Twenty years ago tonight I walked into the Medical Sciences Library on the campus of IUPUI to meet my wife. Actually, I didn't know she would become my wife. I had never seen her before. It was a "blind date". To be completely honest, I sent my roommate in first to scope the place out. In retrospect, that may not have been the smartest thing to do... But everything worked out, anyway.
When I say "everything worked out", I don't mean it in the "there is a plan for us and one person for each of us" sort of way or in the "every single thing is orchestrated" kind of way. I know far too little to be confident about such things, and some of the things that have happened in our life together wouldn't be in any plans I would have drawn. So, I say "everything worked out" in a much more simple way. I got the girl. But it really isn't that simple. Because, you see, I got the girl, and so much more.
Obviously, I can't begin to capture twenty years of a relationship in a blog post, or a few pictures, or a song or two, and I won't try to do that here. This post is merely a moment's reflection on the beginning of our life together, and the head spinning wonder I am left with twenty years later. The Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard said, "life must be lived forward, but can only be understood backwards." I agree with half of that. I am not sure how much I understand looking back. I love it, and am so grateful for it, but I don't understand it.
The time slips away so secretly, it is disorienting. I didn't realize it had been twenty years (Don't tell Holly. She rarely reads the blog.) until the twentieth anniversary edition of U2's Achtung Baby was announced. That CD was originally released three weeks after we met, on 11.19.1991. I listened to it constantly those first few months we dated. I would make the drives from my apartment at 3218 Nobscot Drive to 2129 Fisher Street, her house in Speedway, and back listening to it over and over. Little did I know that twenty years later those songs would still mean so much to me, and she would mean everything to me.
On the way to see U2 in Chicago
Let me be clear, when I say "she means everything to me", I am not sure I know what I mean. I know I don't mean merely, that she "represents" everything, or without her I couldn't go another day (though I don't want to try), or that her presence in my life simply points to a greater reality that exists. Because in many ways, I believe that a greater reality doesn't exist. This is reality, and I don't think we realize how great it is. When people ask me if I believe in love, and grace, and forgiveness, and beauty, and truth... I can't separate myself from the life I have lived with her for twenty years. Of course I do. Again, as clearly as I can see it and say it right now, Holly doesn't only represent these things to me that therefore exist in some abstract world. She is the primary means and mechanism (though certainly not the only one) through which I know, experience, and receive these things. When I most need forgiveness and grace, she is there. Watching her live is to watch love and beauty in real time.
A couple of years ago I taped the lyrics to Mysterious Ways, a song on Achtung Baby, to the wall next to my desk in my office. I put them there to remind me, in a way similar to Kierkegaaard's quote, that the view forward may look uncertain, but the view back may hold a bit less anxiety, a little less fear, and a bit more... well, a bit more goodness. The song, like many of U2's, mixes religious and spiritual symbolism with women and love. When I was younger I thought it was cool how they would hide the true spiritual stuff in the middle of these love songs that millions of people would listen to and sing.
Now twenty years later, I think maybe the truth wasn't as hidden or as "spiritual" as I thought it was. I find it a bit ironic that on those drives over to Holly's place twenty years ago I was listening to songs about the love between people, and thinking I was smart because I knew they were really about the love of God. All the while, I was falling in love with the woman who would become the means and mechanism of God's love for me, and for others right in front of me, through much of my life. So now, twenty years later, I see the love of God most clearly as love between and among people. Is this song about the spirit of God or is it about love? I now answer "yes".
Holly was out of town this weekend visiting her mom, who moved back to Indiana following her cancer treatment. While she was gone I was struck by how much different my life seems when she is away. There is something deep in the rhythm of my days that misses her, and I can only sense it. I told her that I realize lately that there is something in me that is comforted, centered, soothed, motivated, and satisfied by having her part of my life. I can't explain it but I see it a bit more. It is, like the song says, a bit mysterious.
Which brings me back to Halloween. Tonight, as per tradition, our boys will dress up and go around the neighborhood getting candy. After that, we will come home and hand out candy (even re-gifting some) for a while. Later the kids will go to bed and Holly and I will talk about that night twenty years ago that we went to T.G.I. Friday's and began a life together. I love the fact that we met on a day that is easy for me to remember, not because it keeps me out of trouble (no chance of that), but because it allows me to stop every year and look back. And that again brings me to the song, and the verse I highlighted a few years ago...
Yesterday, I was sitting in my office between patients. I was watching and listening to this.
(push play and keep reading).
I had the volume up in my earbuds as I shuffled papers, reviewed charts, and signed various documents. My associate, Justin (ten years younger than I am) sat across the desk from me shuffling papers and signing charts while he listened to something on his computer about the economy and politics. Every so often the earbuds would come out and he would share interesting tidbits with me about the history of the FED, or things he had learned about the CPI, or this or that presidential candidate. Out of the blue, he told me that he has noticed that as he gathers new information each day his views or ideas change a little bit. He confessed that he realizes he is like most people in this way, no better or worse than others, "just human" (his words not mine). One day he might find that he strongly agrees with the ideas of a certain person or candidate and that later he may find he feels a bit differently about things.
The way he sees "things" changes, some days just slightly and slowly.
As he shared this with me, I couldn't help thinking about how this compares to my job, and, my life. I was sitting in the middle of a typical day at my office, doing what I typically do. On Thursday afternoons I see folks that have had surgery to improve their vision. If all has gone well, they tell me how different the world looks and how things seem so much better than what they had gotten used to. Most tell me that before treatment things had changed so slowly they weren't really aware of it, until something made them realize they couldn't see as well as they wanted. But then, after treatment, the change seemed dramatic. Many find that not only can they see the thing they struggled with better, but everything looks much more vivid. Most say everything looks so much brighter and the world looks more colorful.
As I was thinking about this, Justin pulled out one of his earbuds. His cellphone was ringing, and as he picked it up I could hear his words mixed with the music. His facial expression changed and he flashed a large smile. His voice changed with his expression to talk to Garron, his two year old, in "daddy talk". Through my earbuds, I couldn't hear everything, but I could make out, "You took a nap in your big boy bed, oh, way to go buddy! ... I am so proud of you! I love you... okay...Tell Mommy I'll see you in a little bit...Bye bye". The earbud went back in and he went back to the business at hand. I glanced at him over the top of my computer,
and I wondered if his worldview had just changed.
My mind started to focus on the faces of my three boys and the days of "big boy beds" not so long ago. Big boy beds, footie pajamas, bedtime stories, and tickle games interrupted my thoughts, and memories played like a music video to the song in my earbuds. Meanwhile, Bono started singing Latin and getting louder. As I listened to him singing I thought, I don't know what these words mean (even though I have Googled it before), but it is beautiful. I could make out L'amore...Love. My heart was beating a bit harder and my chest felt a bit heavy.
As I listened, and remembered, I realized that to me the world now looks so much brighter and more colorful. Day after day, our worldview can slowly change as we accumulate facts, information, and experiences. But occasionally, and I hope frequently, love will dramatically put things in a much different, much better, much brighter perspective. Somehow things look so much better than what we have gotten used to. I hope that this is what occurs for all of us, being "just human". And I hope it continues. I don't know what causes these changes in life. I don't know how it happens.
I don't know what it means... but it is beautiful.
Okay. so you don't have to google it, here is the translation. You say that the river finds the way to the sea and like the river you will come to me beyond the borders and the dry lands You say that like a river like a river... the love will come the love... And i don't know how to pray anymore and in love i don't know how to hope anymore and for that love i don't know how to wait anymore
We spent a couple of nights this past weekend in Ruidoso, New Mexico. Some friends of ours let us stay at their vacation home. It was an awesome, but too short, getaway. None of us were ready to leave. I think we all somehow understand how special the time is when we can just be a family devoted to being together. Maybe these photos do a better job capturing this than my words can.
Last week was the annual South Plains Fair. Holly and I take the boys every year. We eat in the FUMC booth. We "win" a few goldfish with some tosses of pingpong balls. We, mostly the kids, ride a few rides, and we all share a funnel cake. We do it every year and the boys think it is life at its best. I remember having the same feeling at Jubilee Days back in Knightstown.
I snapped this shot with my phone on "armband night". Three cans of food and thirty-five bucks lets you ride all night. Clayton and Davis were riding the spinning big chair swing when I took this picture. Eli was standing with me, bravely fighting back tears, because he is not the required 48 inches tall to ride it, yet. Right after they finished this one, all five of us went over and road the Big Wheel in the distance.
Clayton and Holly had worked their shift at the FUMC youth fair booth. The fact that I just typed Clayton and "youth fair booth" blows me away. The days are absolutely flying by. Next year, Eli will be easily past 48 inches and riding the big chair swing. A few years later, Davis will be in the youth fair booth. Just a couple of blinks later, and it will be Eli in youth.
I am so grateful because I feel that recently I have been given a gift, the awareness or ability to see the beauty and significance of these days in real time. I have been given the perspective to see the significance of now. The days have taken on a significance that is greater than the fact that they are fleeting, numbered and limited. They have a depth and meaning simply because they are. Somehow, long ago, in my pursuit of whatever I had been pursuing, I had lost an appreciation for the importance, significance, and beauty of the present. I had long ago developed a posture of working toward something, some nebulous (or well-defined) "someday". What I had given up in the trade was an awareness of the depth, beauty and significance of the present and the people of the present, including myself.
Unfortunately, there were some other things that came along with this mindset. Once I bought the mindset that I was trying to become "something", I somehow also bought the corrolary that I wasn't yet "something". When I looked in the mirror and saw a guy who wasn't quite yet the picture of fitness, or a guy who wasn't yet full of patience, or a guy who still fights temptations of this or that variety, I internalized that this guy was far from who he "should" be. It was tough to walk away from the mirror without hearing a word of criticism (at its worst), or a pep talk to do better (at its best). Interestingly, I would then see others and everything in this way, and was quick to offer criticism or pep talks depending on how I "was doing".
This same viewpoint of my relationships occasionally created more stress. If things were going smoothly with Holly and the guys, it was manageable. But if things became difficult in any of these relationships (like, daily) then I would see the relationship and myself (and, at times, the other folks involved) as not being what we should be, and therefore being something we shouldn't. This realization added yet more anxiety and stress and sometimes created a downward spiral, it reinforced my own feelings of failure. I would find myself standing in front of the mirror asking (or thinking, but afraid to ask) the question "when will I be the person I am supposed to be?"
Somehow in the middle of all of this, I knew that life was good. I felt very fortunate, or blessed, and I felt lots and lots of love. I would have characterized my satisfaction with life, my marriage, my job, and my family to be very high. But I also was still working for "someday" when things would be, I would be, good, right, acceptable, and loved, the way I am supposed to be. This was essentially the description of what I call my mid-life crisis.
To that point, it had not occurred to me (in a way I could believe) that the answer to the question I asked of the mirror would come back in some way, "You always have been the person you are supposed to be. You are right now." I am coming to the place where I am believing that response. I think of Eli, fighting those tears of sadness at the fair and I can see him wishing he was 48 inches tall. I pray that he doesn't somehow turn that, as I have in my life, into thinking he "should be" 48 inches tall, and begin to see himself as less than the person he "should" be. Although, as I pray, I wonder if it is inevitable.
We all know that Eli is the height he is, there is no should to it. He just is 46 inches tall, and falls within two standard deviations of the mean height for a five-year old boy. Even if he didn't, there is nothing he can do about it. He just is. As he grows, he will gain the ability to do certain things with height requirements, and he will lose the ability to do other things that have certain height or weight restrictions. All the while, he will be whatever height he is, and he will be powerless to change that. In addition, he will be loved by Holly and I without regard to his height.
Over time he will grow, but for now, he is right where he is. Part of me reacts negatively to this even as I type it, but I wonder if this is not the best measure for myself, and all of us. Over time we will grow, but for now, we are where we are. I have believed that accepting myself as I am was a pretty sure way of preventing me from becoming better (and possibly the fastest way to become something bad). I do not believe this anymore. If Eli accepts himself as 46 inches, he will continue to grow to maturity. In fact, I believe I had reached a stalemate using the old criticism and pep talk technique. That is to say, it wasn't working, if by working I mean helping me become more like I desired to be. Loving myself as I am, or believing I am loved as I am, may be a far better way to enable future change. And I believe it is a far better way to live, right now.
I now believe that seeing ourselves as we are and calling that "good" might be the closest thing to the truth. As a matter of fact, now that I think about it, I remember someone else saw us and called us good, very good.
Needle and Haystack Life
The world begins
With newborn skin
We are right now
You’re a needle girl
In a haystack world
We are right now
You breathe it in
The highs and lows
We call it living
- Chorus -
In this needle and haystack life
I’ve found miracle’s there in your eyes
It’s no accident we’re here tonight
We are once in a lifetime
No, don’t let go
Don’t give up hope
All is forgiven
You breathe it in
The highs and lows
We call it living
All is not lost
All is not lost
Become who you are
It happens once in a lifetime
