I Will Wait For You

As popular as it is right now, Mumford and Sons' I Will Wait frequently sticks in my head. This idea of waiting for the right person is a common and romantic theme in media. There is a suggestion that waiting for the the right person, known or unknown, will lead to a beautiful, albeit delayed, love.

"“...of all the hardships a person had to face none was more punishing than the simple act of waiting.”  ―Khaled Hosseini, A Thousand Splendid Suns

But what exactly are we waiting for? Commonly the idea of waiting for someone romantically insinuates one of two things: (1) The beloved is absent, such as in the instance of a typical WWII movie where the brave soldier goes to war while the pretty and worried beloved waits for him at home; (2) a body purity concern.

Waiting for an absent lover in our current society could be more readily portrayed in the form of long distance relationships where the partners are pulled apart from one another because of disparate career choices. Such partners have to deter other romantic possibilities as they wait to be reunited with their long-distance loves.

Waiting through absences is seen as romantic. What about waiting for a partner while remaining in his or her presence?

Sometimes waiting with a partner who is having emotional turmoil can be just as hard as waiting for an absent partner. Negative emotions are hard to carry in a relationship, and when life circumstances bring one partner down, the other suffers as well.

When life is hard partners don't always wait. In the documentary Happy one of the women interviewed reflects on a life-changing accident. The woman was run over by a truck, leaving her far less beautiful than she had been and bed ridden for many months. During this time of trial her husband didn't wait, instead choosing to leave her.

“Waiting hurts. Forgetting hurts. But not knowing which decision to take can sometimes be the most painful...” ― José N. Harris, MI VIDA

In the documentary, she regains strength, she meets a new man, and has a happier life than she had before her accident. Cheerful, kind, creative, and resilient, she was a woman worth waiting for, and her first husband missed out on learning the capacity of her spirit.

Would the first husband have waited the same amount of time as the recovery period (8 months if I remember correctly), had the months been spent apart for a career concern? Perhaps waiting for an absent partner is in some ways easier than waiting for a partner to regain strength after facing emotional or physical damage.

As I put my life plans on hold to wait for Owen to finish school, I like to think of songs like I Will Wait. It helps me to remember the value of this waiting period as we continue to build our relationship in preparation to pursue our life together.

"Blessings may appear under the shape of pains, losses, and disappointments; but let him have patience, and he will see them in their proper figures." ― Joseph Addison The Guardian 

Plan D

Plan A: Graduate from St. Olaf and enroll in grad school in Ft. Collins, CO in our respective fields.
Foiled: Owen was accepted to Iowa, but not Ft. Collins.

Plan B: Owen enters the PhD program in Iowa City, the following year I enter either the writing MFA program or the English PhD, and we buy a house.
Foiled: It turns out that you cannot apply to both the MFA program and the English PhD at the same time, which I only found after having applied to the impossible-to-get-into MFA program, which I didn't get into. Buying a house was more difficult than anticipated... Though we did eventually end up in a townhouse that we love.

Plan C: I work for a year and reapply to the MFA program. Owen's program progresses as usual.
Foiled: I again was not accepted to the MFA program. Owen's program proved entirely more difficult than expected.

Plan D: Go with the flow.

One of my favorite things about Iowa City:
The trees wear sweaters!

At times it feels like we have little to no control over how we spend our lives as financial, academic, emotional, and physical restraints keep us from achieving our plans. Yet, looking back, I am glad that so many of our plans didn't work. Had we both been accepted to Ft. Collins, we would be taking out student loans like crazy trying to pay for both school and rent, but the University of Iowa gives enough financial aid that we are actually paying back some debt. Besides finances, we've also discovered an interesting city full of creativity that we never knew existed. Had we not moved to Iowa, I would probably have never known about tree sweaters.

Also, living in Colorado would mean being much further away from our college friends, who have supported us and helped us through so much of the past two years.

Had we bought a traditional house, we would be in way over our heads by now, but our townhouse has fulfilled everything we wanted in a home without the stress of having to worry about the roof or the yard.

Though not getting into the MFA program was frustrating, I wouldn't trade my time working with the Arc for anything! Spending a year helping people with disabilities has made me a more patient, nurturing, and open person.

As much as we've felt like we didn't have control, we've certainly had to make plenty of choices. Confronted with difficulty, Owen had to choose to work his butt off fulfilling the requirements of his program. Faced with my own stumbling blocks, I've had to choose to keep trying new ways to find fulfillment.  By choosing to go with the flow, we've finally found a plan that can't get foiled.

We haven't entirely stopped making plans, but we don't necessarily think of our plans with the same urgency and anxiety to fulfill them. Now plans are merely a map of how to spend each day until something changes. My current plans of finding a job that allows me to use my bachelor's degree and pay off students loans has me applying to multiple jobs a week, as I simultaneously prepare to take on Arc shifts to pay the bills meanwhile.

I won't say that following Plan D is necessarily easy. The temptation to get this job or afford that item sometimes overwhelms the non-attachment attitude of going with the flow, but ultimately what else can we do? We have to choose to continue to keep moving forward no matter what does or doesn't work out for us. Until I know what I'm doing next, I'm going to keep writing, keep cooking, and maybe start learning some HTML... I don't have any concrete plans for the knowledge gained, but it can't hurt right?

Home in Colowasota

After a brief hiccup with my work schedule, I am set to leave for Colorado in three days! I ready myself to venture to my homeland with plans to spend time with family and friends, scatter Rascal's ashes, explore settings for my writing, and breath Colorado air.

Owen and I hoped to leave for Colorado together, but as often happens with the PhD program, he has to stay in Iowa City to take a class. Relief and Anxiety compete for my attention. After battling a complex and volatile schedule, I am lucky that the details are finally fixed down, but leaving without Owen will be strange. 

I have known Owen for only six years, and my parents have known him for only three, but he has become a significant member of our family. He fills gaps that we didn't know existed until he made us a little more whole.  Owen has built a website for my dad's business, golfed with my grandfather, discussed academic pursuits with my sister, and taught us all about psychology. We joke that Owen is the favorite at my family's house. 

I've spent more time in Colorado without Owen than with him, and yet next week he will be a missing piece of our home.  

Six years ago I would have never imagined that Owen and I would have a house together in Iowa. The past few days I have been working through my pre-trip to-do list: make sure that all of Owen's laundry is clean, that he has all the food he needs, that the house is clean for him, etc. As I work to care for Owen and our house, it is clear that I am home in Iowa City also.

My life is now split between Colorado, Minnesota, and Iowa. Though I often feel homesick for Colorado (usually accompanied by cravings for Mexican food, chai, sunlight, and/or Dan In Real Life), I feel glad to have so many places that I can call home. Surprisingly, my homes start to blend together as the colors of Colorado inspire our home decor in Iowa and as family and friends from our other homes visit us in our current one.

Food Ethic

Dear Readers,

I have decided to start a new blog project about ethical consumerism focused mainly on food.

My writing goal is to alter weekly posting between My Modern Marriage and Food Ethic, as Owen and I continue to explore what it means to create positive relationships between ourselves and the world around us.

I would like to invite you to join me in this new endeavor.

Thank you for all of the support you have given me,
Summer

Daily And Not

As we approach the two year mark of our time in Iowa, we find ourselves doing less unpacking and more sweeping our dirt out from under the furniture. We're better adjusted and more confident in our abilities to do grown up things like paying bills. We aren't newlyweds anymore. Suddenly, life is daily. Though dailyness has a reputation for being a grind, it also brings routine and relaxation. I find that I don't examine my relationship with Owen as much anymore; I just live it.

The most recent and un-daily event I have to share is the passing of my family's dog, Rascal. The last I saw him was at Christmas, and even though he was grey in the face, he still had his puppy-like energy that had once been part of my daily life. It is difficult to imagine that when I go home to Colorado in three weeks he won't be there to greet me.

When we first met Rascal as a puppy thirteen years ago the people selling him claimed that he was a pure-bred St. Bernard, but that they just didn't make the effort to get papers together. In reality he was a mostly-St. Bernard.

Rascal was not a well trained dog. If you called his name he was just as likely to run away from you as to you.  On hot days he would swim in the pond by our house and then run up and thwack you with his giant tail sopping with pond scum.

His general disregard for systems and rules carried a certain freedom. His not-so-pedigree genetics were unexpected and beautiful, and he was always, always friendly. Though I am sad to see him leave, I was touched by the gentleness and care that my parents provided him in his final days while I was absent.

Rascal's passing was one of three that we have learned about in the past week or so. Today we visited the grave of a client I worked with through the Arc and were shaken to find that her mother, who I had consoled just months before, was buried next to her. 

With so much death surrounding us this week, we find ourselves dealing with heightened death anxiety. Since we started dating, Owen and I both notice that we are generally more afraid for our own and each other's safety than we were before. We've transitioned from young-hearted fearlessness in the face of mortality to suddenly having a lifetime of plans to lose.  Yet, even with the fear of losing the life we look forward to, we don't seem to live as fully as we would like to right now. Though the dailyness brings relaxation and routine, it also presents the potential for stagnation and stunted growth. 

Too often I waste entire days in a state of waiting. Constantly, I am waiting to hear back from some application that I've submitted in search of a more fulfilling daily. Yet even as I feel that some days are wasted by dailyness, those activities that are incessantly repeated are making me stronger and more capable.

With every downward dog and chicken dinner I am preparing myself for the future. With every day that Owen and I pass hours talking and thinking together, we build our relationship. So when the time comes that something is not daily, we can be ready. Having Owen in my daily means that he knows all of my emotions as they pass, and so he was ready to hold me when the un-daily news of Rascal's passing came our way. 

Daily life is boring, and it's comforting. Sometimes it feels like chains holding me down, but my muscles grow stronger from carrying them. What we do in our daily becomes what we do in our not-daily. What skills are you strengthening every day? What emotional responses are you practicing?

Simple Happiness

My grandparents' only wedding picture

This week, my grandparents celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary! In 1963 Werner and Patricia said their vows in a small Texas church and headed to a nearby restaurant with a few close friends for a fried chicken dinner.  They spent the night at a Ramada Inn in town, which my grandmother described in her wedding book as being very nice.

Twenty-three years later my parents had an evening wedding that included a ceremony and small reception. Paul and Traci had a wedding cake table decorated with satin flowers that my mother had made.

They were gifted a honeymoon in Disney World, near where my great grandmother lived. (Their honeymoon included visiting with Grandma for some of the time...)

Owen and I were married in the St. Olaf College chapel in Minnesota. We held our reception ten minutes away in a tent with a formal dinner with thirty or so bottles of wine, several beautiful cakes, and a dance floor with a six-hour long playlist and a few wedding games.

Our wedding day was so stressful that I ended up crying for at least a half hour upon arriving to the reception site. We escaped to Napa Valley for our honeymoon, which was largely spent recovering from the stress of the wedding.





What has happened in wedding culture that makes us feel like we need to make our wedding days into such a show?

Fifty years ago Werner and Patricia had a wedding without a photographer, reception dinner, dance floor, or long honeymoon, but the smiles in their one and only picture are so beautiful.

In many ways their marriage continues to display the simple happiness of their wedding. For their anniversary this year they decided to take a trip to their favorite vacation spot in Estes Park, Colorado where they rent a cabin and don't leave it the whole week. When I called them to wish them a happy anniversary they were looking out the windows enjoying the view and watching for wildlife. My grandmother told me, as she often does, their story.

Because they were always seated alphabetically in school, Werner sat in front of Patricia every year starting in the seventh grade. They didn't talk to one another until the eleventh grade when they were roped into a double date. As the story goes, Werner had a car and his friend had a date with a girl who was friends with Patricia. His friend needed Werner to drive, and Patricia was brought as Werner's date.  Though the friends didn't really hit it off, my grandparents quickly fell in love and were married a few years later.

As I was Growing up my grandparents emphasized getting away from televisions, computers, and phones. They taught me how to find happiness in many simple pleasures that I now share with Owen including card games, puzzles, quilting, and hiking.

Happy Anniversary Werner and Patricia!

Renewal

As I posted just last month, I love Lent, but since the Easter Bunny stopped leaving me treats I haven't cared as much for Easter. Supposedly, Lent is the time of sorrow and Easter the time of joy, but something about the running all over town visiting all of the relatives we can pack into one day and overeating feels more stressful than joyful.

This year, Owen and I decided to make the trek to Minnesota for Grandma Inga's 80th birthday this coming weekend rather than visiting for Easter last weekend. So we celebrated on our own for the first time! I baked my mom's Apple Spice Cake, which turned out about 85% as delicious as when she makes it (still rather tasty). And of course we dyed Easter eggs.


Our Easter celebration was simple this year, and we had time to reflect.

Our time in Iowa has been marked by feelings of inadequacy. I have questioned my self-worth for choosing Owen over graduate school and for working with people with disabilities rather than pursuing more glamorous career opportunities. This has caused Owen stress and sadness as he has felt responsible for my unhappiness. His sadness with my path led me to worry that he too found my achievements inadequate.

Along with my personal battle, we dealt with Owen's questions of self-worth as his counseling PhD proved more challenging than expected, and he experienced significant failure for the first time. Added to the academic stress, we faced the ill social judgements that often follow struggle. As he with me, seeing Owen face so much adversity is difficult for me.

In the midst of so much unhappiness, we forgot what it is like to feel good on a regular basis. Lent provided us the cleansing we needed. We gave up over fifty unnecessary items that had filled our junk room, worry surrounding future career goals, and self-debasing thoughts stemming from the social and academic rejection we've experienced in Iowa. In many ways we stopped trying to control the uncontrollable, and we came to a greater acceptance of who we are.

We are married. We are Lutheran (or as Owen puts it, Christian). We are not athletic. We don't always put our best feet forward. We support gay rights and don't judge people who don't. We are pro-life and don't judge people who aren't. We want to be green, but often fail. We never know what's trending on Youtube. We are imperfect, and we can't justify everything we say, do, feel, or believe.

When Easter came we were ready for rebirth. As we sat in the balcony pews of the much-more-crowded-than-usual chapel, we connected to the whole. Owen reports feeling a greater sense of independence and a greater alignment with our life in Iowa. As for me, I sensed for the first time that my purpose and my desires have aligned in the very deep down truth that I want to love God, other people, and the earth more than I want to achieve societal acceptance.  With that I have come to the understanding that what I do for a living will matter far less than what I live for.