The Last Seven Years - Issue #36
I am a person who loves clear and precise language. I am a writer after all. I find ambiguous terms extremely irritating because they lead to so much confusion.
After agreeing to date Jonathon, I came face to face with an absolute brick wall of confusion at the definition of "being in love." Does anyone really know what it means to "be in love?" Writers past and present have spilled gallons of ink talking about it. Boiled down, "being in love" seems to mean a high level of physical and emotional attraction to someone, having wonderful feelings, being delighted in all the things they do for you, and wanting to have sex all the time. Or something very close to that.
(Of course, we Christians don't believe in having sex before marriage, but when we talk about choosing a spouse, the subtext we give is that you should want to have sex all the time with the person you're considering but you shouldn't actually "do it" you know, until you're married. Unless you're of the "modern and improved Christian" persuasion which believes most anything goes as long as you love each other. I am not of the modern and improved persuasion, just to be clear.)
But to me, that sounds more like "being in hormones." And frankly, that doesn't sound like a valid reason to get married. I don't think "being in hormones" is a bad thing, per se. But I'm not convinced a marriage made on the sole prerequisite of "being in hormones" is a wise marriage made. Anyway.
So...how did I choose Jonathon? Well, I'll tell you how I didn't.
"You'll just know..."
"When 'the one' comes along, you'll just know," is what I heard a million times over the course of my life prior to Jonathon. I mean, the rom-coms are full of beautiful girls who left perfectly serviceable fellows at the marriage altar because they "just didn't know" and they had feelings for the other guy.
Well, I didn't "just know." I have never "just known" about any life changing decision I have ever made in my entire life. In fact, I was filled with doubts and anxiety almost the entire nine months of dating before he popped the question. So, instead of relying on the artful and mysterious power of "just knowing," I decided to evaluate his character and his values, compared them with mine, and decided to marry him.
"This thing is bigger than both of us..."
I wanted to be overwhelmed and swept off my feet as much as the next person. It would make the deciding so much easier. But I just...wasn't. I had some nice butterflies for the first few weeks of dating and then they went poof. Then came the anxiety and the panic attacks.
"What if I'm being unfair to him by continuing this relationship when I don't have the feels?!?"
"What if I marry him and that dude who plays Superman has a lookalike who comes along and also has Christian values, and I have to deny my feelings and trot along in a bland marriage with a round, bald guy!?!?"
"What if..."
And there really were an infinity of "what ifs" to choose from. So, I decided to be painfully honest with Jonathon about how I was not feeling and he said, "Oh, is that all? I know I'm nothing special to look at, and it doesn't bother me if you don't have the 'in love' feelings."
So, instead of waiting for an overwhelming and forceful sensation to carry me to the heights and render Jonathon with a soft glow all about him, I evaluated his character and his values, compared them with mine, and decided to marry him.
"Never settle!"
In addition to the "what ifs" in the previous section was the biggest "what if" of all.
"What if I'm sticking with Jonathon because I'm 30 years old and he's the first solid guy who seriously wants to marry me? Am I just settling?" And the conclusion to that inquiry, dear reader, was simple.
You bet your buttons I was settling!
I was settling for a guy who sincerely and deeply cared for me, who would bend over backwards to do what was best for me.
I was settling for a guy who would be a wonderful father.
I was settling for a guy with one of the strongest moral backbones I have ever seen.
I was accepting a reality that a lot of women absolutely refuse to face in these days of "girl power" and "I am woman, hear me roar!"...I do not have all the time or the choices in the world.
It's a matter of biology, I'm afraid. A woman's opportunities for matrimony inevitably decrease in inverse proportion to her advancing age. There is no way to outmaneuver this fact. It is not the same for men, and this is not the fault of the "patriarchy." I know it's hard to admit it, but nothing has changed since Elizabeth Bennet's mother was searching for a man of large fortune for one of her girls, whichever he would take. 'Cause, biology.
I did not wish to live alone with my twelve cats just because my Christian superman lookalike never arrived to sweep my decrepit, aging self away to his castle in the clouds. So, I settled for Jonathon. That is not a sin. It is not bad. It's smart. (He, of course agrees—JH) And why did I decide to "settle" for him? Because I evaluated his character and his values, compared them with mine, and decided to marry him.
So...how's it been?
It has been a beautiful seven years, each year more beautiful than the last. I love him because I decided to. Because I acted on the decision, it became a seed that sprouted and grew and bloomed and smells sweeter today than any rose wild or domestic.
I write this after a long, and tiring week. Jonathon is laying next to me in bed, snoring quite loudly because he is very tired this Sunday afternoon. I have felt terrible, truly terrible the last couple of weeks. There were a couple days when I couldn't even get out of bed, my stomach hurt so bad. And what has my husband done while his pathetic wife has been sick abed and unable to make him a sandwich?
Well, he ordered me breakfast and had it delivered to the house without me even asking. He took the dogs on a walk without my asking because he knows how important that is to me and he knew I didn't feel well enough to do it myself. He has brought me food in bed more times than I can count this week. He has told me over and over again, "I promise you, better times are coming. You will not feel this bad for the rest of your life." He has held me while I cried over the state of our house because I haven't been well enough to clean it and he has been too busy working and taking care of me to clean it.
In short, when God gave me Jonathon, he gave me better than anything my silly girlish fantasies could have envisioned. Instead of giving me what I wanted, He gave me what I needed, and about a hundred extra qualities I never thought about wanting.
I love him, and I will love him until the day death parts us. On December 27, we will celebrate our 7th Anniversary. I look forward to 50 more.
I could write reams on this topic and perhaps I will someday, but I haven't the room here. Perhaps a blog post later.
Until next time, folks...
