Valentine's Day Reflections
The other day a friend asked me how I know when to call off plans in order to prioritize our family’s rest..or my own, for that matter. I was surprised by the question, because earlier that day, I had wrestled with the decision to stay home from our homeschool community gathering in favour of a slow and peaceful morning. I struggled with guilt knowing that my kids would be disappointed, worry because of my fear that other parents might judge me, and internal pressure due to my own desire to stick to a schedule. The friend who brought up the topic told me that she admired my intentionality and that I didn’t care what others might think. “Oh I care what they think,” I admitted. “I just try to not let that impact my actual decisions.”
From the outside, I may not appear to be a people pleaser, but I actually struggle with this aspect of my personality on a daily basis. Slow living and taking time to rest tend to clash with societal norms and expectations, especially here in the busy Bay Area where exhausting commutes, schedules packed to the hilt, and vacation days left to pile up are not uncommon.
After all three of my children were born at home, I followed my midwives’ recommendations to rest for several weeks. This was met by many with anything from curiosity to incredulity, which made me terribly self-conscious. But I knew deep down that this ancient wisdom was exactly what I needed. And thus began my journey into slow living, all while doing life in the suburbs of Silicone Valley and San Francisco.
When the kids were very young (they are now 11, 9, and 6), one of my favourite tactics for lowering angst, was to pull out a beloved picture book. One that we returned to over and over, that seemed to soothe and delight every time it was read. As I began reading, slowly, my distraught child would ease over to see the illustrations and, without fail, eventually climb into my lap to finish the story. I knew that even if I was in the middle of something important, this practice would keep all of our emotions from escalating. Of course, there were times when this didn’t happen and tempers would flare and meltdowns would transpire. And then I would remember that perhaps if I’d just slowed down to be present and provide comfort, we might have avoided the fury and chaos altogether.
Once my children were school-aged, I tried employing this method of slowing down and offering comfort when struggles with math lead to tears or piano practice made all of us want to tear our hair out. I would halt lessons half-way through and insist we all get some fresh air. Often, my go-to was (and is still) reading – either on the front lawn or under the olive tree. If the weather is miserable, a pot of tea around the table serves as the perfect antidote to internal misery! Most of the time, we return to our studies after a chapter or two, but on the odd occasion when I can tell we all just need to rest on a deeper level, I suspend the day’s agenda as much as possible, and reconvene later that day or the next morning.
I knew I’d hit the jackpot when, after just a few days of dating, I told Will that I believed God had called me to a life of travel and building relationships around the world with photography as my means of making that happen. I knew I couldn’t compromise that calling and didn’t want to pursue a romantic relationship with someone who didn’t value the path I was on. Will, wise from the get-go, told me that while he didn’t know where our relationship would end up, he would never hinder God’s plan for my life. I was intrigued, besotted even. My ambition and direct approach didn’t phase him in the least. I think he felt the same a day or so later, when I gamely agreed to go squirrel hunting with his family and then discreetly picked shot out of my teeth when the aforementioned squirrel was served up at the dinner table. Apparently neither of us proved to be too much for the other. What a novel experience!
A few months into our dating relationship, I panicked. I was scared that because we were in a long distance relationship, Will was only seeing the best in me, and that as soon as he experienced the worst, he would bolt. I will NEVER forget his response, which he penned in an email: “I may not have seen the worst in you yet, but I have seen the best. And the best is worth fighting for.” I printed that email, folded it into a little square, and carried it with me for months. I knew then that I wasn’t just ‘in love’, but that I would choose to love Will for the rest of my life. For better, or for worse.
17 years in, I can confidently affirm that Will and I have both witnessed each other at our worst. Multiple times over. And to me, that is the best part of marriage. Even when one of us is at our worst, the other chooses not to abandon or write off the relationship. That commitment exists not because we are superhuman, but because we have the example of Christ’s unconditional love for us. If Jesus could sacrifice His life for us with a brutal death on the cross, in order that we might one day have eternal life and perfect unity with God, then we can (with His strength) endure life’s trials, including the trials of marriage.
I have learned so much about becoming a more tactful friend, less judgemental human, and gracious follower of Jesus because of the man who has never viewed me as ‘too much’, but instead has always found the best in me worth mucking through the worst for. I am still a work in progress, a bit barbed and defensive, easily wounded and riled up, but slowly, slowly, softening. Sometimes I still wish I were a bit less ‘me’, not so intense or sensitive, but if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t experience the beauty of grace (God’s, Will’s, and others’) on such a grand scale. What a gift to be so imperfect and yet loved so perfectly. The best Valentine’s gift today, and every day.
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