Wanna hear a great love story? Boy meets girl. Girl doesn't like boy much. Boy asks girl to marry him. Girl says, "Yeah, why not?"
Okay, so maybe it wasn't quite that simple. There may be a few details I've neglected to include, but you get the gist of it! Basically, 23 years ago this month, I met an amazing gentleman (and I don't use the term lightly), we dated briefly, we were both hit by one of the strongest spiritual lightning bolts we'd ever felt, and we decided to align our destinies and make our union legal. There you have it. And, though every day hasn't felt like a fairy tale (well, maybe Cinderella on occasion, sweeping up ashes and soot, or Beauty and the Beast, though I'm not telling which one of us played which role....), we are living our happily ever after. He is the milk to my cookie, the cheese to my macaroni, the frosting to my cupcake.... forgive me, I'm hungry! The point is, while he likes to tell me that he feels lucky to have me, it is I who won the lottery all those years ago.
My best friend's daughter and my daughter's best friend (they are one and the same) is getting married this week. She's only 19, so young to be making a serious commitment. And I fear for her. One day, she may wake up and find that not only does she not know the guy whose head rests on the pillow next to hers, she doesn't like him. It's a common tale. Happens all the time. She hasn't known him six months, and from what I've observed, the attraction is very strong, and very physical. And I realize how judgmental I'm being, and hypocritical. I knew my husband 3 weeks before we got engaged. 3 weeks. We got engaged on our third date. However, I was 28, he was 32, we'd both been around the block a few times, and we had learned a thing or two. At least that's what I tell myself.
The reality of it is that we got lucky. He could have turned out to be an axe murderer. I could have turned out to have really bad housekeeping skills. Oh, wait, that one's actually true. Nevermind, the point is that we knew next to nothing about each other, and we rushed our engagement so we could have sex. Sorry to be so blunt, but it's the truth. We knew we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together, and we were physically attracted to each other, and we wanted to marry in the Mormon temple, which meant no sex before the big night. So, a little over 3 months after we met, we were married. And, as it turns out, we became really great friends. There is no one on earth I'd rather spend an afternoon with, no one else I'd share my french fries with (hungry, remember?), nobody else I'd trust with all of my secrets. He is my best friend, my pal, my one true love, my density (see Back to the Future). He's the syrup to my pancakes. Alright, I'll go eat something!
So, how did we get so lucky? My parents recently celebrated 55 years of marriage, and my mom and I have had many conversations on this topic. She also feels lucky to be with my dad. She says blessed, I say it's semantics. Blessed, lucky. I guess it depends on one's philosophy of life. I have a hard time calling it blessed, knowing the implication that God intervened and that's why I ended up with such a great marriage. If that's true, why didn't God intervene in my best friend's courtship and tell her that her intended would turn out to be an a**hole? That he would break her heart after over 25 years of marriage? That he would leave her financially and emotionally devastated and run off into the sunset with his girlfriend? Why? I know I'm not more deserving of a good man's love; I'm not a better person, not kinder, not more spiritually fit. The religious answer, at least the Mormon version, has me somehow earning a better life by my pre-earthly choices. But I'm not satisfied with that answer. At all. And I don't have a better one to offer. The truth is, I just don't know why. Lucky, I guess.
So, as young Sarah joins her life this week with whom I hope is the love of her life, I wish for her luck. Luck, patience, tolerance, forgiveness, compassion, generosity. And a guy who will run out to the store and buy polish sausages and fresh Lee's buns for dinner if that is what she craves. Like my guy did tonight. He's the best, and I'm the luckiest girl on earth.
Addendum: Hyperbole is a useful tool when attempting to illustrate a point. It becomes a hindrance to communication when the person to whom it was applied reads it, and objects on the grounds that it paints a picture that isn't representative of their reality, or their side of the story. For this, I apologize.
However, I stand by my original point. Many people claim a supreme being brought their love into existence; I still believe it's luck. And sometimes that luck is bad. Which doesn't mean the two people involved were bad, but that maybe they were not as good a match as originally believed.
In other words, God doesn't deserve the credit, or the blame, for love gone wrong. We do that all on our own.
What do they say, life is about the journey, not the destination. I too married at 19, and life hasn't always been easy, and sometimes I look at my husband and LOVE him to pieces, and other times I wonder, who is this man I'm laying next to? (Okay, well that was probably during my 7 yr itch time, lol) For now, let her have her happiness. Who knows what the future holds for any of us.
ReplyDeleteLucky verses blessed. This is an old, and to me, a very tired argument. It goes something like this: “If God doesn't bless everyone in exactly the same way, then he a) doesn't exist, or b) doesn't care enough to intervene in our lives at all.” It's an all-or-nothing proposition. I may pray for the recovery of a loved one who is ill, the loved one recovers, and I praise/thank God. Another person who hears my praise/thanks is offended because they had a loved one who fell ill, they prayed, and the loved one died. Ergo, there is no God, or God doesn't care.
ReplyDeleteWell, nobody's making any assumptions there. Nope, none at all.
I believe in God, and I believe he has answered a number of my prayers with the things I requested. I also believe he has not answered a number of my prayers with things I've requested. To conclude that God must either answer all prayers all the time, or none at all, is to impute to ourselves the characteristic of “omniscience.” It also displays a gross impatience.
First, how can anyone pretend to know what God's intentions/plans are in regard to all aspects of their life? I believe God knows more about us and what we need than we know for ourselves. If he knows more than we do (I know I'm going out on a limb here), then it stands to reason that when he acts (or intervenes) we will not always understand why. Conversely, when he chooses not to intervene, we will not always understand why.
For those who believe we were sent to this earth to be tested, this patterns fits perfectly. How can we be tested if we're not required to exercise faith? And how can we exercise faith if everything is always apparent to us?
In short, I can thank God for what he has given me and still accept that he won't always give me what I want, and won't always give others what they want or seem to need.
I never thought that had anything to do with how I exercised my agency before coming here.