Well, it talks about religion and Christianity and God a whole lot.
So, here's the quick and dirty version of my thoughts on religion: I believe in the Christian incarnation of God. I do not believe I have to go to church to prove that; in fact, I can candidly say that, based on historical facts about my life, church was often a detractor from developing pure, untarnished faith in my aforementioned God. I also believe that many other religions, mostly Eastern in origination, make a lot of really good points, and that the Universe is a big, karmic thing. But I do believe in God.
In the middle of this blog post, which (by the way) I only read because I liked a snippet of this quote a friend-of-a-friend shared on Facebook, I found this quote that so succinctly sums up my thoughts on my marriage that I couldn't not share it with you guys.
PS The title of the article is "My husband is not my soul mate."
I'll let that sink in for a second.
.
.
.
The author discusses the late '90s/early '00s movement among young Christians, which I was a part of, to varying degrees, so I remember it well: I Kissed Dating Goodbye and Courtship and whatever other generally twisted out of proportion thing was going on then (not to say that there was not merit to each of those movements, but I do believe that there was a bit of an overzealous focus on the HOW and not the WHY of each of them). I also believe that it gave a lot of people - particularly young women who labeled themselves Christian - unrealistic expectations about how a relationship would come together for them... how God would divinely intervene, make the handsome youth leader with an amazing voice and skills on the guitar step right into their path and make them swoon their way into a marriage that would be amazing in every way. Not quite realistic, that.
We could talk for hours about it, but that's not really the point here.
The point here is this quote, right here, is perfect.
My marriage is not based on a set of choices over which I had no control. It is based on a daily choice to love this man, this husband that I chose out of many people that I could have chosen to love (in theory, don’t imagine that many others were lined up and knocking at the door). He is not some illusive soul mate, not some divine fulfillment, not some perfect step on the rigorously laid out but oh so secret “Plan for My Life.”
But he is the person that I giggly chose to go out on a date with in college. He is the person who chose to not dump me when I announced that I was moving to France for a year, then Kentucky for another year. He is the person who asked me to move to DC and I chose to do so. He is the person who decided to ask me to marry him and I agreed. At any step here, we could have made other choices and you know what? We might have married other people, or stayed single, and had happy and full lives.
But now I delight in choosing to love him everyday.
I like it better this way, with the pressure on me and not on fate, cosmos, or divinity. I will not fall out of love, cannot fall out of love, because I willingly dived in and I’m choosing daily to stay in. This is my joyous task, my daily decision. This is my marriage. (via)
Replace some of those locales, and it's my husband and me. Also, I wasn't so giggly... at first.
All variables aside - including our daughter, who has completed our lives in ways we didn't even know we were lacking in - I don't even think I need to say anything else, aside from this:
I love you, Kenya.
Forever and always.
Arguing or laughing or crying or talking each other down.
Day in, day out.
Thank you for giving me that same honor.
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