Anticipation

Last night, after a whirlwind trip to attend Nana L.'s funeral service, we rushed to church to watch this year's Christmas program.  We had been waiting to see the play for months now.  Each Monday night for the last several weeks, Dave would quickly finish his dinner and leave for play practice, returning with bright eyes and words of praise for the other cast members.  With high hopes, we entered the church and took our seats.  And we weren't disappointed.  The play itself was funny enough, and the scenery, lighting, and sound were top-notch, but the cast really brought the show to life.  As a side note, our assistant pastor directed the play, and she has the gift of expectation.  She invites people into something greater than they can most times picture for themselves.  I'm convinced this quality called and required people to perform in ways they never thought possible.  It was a joy-filled time for me, a picture of church acquaintances and friends in their element and having so much fun as they told the Christmas story with carefully-crafted facial expressions, vocal inflections, and timing.

All good things take time and patience.  A line that Nana included in a letter she wrote to me while I was a college student, it was likely in response to some fears that I had at that point in my life...fears about my future...and mostly the fear that I wouldn't date or get married.  While my Nana was super-talented in multiple areas, I don't remember her being quick to dispense life advice, which was why this written wisdom was especially meaningful to me.  And boy, was she right.  I was waiting and waiting for the right man to enter my life.  Sometimes I waited with hope.  Most times, I feared that the very thing I longed for would never happen.  All along, the man waited for, the one I would marry, was there, and I had absolutely no idea.  First, he was just another member of our campus church group.  Then he became a (very funny and thoughtful) good friend of my sister's.  Next he decided to lead a Bible study on campus, and I was assigned to coach the Bible study leaders.  He was the troublesome one who wanted to break all of the Bible study rules.  I was the uptight one putting him in his place.  We will never be friends, I thought.  But then, the unthinkable happened: I observed him and grew to respect him and enjoy him, and apparently, he began to respect and enjoy me too.  I invited him to my work holiday party.  He threw snowballs at my window and left me thoughtful notes on my car.  He went running with me.  I sat with him as he attempted to complete school projects.  Our relationship was rising up.  It was growing, even blossoming.  I was hopeful.  Could this be the one I was waiting for?  Was our relationship one of the good things that my Nana wrote about?

As I type this, I'm waiting for some bread dough to rise.  Making bread doesn't seem to require any special skill or talent.  Really, you just need the ability to wait.  You mix the dough together and let it sit for hours.  Then you form the dough into a loaf and you let it sit some more.  Next you bake it for a while and let it sit until it's cool enough to slice.  Act, wait, act, wait.  It's hard though...the waiting, that is.  I'm hungry, and I know that the bread is good.  But the waiting makes the bread that much better.  I watched you rise up.  I smelled you as you were baking.  I longed for you.  I desired you.  And the longing and desire make you taste even better, even more satisfying, than what I could have imagined.

Note to self

Today, Dave and I celebrate our eighth wedding anniversary!  Sometimes, I wish I could go back in time and give some advice to my younger self; I want to tell her how it really is.

One of the things I would tell younger Lori is that marriage is a lot like running a marathon. 

Surrounded by a crowd of friends and family, you make promises, celebrate the new thing that is about to happen, and then you're pronounced husband and wife.  And you're off.  The race has begun.  You have lots of people happy for you and cheering you on, at least in the beginning.  Everything feels new and fresh.  Your feet don't hurt, and you're not impacted by the weather.  You're ready to take on whatever hill or cramp or hardship may come your way.  You're in the honeymoon phase.  There's no fighting.  Nothing can get you down.

After you've been at it for a while, some old injuries and hurts begin to resurface, affecting your attitude and running and relating.  You plow through the pain and discouragement.  But then you feel thirsty and hungry, at least until you reach the next water stop, where you are blessed and refreshed for a time with gatorade and power bars.  Next come obstacles with names Loneliness, Boredom, and Distraction.  And then you hit the wall, where you are tested to see how much you want this race or this marriage.

You almost always start a marathon expecting to make it to the finish line, but sometimes, things don't go as planned, and the race ends in an unexpected way.  You choose to give up, or the race ends early due to a medical condition, or a betrayal, or death.

But there are blessings along the way.  An unexpected conversation...a new friendship forms as the miles tick by.  A friend cheers or speaks words of honesty or prays for you at just the right time.  Or you're having an "on" running day...the miles fly by and you're feeling great...things seem effortless for a time.  You're feeling strong and that you have what you need to keep at it.  And you see the finish line in this distance and remember that all of the hard work and difficult choices impact more than just you; it's worth it for your kids and sometimes even for people you've never met.  Your choices and relationships can affect people in a different time and place.

When I think of marriage, one of the things that I remember is some wise advice that the mother of a very dear friend of mine gave to my friend as she was making some decisions about dating and marriage.  She encouraged my friend to "run" as quickly as she could toward Jesus and then look to see who was running with her to determine who would make a good husband.  Today, I'm feeling so very grateful to be running this race with Dave.  I hope we're running an ultra-marathon.  Happy anniversary David!  I love you!

(The photo is me in my wedding gown running down the steps of the church where we were married.  I even had running shoes on!  The photo was not taken on our wedding day;  Dave shot this in May 2009 for a school project.  We got some interesting and confused looks from neighbors that day!)