I was listening to the Valentine's Day edition of "This American Life" on NPR yesterday. The first segment was a short story from the point of view of a husband in the depths of a long and not particularly happy marriage. After a trite argument (one in a string of many) he nearly leaves his wife of 30 years because he's just so tired of being annoyed and unhappy. On his way out, he stops at the bedroom door to tell her of his determined plans. He sees that she is sleeping - that she has clearly cried herself to sleep, that she too is exhausted with their tiresome relationship. He is suddenly struck with the memory of what he thought love was at 14 years old...a young, naive idealist who saw the romance of a budding relationship as equal to true love. Yes, he knows there is an unmatched, unexplained magic in the blossom of love - eyes meeting across a room, the electrifying touch of skin on skin, the anxious hope to see her at every next turn - but there is also an unmatched, unexplained magic in the longevity of true love. The ability to feel lost without the other person, even when you are tired and annoyed and sick of the daily grind...that you are capable of feeling this much contrast and yet know that your love is so much greater than the struggle. He does not leave her. He writes her a letter - the story he is telling - and goes to bed, to her.
I put a particular album on just to write this post--the soundtrack to the film "Once." It opens with a song so beautiful and strong that it makes me want to cry. It is love. Aching, pining falling in love. Another track bears the lyrics "And I love her so, I wouldn't trade her for gold...I'm walking on moonbeams..." I want to surround myself in love songs - songs about one person's joy in loving another person. But for me, what I need to be reminded of is not only my deep, dynamic love for Chris. Yes, I always need to give him more of me and more of my time and more of my good parts to balance out the hard things we go through.
I also love this home - this land, this family, these children - and this life I have chosen. I love it so, I wouldn't trade it for gold. It can be so difficult and annoying and tedious and slow moving. It is scary and big in its forever-feeling. But it began with a magic like falling in love. I saw this life from across the crowded room in my mind and I could not sleep for my thoughts were with it constantly. I ached to see it progress and I wanted to talk about it all the time. I was engaged with this life from the start and wanted to get married to it and live happily ever after. Be it kismet or divine intervention, my husband, Charis and Jay felt the same way - we were all blindsided by newfound love. What grateful joy we felt, upon realizing that we were all game for the same plan. And here we are, waiting with baited (and often exasperated) breath for our goals to take form, but not quite sure what those specifically are from day to day. I have never been one to have big goals...never assumed I would live in a certain place or have a particular kind of job or have x amount of kids by the time I was x years old. But now I find I want and need life goals - to move toward something big and challenging, because I am in this rare and beautiful place to do this with others. I have Chris and Ellis to love and nurture forever, and I also have this bigger life that requires great love and nurturing.
It is February - the time of year when I suddenly go from being all romantic about winter to just being restless and ready for spring. I'm looking at seed catalogs and a diagram of our garden and I am getting excited. I walk around the back of the house and envision a new addition being built and I can hear the sounds of hammers and drills and see friends and family arriving to lend a hand. I'm excited for creating to begin again and to feel the momentum of moving forward. I am excited to share on this blog on a more regular basis, what projects are going on, who is lending their skill to the making, and what I am learning by watching and doing.
I now have big dreams that float around in my imagination and sometimes get drawn down to earth, shared in conversation, and that is exciting. In this marriage of life, I am keenly aware of the magic which started it all. May I find the grace to come back to that every day, and the good sense to surround myself with love songs when I need them.
Be Mona! at the kids' museum
They really just could NOT believe their good fortune...trains everywhere!
I couldn't resist sharing Ellis's "carousel" that we built out of bristle blocks this morning. Have you ever seen tiny plastic animals having this much fun?!
