Lucky Seven

Part of the Mary Moment Monday series

He maintains, to this day, that he never actually asked me to marry him. What he did, while we were making the Long Walk after he picked me up from the airport following my grandmother’s funeral in Chicago, was reach over, a ring in his hand.

Was he looking down at me? Was there a shimmer in his eye? Was the evening more beautiful than usual?

I don’t know. Honestly. I wish I could give you those details, but the shock of seeing a sparkling diamond in his hands was too much.

All he said was, “Will you wear something for me?” We kept walking, my right hand in his left, University Hall coming up on our right and the Main Library ahead, William Oxley Thompson towering in front.

“But I TOLD YOU not to get me a ring!” I sputtered as I slid it on my finger.

Or did I just think that?

Again, I don’t know. (It wouldn’t be beyond me to have actually said it.)

It was July and we were on the Ohio State campus. He had told me we were stopping so that he could get a dose of inspiration. He was considering, seriously, at last, beginning his college career. It was a scary proposition for him. He had been working at his job for 15 years or so, and he was doing pretty okay with it. This was a biiiiiig change, one that I had been encouraging him to try.

We were married in our little parish church four months later. We had been courting for years, so though it was a short engagement, there was no surprise for anyone. It was Thanksgiving weekend, and there were snow flurries the day of our wedding.

Earlier this year, I learned, as I researched feast days around our newest baby’s due date, that November 29 is a Marian feast, the feast of Our Lady of Beauraing. I’m still shaking my head at that: it’s like I’m tied to Mary more than I ever knew, even in this most joyful of unions, my marriage.

I guess it’s no surprise I’ve gotten even more obsessed with Mary in the last couple of months, huh? :)

Today, it’s with a grateful heart that I think about the seven years I’ve spent with my hand still in his. He’s still the Prince Charming he was when he swept me off my feet 11 years ago, and he still surprises me, amuses me, and entertains me. He told me once that he was sure that being married to me would never be dull.

I don’t know what I did to deserve the blessing he is in my life, but not a day goes by where I don’t thank God for the gift he is and the many joys he brings to my life.

Happy Anniversary, honey! Here’s to many more years!

*This picture is my favorite picture of the two of us. It was taken by our good friend and very talented photographer Heather Claypool, and captures the essence of our wedding…and our marriage, I think.

The Wisdom of a Rabbit, by Christine Johnson

I’ve gotten to know Christine Johnson, who blogs at Domestic Vocation and can also be found on Twitter, over the years, but I don’t remember when we first “met;” I think it had to do with the Catholic Carnivals of days gone by.

As a youngish wife, I really appreciate Christine’s thoughts today and hope you find them to be as edifying and encouraging as I do!

Early in my marriage, I heard some advice that I scoffed at (a bit) initially. “Never, EVER say a negative thing about your husband in front of another person!”

“Never?” I thought.  “Seriously?”

At the time, we were in network marketing, and some of the women I admired had decided to take this advice to heart.  So I decided to try it, too.

It turned out to be easier than I thought. My husband and I heard a similar message over our years in the organization: speak well of your spouse – and only well – when in the company of others.

Since then, this piece of advice has become so much a part of our mindset that if I am about so say something non-edifying about my husband – something I will only do with family and a few of our closet friends – I start with the qualifying, “Nathan is so fantastic as a husband/father, but sometimes …”

How it affects us

This attitude affects how I see my husband. Because I speak well of him so consistently, it means I am always looking for the positive in him and his actions.  I stop seeing the negative things.  Does this mean that I don’t notice *any* of the things that might bug me?  Heck, no.  I’m human.  But I don’t see it first, that’s for sure.

When I do see something that bugs me, I tend to follow the advice of that great sage, Thumper’s father: “If you can’t say nuthin’ nice, don’t say nuthin’ at all.” When talking to my friends, I keep those little peevish things to myself. I practice charity in my speech and attitude towards him.

And, because I’ve been bragging on him to my friends, those very same things come out at home – as compliments I pass on to him. What really is wonderful about this in our relationship is that I discovered that we have particular “love languages.”  His turned out to be words of praise; he thrives on being told he’s doing a good job, especially from me.  Keeping this attitude of edification towards my husband has the added benefit of making sure he knows how much I love him.

How it affects our family

Since I’m already in the habit of speaking well of my husband to others, it’s only natural that I do so with my children, as well. My girls think their father hangs the moon.  He is their image of the Father, and their image … well, it rocks!  And as they get older, they’ll be on the lookout for someone like him.  That would be fantastic, as far as I’m concerned.  I tell them all the time that if they marry someone who’s half the man their father is, they’ll be doing great.  (But why settle?  Find someone just as good – if you can!)

Because I’m not complaining, I see my husband in this positive light, too.  If all I did was dwell on his shortcomings, eventually it would be all I see. Pretty soon, there could be some other man (whose shortcomings I’m not privy to) who is “so much better.”  But to me, because I’m focused on my husband’s positives, I’ve got little room to even think about someone else’s!  And because this all serves to make our relationship stronger, it makes our home more stable and secure for our children.

How others see us

My friends think he’s a great guy. I think so, too, but I can tell you that there have been times when I wonder about some of my friends’ husbands.  You see, I don’t see the husbands frequently in our homeschool environment, so each wife’s depiction of her spouse is all I have to go on.  If the only thing someone hears about your husband is negative complaints, how will people see him?  What will they think of him?

Because he does the same for me, the people in his office think I can do no wrong, either. For someone with insecurity issues (…ahem…), this is great.  It’s like a head start in the “Looking Like a Dork” Olympics.  I look good *way* longer than I would on my own because he’s given me such a build-up in front of his friends and coworkers.  It takes much longer for my inner dork to completely blot out all awesomeness Nathan has told everyone I have.  And by that time, I think they might know me well enough that they’ll like me anyway.

People know we’re happy! Some of the people I know are probably happy, but I’m never sure.  I wonder what (aside from their knowledge of the Sacrament of Matrimony and their adherence to the Faith) keeps them together.  I’ve been acquainted with some families where I hear absolutely nothing nice at all about the husband from the wife.  Nothing.  It’s so very difficult to form an opinion on someone you don’t see frequently when the connection you have (their spouse) seems only able to complain about him.  It’s quite discouraging, to be honest.

My recommendation for YOU

I am sure that some people reading this have been married a while.  If I’d heard this advice for the first time now (nearly 17 years into our marriage) instead of as we were starting our marriage, it probably would be a different story.  I was blessed to hear this at such a young age.

If you’ve been married a while and know you’re in the habit of complaining about your spouse, go back to the sage advice of the Wise Rabbit. Think carefully about how your discussions about and descriptions of your spouse make him look to others.  Don’t save the Golden Rule just for the people outside your family – put it in practice for them first!  Start searching for what’s good about your spouse – you know it’s there; you *did* get married, after all! – and then do two things with that information:

1. Tell him!
2. Brag about him to others!

That’s really all there is to it.  Look, you got married for a reason.  You saw something that you liked.  Think about what that was.  Think about the good things that are keeping you together.  Start small, if necessary.  Thank him for something small he did, even if it’s as small as working hard all week or filling the car with gas.  Thank him!

Then remember this:

If you love your spouse, everyone should know it.  Don’t keep it a secret!

The Mary Factor

Part of the Mary Moment Monday series

Father’s Day was over a week ago, but it’s still very much on my mind. Maybe it’s because the piece I penned about seeing Mary in my husband is up today at Faith & Family Live.

Though my husband maintains that Mother’s Day is my day, I think he’s wrong. I think I get as much — or more — fun out of watching him on Father’s Day. This year, the girls crawled all over him and the five-year-old triumphantly handed him decorated packages. Both of them “helped” him open them and then they “helped” him eat the candy inside too. (What dad doesn’t need chocolate for Father’s Day?)

So many times, I fail to appreciate many of the quieter attributes of my husband. He’s not the kind of guy to stand up and demand attention. He is just as happy sitting in silence as he is holding a conversation, and many times, I’ll admit, I choose the book in my hand over the man at my side.

In his example, I’ve learned about the importance of silence, and I’ve also seen him walk the talk as far as thinking before speaking. I don’t think an ill-considered word ever leaves his mouth. When he’s angry, he seems to have some sort of safety valve over his mouth (I’ve been trying to install one on my mouth for years).

From him, I’ve seen gentleness in action. I’ve seen the source of his gentleness too, rooted in his faith and his confidence in God’s will.

So, really, it was long overdue, this acknowledgment of how I see Mary in my husband.

Is it a love letter? Is it a bit of my romantic side coming through? Is it a glimpse at the man I love? Yes, it is. And I’m honored to be able to share it with you, because it’s also a tribute to my Heavenly Mother. Hope you enjoy it.

Guest Post: Make Me a May Crown, by Jeff Young

I’m honored to share this reflection on Mary by Jeff Young, who you may know from Catholic Foodie fame. It’s a joy to read his thoughts on Mary and a pleasure to be able to share them with you. Be sure to check out the Catholic Foodie and Jeff’s consulting business, Mac & Media.


Mary is really my mother. Really.

At 16 I had a powerful experience of God that showed me without a doubt that He was real and that all this Catholic stuff was real. That experience changed my life, and Mary was right there in the middle of it all.

I prayed the rosary daily. I was aware of Mary with me when I prayed. I talked to her during the day. But, oddly enough, I found it very difficult to relate to her.

I had put Mary on a pedestal. To me she was superhuman.

Mary wasn’t alone; I kept all my favorite saints on a pedestal. When I was in the seminary, at a time of intense discernment, when I was plagued with doubt and confusion about my vocation, I looked to the saints for encouragement and some sense of certainty. But I was terribly disappointed.

Why?

Because I wasn’t anything like them. I struggled with God, with faith, with discernment, with my vocation. In all the stories I read, the saints they were virtually perfect, superhuman. They did not suffer as I suffered. I simply could not relate to them.

I can see now that I was looking at the saints through the wrong pair of glasses. I was blinded by my suffering.

So what changed for me?

I have my wife Char to thank. She’s the one that showed me the real Mary. She doesn’t know that she did this for me. I’ve never told her. (Boy, will she be surprised when she reads this!)

Marriage is such a blessing. My biggest blessing, actually, because it shows me clearly my own humanity. Marriage has curbed my natural tendency toward perfectionism. I now know that God meets me right where I am, in all my human messiness.

Char showed me this. She bore my children. She delivered them, nursed them, held them, cared for them. And she did it all with strength and tenderness. And love.

Char’s example showed me that Mary is human. Mary bore Jesus. She gave birth. She nursed him, held him, cared for him. And she, too, did it with strength and tenderness. She did it with love… even (or especially) in the midst of suffering.

Mary is not on a pedestal. She is right here with me. In my suffering. In my weakness. In what seems to be constant failure. She wipes my cuts and tends my bruises. She helps me stand up after a fall. She hugs me and reminds me that God loves me just as I am, and that she loves me too. Like God, she wants me to grow up big and strong.

Knowing this makes all the difference in the world.

Thank you, Honey, for being a wonderful image and example of Mary to me. I am forever indebted to you. May Mary make my life a “May Crown” for you.

Mary, the Wife

Part of the Mary Moment Monday series

I have been reflecting on marriage a lot lately. In part, these reflections are inspired by the recent and unexpected death of my 38-year-old brother-in-law.

In the last two months, I’ve seen my own marriage in a different light.

It’s not a bad thing for me.  I have witnessed a lot of marital strife and a few divorces.  Taking time for my growing and evolving understanding of marriage is a good thing.

Lately, when I think of my widowed sister-in-law, I see Mary at the foot of the Cross.  Since her suffering is inspiring my introspection, it follows that I should look to Mary in her marriage.

Mary was, after all, a married woman, though too often we seem to forget that. Her marriage is so important that Joseph has a feast day just for his role as her husband (on March 19; read more about it at ChurchYear.net and Catholic Culture).

Mary was a woman with a devoted husband and father who predeceased her.  She knows, so well, the pain of burying a young husband, the grief of holding a sobbing child, the difficulty of returning to a new and strange version of normal.

What does this mean to me?  How can I learn from someone wracked with pain when I have it all: a happy life and a healthy husband?  Should I feel guilty?

The lesson, for me, is one of being open, of saying Yes.

Yes, God, I am Yours.  Yes, God, so is he.  Yes, God, I know Your will is better than mine (even if I don’t understand it or see the good you can bring from it).

In other news…

  • I had tons of fun on Saturday morning appearing on a Catholic Weekend that must have set some sort of record for longest-time-to-record-a-one-hour-show.  Listen in (if you dare).

Image source

Horrors of the Season

One Friday night recently, they sat on the couch together, her nose in a book, his eyes glued to a football game.

Out of nowhere, presumably in the interest of shaking things up a bit, he asked her, “Do you want a new dress for the company Christmas party?”

In a moment filled with sinking feelings, she realized she should have read the company party email more carefully to see where it would be held.

She knew he didn’t mean “You have nothing to wear that’s worthy of such an esteemed event” or even “I can’t be seen with someone who dresses like you.”  There was no doubt that he meant something like “You deserve a new dress” and “Here’s your chance to buy a little something special to wear.”

Nevertheless, as a die-hard tomboy, she felt panic rising quickly in her.  She was unable to concentrate on the book (which couldn’t have been the book’s fault).  She started thinking about the raves he had shared about his colleagues, and she started imagining their awesome wives.

“I’ll have to be sure to keep my mouth shut,” she blurted out.

He looked up, confused.  The team he was interested in had just scored or fumbled or something.

She had to face facts, and quickly. There was a little over a month before the company Christmas party.  She had zero fashion sense outside her comfort zone of jeans and cowboy boots.  Though she hated shopping almost as much as she hated wasps and creepy crawly bugs, there was no doubt that shopping would be involved.

Will our heroine find a dress that’s within her budget, that fits her right, and that she likes?  Will shoes be a possibility?  How about a coat that won’t look dorky and farm girlish over a stylish outfit?  You’ll have to stay tuned for the next installment…

What if…


…more people took this approach to the mid-life “I don’t love you” crisis that seems inevitable?

I’m inspired. I’m heartened. I’m touched. Divorce and love are topics that are dear to my heart, close in a way that few things are. I was never going to marry, you know. I was pretty sure it was an outdated, useless institution for religious types, and I was not a religious type, thankyouverymuch.

I’m married now, and I often battle with a demon in my mind, one that whispers about the greener grass, the impossible things I deal with (though I am married to a saint!), the crazy responsibilities getting in the way of what I’d rather be doing.

The question becomes, then, one of getting past my own selfishness. I once read a book by Ayn Rand called The Virtue of Selfishness. I can’t remember what was in that book, but I remember lending it to my dad and insisting that he would see the errors of his silly faith once he read it.

Right now, Dad’s having a hearty chuckle. And that’s OK with me.

The thing is, reading this article about one woman’s way of dealing with the words “I don’t love you anymore,” I see myself. Not in the woman…in the husband.

I’m just the type of person who could so easily just chuck it all out the window. Maybe it would be a result of a battle with depression, with a need to martyr myself and make the pain worse, with a desire to try something, well, easier.

Go on over and read this article, “Those Aren’t Fighting Words, Dear.” See if it doesn’t make you shake your head and maybe look at things a little differently.

I enjoyed Danielle Bean’s comments earlier, and I am heartened to see this article linked, well, all over the blogosphere this morning.

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