Burdenofglory’s Weblog

Note:  I wrote this last spring, and decided to resurrect it from the “unpublished” file.

Is that candy called “Then and Now” or “Now and Later”?  Horrible name.  Makes me think of someone chewing their cud.

I have been thinking a lot about what relationships between males and females look like at the beginning, and in the middle.  My daughter is at the beginning.  Wow.  So intense.  So sweet.  So many compliments.  So many smiles, sighs, and perhaps a bit of floating.

I am not in the beginning, thank the Lord.  Marcus and I occasionally gaze at each other over our morning cup of coffee, and say, “Boy, are we  glad we’re not dating anymore.”

What attracted me to Marcus way back when?  Hmmm.  First of all, he was Bad News.  I just told Ash that James Franco looked like Bad News.   Ashley was disappointed we sent Flyboys back to Netflix without getting to see it.  I told her that from what I could tell, Hollywood just wanted to find another film for James Franco after Spiderman.  Just a  2-hour James Franco Gratuitous Display.  Why bother with a script?  Bad News looks good from a distance, but marrying Bad News?

Oh, yes.  Marcus was also Bad News.  He had icy blue eyes, long wavy hair, no concept of time, and he was cute.  In my defense and his, I also remember something different about him.  A diamond-in-the-rough glimmer.  He talked about God, forgiveness and things that really touched me at a deep level.  Have mercy.  Did I mention how cute he was?

Why do I love Marcus now, after 17 years?  Hmmmm.  First of all, he isn’t Bad News anymore.  He takes the hit for me everyday.  I don’t mean that he takes a bullet.  But he gets up, goes to work, deals with anal customers (thank you for the business!), drops plywood on his toe, fixes broken equipment, and chats with elderly ladies who may need a chair glued, but also just want to talk with such a “nice, young man.”  That is why he sometimes comes home with recipes and canned preserves.  Those ladies probably think I starve him.  For the record, I do feed him.

He loves our girls.  And they know it.

He reaches for my hand when we walk somewhere, after all this time.

A few years ago, when I went out to the shop in a fragile state, and Marcus tried to objectively “solve” my problem, I told him I didn’t want my problem solved.  I wanted a hug.  That’s it.  Marcus has never forgotten that advice.  He hugs first, listens, and only offers advice in certain situations.  Most of the  time a hug takes care of it.  I’m glad I told him this.  Sometimes there is a queue of females by the shop door waiting for their hugs.  They don’t want advice, either.

I see his walk with God strengthening.  He has spiritual insights that I don’t have.  We complement one another, which can be frustrating, but not when God teaches you different facets of Himself from the much different person He has joined you with.

He understands what I’m going through, even when I don’t tell him.  A couple days ago I was doing lawn therapy, and not holding up very well.   Ashley came to ask me what was wrong, then Marcus appeared and gave Ash the point-by-point explanation of what was upsetting me.  I almost fell over.  I was too shocked to be upset anymore, and realized I don’t give him enough credit.

That leads me to the last reason love is so sweet after the years.  Marcus does fully understand me, yet has chosen to stay with me.  He has accepted my faults, like backseat driving.  Not only that, but he chooses to go on vacation with me even though my foot almost goes through the floorboards.  That’s commitment,  and going the extra mile.

I remember before our church plant, Pastor Tobey was teaching Sunday school.  He said heaven is a place where we will be fully known by our Savior, and fully accepted.  That is the longing in our hearts.   A lasting, God-focused marriage gives us a glimpse of what this looks like.

Thanks, Marcus.

Marcus is not the type of guy who buys many flowers, or other little gifts.  He doesn’t give me romantic cards.    But once in a while, when he does one of these things, it speaks volumes.

My romantic Valentine’s Day evening consisted of Swiss Family Robinson with Maddie and Rebecca.  Actually, the movie was entertaining, as it always is (how many times have we watched Ernest and Fritz duke it out over the girl they first thought was a boy?).  It was 100 times better than The Island of the Blue Dolphins, which we tried to watch first. Isn’t it  ludicrous the way they used to put straight, black wigs on actors and botta bing, you got yourself an Indian?  Rebecca even asked me, “Mom, is that an Indian? He  looks white with a black wig.”  Maddie giggled, “Yeah, he has that shell headband on to keep that wig on his head.”  Out of the mouths of babes.  If the black wigs aren’t silly enough, the supposed Indians talk their MONOTONE, BEING CAREFUL NOT TO USE ARTICLES, ADJECTIVES, OR THE RIGHT PRONOUNS:  “Me go beach after she.”    After a while, it makes my eye twitch.

The Valentine’s Day treat was homemade brownies, which were OK in their precooked form.  I almost made Kerri’s Oatmeal Chocolate-Chip Cookies, but thought I’d try yet another homemade brownie recipe.  They weren’t even worth frosting.  Why don’t I ever learn?

But the best part of the evening was when Marcus came home, after standing in his booth at the home show for 10 hours.  He brought me a dozen roses, and told me he would take me out if I wanted.  Sigh. We finished Swiss Family Robinson instead, holding hands and giggling at all the booby traps the family set up for the naughty pirates.

I know, I know.  It is good to get out with your husband.  But it is good to stay in, too.

It is my 16th wedding anniversary today. This Friday is like every other Friday, finishing up schoolwork with the kids and attempting to get the house clean by doing my own chores, and nagging them to get theirs finished. I am not much on celebrations, although I am learning. My mom and I didn’t celebrate much growing up. It was just her and I, and we kind of lived a quiet, non-celebratory life. My husband’s family, on the other hand, are big celebrators. His parents still call and sing “Happy Anniversary” to us after all this time, and offer to take the kids for an overnighter even though our oldest is 17.

Marcus and I don’t reminisce often, since our todays are so much better than our yesterdays. But this morning he did look around our family room, watching the fire and sipping his coffee. “We’ve sure come a long way, Jen.” The first house we rented was teeny, with our few belongings crowding into the little mauve living room: Marcus’ fish tank, a TV, a rocking chair, the stereo cabinet, and my mom’s couch. Ashley’s room was really a walkway from the kitchen into our bedroom. 8 months after we got married, Marcus lost his job and I got pregnant with Katherine. We decided to trust God, and Marcus started his business, and I determined I would stay home when this baby was born. The rest is history. I am glad God emphasizes remembering His works in His Word. It reminds me that even if I’m not a great celebrator, I need to remind myself about what He has done.

Before Ashley left with the kids this afternoon, we discussed a friend who was having boy problems. This friend just started dating someone, and was definitely not “feeling the love.” I told Ashley I was definitely still “feeling the love” with her father. She asked me if he still gave me goose bumps. I had to admit to no bumps, but that when I wake up next to him, I smile. I can’t pinpoint why I love Marcus. I just do. I appreciate his devotion to me and the kids, and how hard he works for us. But I couldn’t make this trite little list about all the reasons I love him. Maybe it is like God’s love for us. He can’t list all the reasons He loves us. He just does. He can’t help it. And I can’t help but loving this man either. Happy Anniversary, honey. Even if you never read this.(Marcus sits at the computer twice a year.)