover what holds us together: we've learned to laugh together. That might sound trite, and it might not hold up under intense theological inquiry but I think it's actually pretty healthy.
Whether it's a quick one-liner (like the time Kara responded, "Don't look in the mirror" when I complained about getting older), or the regular "scare tactic" (recently Kara placed a horrible, ugly mask in the kitchen cupboard right before she asked me, rather innocently, to get her a glass of water). We've learned to laugh at each other . . . more importantly . . . we're learning to laugh at ourselves.
Laughter has been the tangible expression of grace in our marriage.
26 March 2008
The Queen of One-Liners Lives in My House
Josh: "Kara. Ever since I turned 29, I feel old. Every time I look in the mirror, it's like I don't recognize myself. It's got me down and depressed."
Kara: "Really? I'm sorry honey."
Josh: "Yeah . . . ahh . . . what should I do? I'm down. "
Kara: "Don't look in the mirror."
Kara: "Really? I'm sorry honey."
Josh: "Yeah . . . ahh . . . what should I do? I'm down. "
Kara: "Don't look in the mirror."
02 December 2007
Covenant
This weekend, our small group spent three days with several other couples at a marriage retreat in Grand Haven, Michigan. Our retreat was hosted at the Khardoma Lodge. This bed and breakfast, located some three hundred yards from Lake Michigan, was built in 1873--just ten years after the conclusion of America's Civil War.
On the whole, I've found much of the literature related to marriage analogous to cotton candy. For the first three bites, cotton candy is great. After those few bites, you begin to ask yourself, "What am I eating here . . . air?" So much of the literature, Christian and non-Christian notwithstanding, focuses on the selfish desires and destructive patterns already embedded within our souls. For instance, as important as "his needs, her needs" approaches might be--it is easily twisted into an I'd-better-get-what-I-want attitude that resembles the heart of a child and not that of a saint.
Instead of starting with this question, "How can I grow deeper in my own spirituality (i.e. contentment, selflessness, simplicity, honesty)?"—we turn relationships into yet another narcissistic pursuit, consumed with the way my spouse should contribute to my shallow happiness.
This weekend, we traded the cotton candy for steak and potatoes. There are a thousand moments lodged into my head as I write.
Two couples, who came on this retreat as their "last attempt" to reconcile their marriage, worked through years of pain and hurt, coming to a place of understanding and hope.
My high school football coach was there with his wife. We caught up on old friends and recalled highlight experiences. When I hear his voice, some twelve years later, my body wants to fall to the ground and do twenty push-ups. For the record, I did not indulge this premonition.
Kara and I had a host of meaningful conversations and funny moments: all of which I'll keep between the two of us.
I'm chewing on what our spiritual leader fed us with concerning the purpose of marriage as understood from the Genesis narrative. "God created marriage for three specific purposes. First, to remind us that we were created as reflectors of the divine image. Second, marriage functions to heal the wounds of our childhood. Abandonment, isolation, terror, hunger, pain, pressure, and identity-confusion once consumed our development. Man and woman coming together addresses the destructive patterns we instilled to numb the pain of our hearts. Lastly, marriage is a taste of God's new heaven and earth; the day when all will eat at 'the supper of the Lamb.'"
The weekend ended appropriate enough.
At 12:15 p.m. I handed a piece of bread to Kara saying words I've spoken so many times, "The body of Christ, broken for you." Then, after a few seconds, I handed her the drink, "The blood of Christ shed for you." She did likewise and we prayed for God's spirit to continue guiding our steps.
If that statistics are accurate, one out of every two marriage will end in divorce. Families ripped apart. Hearts broken. Dreams dashed.
How much more counter-cultural can one be than spending time focusing on the covenant that binds two people for life?
A friend of mine is remembered for saying, "If you want to change the world, love your wife.”I used to think this to be a, well . . . exaggerated sentiment. I'm beginning to think that my friend might be on to something important; something holy.
On the whole, I've found much of the literature related to marriage analogous to cotton candy. For the first three bites, cotton candy is great. After those few bites, you begin to ask yourself, "What am I eating here . . . air?" So much of the literature, Christian and non-Christian notwithstanding, focuses on the selfish desires and destructive patterns already embedded within our souls. For instance, as important as "his needs, her needs" approaches might be--it is easily twisted into an I'd-better-get-what-I-want attitude that resembles the heart of a child and not that of a saint.
Instead of starting with this question, "How can I grow deeper in my own spirituality (i.e. contentment, selflessness, simplicity, honesty)?"—we turn relationships into yet another narcissistic pursuit, consumed with the way my spouse should contribute to my shallow happiness.
This weekend, we traded the cotton candy for steak and potatoes. There are a thousand moments lodged into my head as I write.
Two couples, who came on this retreat as their "last attempt" to reconcile their marriage, worked through years of pain and hurt, coming to a place of understanding and hope.
My high school football coach was there with his wife. We caught up on old friends and recalled highlight experiences. When I hear his voice, some twelve years later, my body wants to fall to the ground and do twenty push-ups. For the record, I did not indulge this premonition.
Kara and I had a host of meaningful conversations and funny moments: all of which I'll keep between the two of us.
I'm chewing on what our spiritual leader fed us with concerning the purpose of marriage as understood from the Genesis narrative. "God created marriage for three specific purposes. First, to remind us that we were created as reflectors of the divine image. Second, marriage functions to heal the wounds of our childhood. Abandonment, isolation, terror, hunger, pain, pressure, and identity-confusion once consumed our development. Man and woman coming together addresses the destructive patterns we instilled to numb the pain of our hearts. Lastly, marriage is a taste of God's new heaven and earth; the day when all will eat at 'the supper of the Lamb.'"
The weekend ended appropriate enough.
At 12:15 p.m. I handed a piece of bread to Kara saying words I've spoken so many times, "The body of Christ, broken for you." Then, after a few seconds, I handed her the drink, "The blood of Christ shed for you." She did likewise and we prayed for God's spirit to continue guiding our steps.
If that statistics are accurate, one out of every two marriage will end in divorce. Families ripped apart. Hearts broken. Dreams dashed.
How much more counter-cultural can one be than spending time focusing on the covenant that binds two people for life?
A friend of mine is remembered for saying, "If you want to change the world, love your wife.”I used to think this to be a, well . . . exaggerated sentiment. I'm beginning to think that my friend might be on to something important; something holy.
23 October 2007
Random Marriage Story
One of my favorite aspects of being married (to Kara) are the humorous moments shared between husband and wife. Most are best kept between each other.
However, occasionally, an experience happens that is too good not to share with friends.
Last night, about midnight, a large section of our bedroom window fell off just missing my face by a few inches. Kara was completely asleep. I had just dozed off. I thought someone was breaking into our house. I jumped out of bed, ready for drama. My heart pounded. Adrenaline flowed throughout my entire body.
After a few seconds of being dazed and confused, I realized I'd been the victim of laziness. We just had new windows put in and Kara did not properly seal one of the panels over the top of the window.
Kara woke up from a deep sleep to utter these words under the emotion of great giggling, "I was afraid that might happen."
And with that, she laughed so hard, I could not help but laugh myself.
When I came home from work, the panel was still lying next to bed. Taunting me. Mocking me.
However, occasionally, an experience happens that is too good not to share with friends.
Last night, about midnight, a large section of our bedroom window fell off just missing my face by a few inches. Kara was completely asleep. I had just dozed off. I thought someone was breaking into our house. I jumped out of bed, ready for drama. My heart pounded. Adrenaline flowed throughout my entire body.
After a few seconds of being dazed and confused, I realized I'd been the victim of laziness. We just had new windows put in and Kara did not properly seal one of the panels over the top of the window.
Kara woke up from a deep sleep to utter these words under the emotion of great giggling, "I was afraid that might happen."
And with that, she laughed so hard, I could not help but laugh myself.
When I came home from work, the panel was still lying next to bed. Taunting me. Mocking me.
28 September 2007
My sister-in-law read this at my sister's wedding last month. Kara is going to read it this weekend at the wedding of her college roommate, Emily Kirk. I think it is simple yet true.
Why is it that people get married?
Because we need a witness to our lives.
There’s a billion people on the planet (actually six billion plus)
What does any one life really mean?
But in a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything…
The good things, the bad things,
All of it… all the time, every day.
You’re saying “Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it.
Your life will not go unwitnessed - because I will be your witness.”
Why is it that people get married?
Because we need a witness to our lives.
There’s a billion people on the planet (actually six billion plus)
What does any one life really mean?
But in a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything…
The good things, the bad things,
All of it… all the time, every day.
You’re saying “Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it.
Your life will not go unwitnessed - because I will be your witness.”
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