Today has been full of people. Full of strangers with quirky wisdom and full of friends with stories to share. As much as I dislike chaos, there are few ways I'd rather spend a Saturday morning that sitting at a cramped table at Succotash, chatting, observing the collection of characters buzzing about with steaming coffee and heaping plates. These moments remind me that other people exist. Actually exist. They're not mere obstacles in my life, obligatory conversations to be had when I order or small-talk generators when I stand in line. They have lives much like mine with hopes and fears and families and struggles. I'm saddened that I need this reminder. Of course, I know people are people, but I fall into a rhythm of disregarding their souls and hurting hearts. I'm not rude, but I simply forget that people have the power to impact me and I them. Thankfully, God uses many methods to remind me of this truth.
While waiting on my nails to dry at the salon, I sat across from a woman who immediately began relating her whirlwind wedding story. She planned a wedding in three weeks, bought a dress for $300, and held the ceremony outside in the middle of December. "All girls should get married between Thanksgiving and Christmas because everything is on sale," she instructed me. I nodded in agreement, knowing I would imitate none of these practices if were to plan a wedding. But before I completely disregarded her story, Jesus gently reminded me that this was her life, her most special story, and she wanted to share a bit of it with me. I suddenly realized I should be honored to hear what she had to say. I tell stories so others can participate in my life. She was doing the same. To experience others' excitements and sorrows, even if seemingly inconsequential, should be a joy. How often do I view it as a bother?
Though my salon experience was far from life-altering, it's those kinds of proddings that make me thankful we have a personal God who made us personal beings. He draws us to Himself and puts people in our lives to which we can draw near. How disrespectful of His design is it for me always to wish people would leave me alone? God created us for togetherness with Him and one another, and I selfishly prefer silence and solitude much of the time. Small encounters with strangers are gifts for me to enjoy and learn from. Through others I learn more about God and His children, His care for them and His creativity in their design. God is a good and patient teacher, and I'm thankful He uses Saturdays for such sweet lessons.
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Yesterday and the Many Tomorrows
Love is pretty silly until you know what it is.
Growing up, I didn't think about boys much. I had my tomboy years of flannel shirts, black jeans, and braided leather belts, but even when those passed I didn't notice not having a boyfriend. High school brought interests but nothing serious developed. College brought dating but nothing lasted. I began to think I'd be single my entire life. For me, that wasn't a despairing thought, but more an avoidance of hassle. Boys are tough, and relationships with them are tougher. I was fine on my own, and it was easier for me to rely on myself and do what I wanted than have someone else to answer to and care for.
But in my first year of grad school I met one of my brother's goofy friends. The first time we hung out his hair was disheveled from a nap and he was wearing an old sweatshirt. Not trying to impress me, I noted. We drank coffee and probably laughed about movies or discussed our favorite beers. We had fun. And I liked that he was weird and I was weird, and our weirdness didn't bother each other.
Tomorrow that goofy guy and I will celebrate two years of dating. That's weird. Sure, two years isn't that significant when shuffled into the rest of life, but the last two years have been life-altering. I have lived in more extremes than I knew were possible, and I have seen glimpses of the much deeper extremes to come. I've felt more happy, angry, loved, frustrated, and cared for than I knew I could. I've seen unconditional love demonstrated more tenderly and fiercely than I thought possible from a person. That's what's been most incredible: actually experiencing what love does to you. Seth doesn't love me because it's easy. I'm a handful, and he knows it. He doesn't love me because it's fun. I'm a brat, more often than not. He doesn't love me because he gets anything out of it. On many occasions I return his sweet words with sarcasm. No, he loves me because he chooses to. He loves me because God empowers him to choose my good every day. This is amazing.
While I'm still a handful, a brat, and a sarcastic sourpuss, I see the way Seth's love has changed me. I'm able to trust him better. I'm able to hope in good things more fully. I can empathize with others more sincerely. Seth's love has changed me because in it is freedom. Freedom to be messy me and know I'm still loved. More than anything, Seth's love points me to God's love. God loves us so well, so perfectly, and though Seth is far from perfect, God has blessed him with a great capacity to love as He loves. Through Seth, I have learned that some of the sweetest joys and heaviest sacrifices come inside a loving relationship.
So, after two years of dating, I've decided that love is worth the hassle. It has to be worth it. Seth is worth all the arguing and misunderstanding and hurting that comes with relationships. He's worth it because we are better people together. We are stronger workers for the Kingdom together. We witness God's grace more vibrantly together. I don't think love is silly anymore. I've seen what it can do, and I have the greatest hope in what it will do.
Growing up, I didn't think about boys much. I had my tomboy years of flannel shirts, black jeans, and braided leather belts, but even when those passed I didn't notice not having a boyfriend. High school brought interests but nothing serious developed. College brought dating but nothing lasted. I began to think I'd be single my entire life. For me, that wasn't a despairing thought, but more an avoidance of hassle. Boys are tough, and relationships with them are tougher. I was fine on my own, and it was easier for me to rely on myself and do what I wanted than have someone else to answer to and care for.
But in my first year of grad school I met one of my brother's goofy friends. The first time we hung out his hair was disheveled from a nap and he was wearing an old sweatshirt. Not trying to impress me, I noted. We drank coffee and probably laughed about movies or discussed our favorite beers. We had fun. And I liked that he was weird and I was weird, and our weirdness didn't bother each other.
Tomorrow that goofy guy and I will celebrate two years of dating. That's weird. Sure, two years isn't that significant when shuffled into the rest of life, but the last two years have been life-altering. I have lived in more extremes than I knew were possible, and I have seen glimpses of the much deeper extremes to come. I've felt more happy, angry, loved, frustrated, and cared for than I knew I could. I've seen unconditional love demonstrated more tenderly and fiercely than I thought possible from a person. That's what's been most incredible: actually experiencing what love does to you. Seth doesn't love me because it's easy. I'm a handful, and he knows it. He doesn't love me because it's fun. I'm a brat, more often than not. He doesn't love me because he gets anything out of it. On many occasions I return his sweet words with sarcasm. No, he loves me because he chooses to. He loves me because God empowers him to choose my good every day. This is amazing.
While I'm still a handful, a brat, and a sarcastic sourpuss, I see the way Seth's love has changed me. I'm able to trust him better. I'm able to hope in good things more fully. I can empathize with others more sincerely. Seth's love has changed me because in it is freedom. Freedom to be messy me and know I'm still loved. More than anything, Seth's love points me to God's love. God loves us so well, so perfectly, and though Seth is far from perfect, God has blessed him with a great capacity to love as He loves. Through Seth, I have learned that some of the sweetest joys and heaviest sacrifices come inside a loving relationship.
So, after two years of dating, I've decided that love is worth the hassle. It has to be worth it. Seth is worth all the arguing and misunderstanding and hurting that comes with relationships. He's worth it because we are better people together. We are stronger workers for the Kingdom together. We witness God's grace more vibrantly together. I don't think love is silly anymore. I've seen what it can do, and I have the greatest hope in what it will do.
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