...and Enide

To my readers, I apologize for failing to post over the past few weeks. As I'm sure you can imagine, I've been extremely busy being pampered and hosted--for which I'm extremely grateful. I probably won't post again for a week or to after our big day tomorrow. But, before I go from Miss Enide to Mr. Erec, I wanted to share with you a short reflection on what this blog has meant to me.

I started the blog as a gift to Adam for Saint Valentine's Day. He knows I want to write for publication, so he has heavily encouraged me to practice more often than I do. Over the past few months, though, what started out as a gift for Adam has become more of a gift to me.

First, the warm encouragement of Adam and other friends has given me a courage to write that I've never really felt before. Adam's gentle criticism has helped me to be more open to the suggestions of others. And the loyalty of many of my readers has given me faith that people will read when I have something meaningful or worthwhile to say.

Second, I never expected ...and Enide to blossom on- and off-line the way it has. I'm astounded at having readers on several continents who regularly follow my project. But I am far more astounded at the number of friends and family who have e-mailed me or sought me out in person to start a serious discussion about issues I've raised on ...and Enide. The blog isn't just my thoughts anymore. I'm not the only one who thinks seriously about relationships and marriage, so I've been honored to have my own ideas tempered and honed by people who care as passionately about Godly relationships as I do. And other people's imput has done a lot to give me a better sense of perspective about the seriousness of marriage, something I often worry about more than I ought to.

Most importantly, though, I've been so blessed by the community that's sprung up around ...and Enide. I feel truly loved to have people discuss the ideas on my blog with me and in front of me. Readers have gone out of their way to show me how supported Adam and I really are.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, "Thank you." Thank you for coming along on part of the journey with us. That you for taking time out of your busy day to follow along in this small but important piece of our lives. We are very grateful for our community and for your friendship.

...and Enide will continue when I get back from my honeymoon--at least for a little while. We hope to see many of you at the wedding, at the later Mass in DC, or as soon as you can visit us. Our home is always open to you.

Alyce the Bridesmaid

Alyce and I went to middle and high school together. I don't think I'm exaggerating much when I say I say I would never have made it through either without her. She was kind to me and accepted me for my moodiness when few other people did.

Alyce brings a sense of elegance and poise to the bridal party. She encourages me to feel pampered and beautiful--something that isn't always easy for me.

She is also the most honest bridesmaid. She always been someone I could count on to let me know if I wasn't looking my best. She tells me what she thinks, flat out. Her frankess has been a very useful asset when picking out make-up or going-away dresses.

Overall, Alyce is my first real female friend. That's a beautiful gift for which I can never repay her. She brought all that friendship and warmth to the bridal party and I am I very grateful to her.

Down to the Wire: Choosing My Name

In case you don't know, my fiance has an absolutely fantastic name: Adam Cyril Methodius Solove. Cyril and Methodius are his confirmation saints, the men who brought Christianity to Eastern Europe a millennium ago. Tall, blond, broad-set, hooded eyes, a chiseled nose--Adam is the picture of the Eastern European background that gives him his surname. A. C. M. Solove fits him like a glove.

I'm fairly happy with my born name, too. Alison Michelle Fincher has just the right combination of sweeping feminine and harsher masculine sounds. I am the picture of Anglo-Irishness, so the surname Fincher fits.

I want to make the sybmolic gesture of joining Adam's family by taking his surname. The reality that tiny, Anglo-Irish me must take on a distinctively Eastern European surname cannot be escaped. But what of my middle names?:

Michelle--the middle name given to me by my parents. I have a certain fondness for it.

Lucy--my confirmation saint. Another lovely, feminine name.

Fincher--my maiden name. There are no male Finchers in my generation, so I feel something of an obligation to salvage it in my name.

Alison Michelle Lucy Fincher Solove? I don't think so. But what combination? What do you think?

Down to the Wire: Learning to Dance

Adam and are great amateur dancers--at least in the literal sense of "amateur." We dance because we love it, not because we are any good at it. I've taken a few courses in ballroom and Latin dances, plus a year of ballet. Adam has dabbled in the waltz and swing. Put our combined inexperience together, add a sixteen-inch height difference, and you don't get a particularly winning combination.

But for us, it is a win. It has been really, really fun learning the Viennese waltz for our first dance together. We certainly don't have the time, talent, or skill for an elaborately choreographed wedding surprise, but we can dance competently and enjoy ourselves. Adam has put up with my one-sided criticisms and accidental toe-smashings with a smile on his face; I've learned how to keep my balance and sense of humor when my lead tumbles over in a dizzy heap. We've learned--albeit not mastered--a new skill... and we've done it together.

I guess the experience of learning to dance embodies most of the things I love best about our relationship. Part of learning to dance has been learning to cope with each others peculiarities--particularly the height difference, but also Adam's nervousness and my fools-rush-in attitude about trying new things. When we dance the Viennese waltz at the wedding to country waltz music, we will be acting on our tendency to be slightly out of sync with what's normal--but only slightly. Our friends have taught and encouraged us, so we've been able to incorporate a community of people who love us into an activity we were trying together. Best of all, though, dancing is just one of the "amateur" things we get to do together. We paint. We sing. We dance. We cook. We don't do anything expertly, but we're willing to try just about any new skill. Even when we fail, we have a great time.

Trying new things isn't part of what marriage is "about." But it is a part of what we're about. That's part of what I'm so grateful for Adam.

Showered

Yesterday marked the final of my three showers. I feel so very loved for all the affection, generosity, and attention that have been showered on Adam and me.

This shower was a little bit different. It was co-ed, for one thing. It worked better than I expected to have guys there. I think Adam felt very included.

It also wasn't a shower for traditional gifts. It was a pantry shower. We got a gift bag of various vinegars, a colander full of midnight snacks, a pistachio pesto making kit... even a Rubbermaid tub full of cleaning supplies.

Lindsay did an absolutely fantastic job planning an event that was warm and welcoming for people of many different ages and relationships to us. Again, I find myself extremely grateful for her and for her friendship.

Adam and I are very, very lucky. We understand that many people face real obstacles to getting married like financial difficulties or unsupportive parents. But every single person who has been a part of our marriage preparation--our parents, family, friends, and priests--have shown us what a loving community we have the honor to be a part of. Thank you, as a reader, for being a part of that community.


(Click here to view more photos from the shower.)

Rugs

I know it doesn't seem like much, but Adam and I bought rugs this afternoon. It's such a special experience slowly building our home together.

Wedding Party: Erica the Bridesmaid

Part four in my (now almost complete) series on the bridal party...

My younger sisters are twins, so there is no picking one without the other. Not that it would have mattered. Erica has been an extraordinary blessing in so may ways. I don't know what I would have done without her.

I think Erica may be the most excited member of the wedding party. She's the one who calls every week or so to remind me, "Four more months!" or "Three more weeks!" She helped keep my enthusiasm up, even on the days in Oxford when America, Adam, and marriage seemed so far away. Erica is probably the closest to marriage of my bridal party, so she really understands my joy. And Erica has that rare virtue of always accepting a loved-one's joy as her joy, too.

Erica has also found the way to strike the right balance between refusing to offer her opinions and backing off to let me make a decision. When we went dress shopping, most people who went with me said, "You should get whatever you like," or "Get that one! The other one looks awful on you!" Erica was the one who watched me for my reactions. She waited until she saw me put on the dress that made me happy. "That's the one," she said. And she was right. It was so nice having someone identify what I wanted from the embarrassment of choices at the bridal store. That's just the way she is, the way I aspire to be--helpful without ever being overbearing.

Erica has gone out of her way to be the helpful bridesmaid, but not in an annoying way. When she calls with a question she never says, "Why don't you do this?" or "You should ask Mom to do that." She calls and says, "I think we should do this. How can I help?" Her attitude has meant a lot to me, planning a wedding from afar. I haven't always taken up her offers, but I love knowing she's there to help no matter what.

Last night, for example, Erica called to tell me that the girl who had agreed to do my make-up backed out. I was disappointed--Erica knew I would be. But Erica never just calls with bad news. "Why don't you let me do your make-up?" she asked. Knowing I would be skeptical, she supported her offer with offers to learn from friends and on YouTube before a practice run the week before the wedding. She even volunteered to find a friend to do my make-up for me if I was too nervous about her doing it. Erica is the only person I know who offers help that way. She offered to put a lot of work into rendering me an important service, but gave me an easy out if I didn't want to take it. That's just Erica--my unassuming, always-generous, little sister/bridesmaid Erica. I am, as I always have been, grateful just to know her.

Enlightened

Catholics are used to accepting challenges of sexism in the Church. What could possibly be more sexist than a patriarchal organization with an all-male hierarchy? The Church controls women, telling them how to behave and imposing restrictions on their bodies, at least according to popular imagination. I have to say--although, as one of the "oppressed," my opinion may be tainted--that nothing could be further from the truth in my experience as a Catholic convert.

I've posted before about my early attempts to define my personal strengths within a masculine paradigm, trying to make myself more like a man to win the world's respect. It made me disliked (which was probably unfair) and utterly unhappy. It wasn't until I started exploring Catholicism that I discovered the Church's liberating teaching about the complementary strengths of men and women. I am special and equally valued for what I am as I was made.

I was delighted to find the same liberation in the very rite of marriage. For example, in many religious sects, the father of the bride or a trusted friend gives the bride to the groom; the Catholic Church rejects this teaching as a symbolic denial of a woman’s right to choose marriage for herself. I am the one who chooses my own destiny. My person and my maidenhead are mine to give to Adam just as much as he is his own person to give to me. Similarly, Catholic marriage vows affirm an equal partnership between bride and bridegroom. Even in the Old Rite, both partners make the same vow. No wife has to promise to obey.

There are many, I'm sure, who would still object to the Church's teaching about femininity and marriage. But I, for one, feel free and valued by the Church. I'm not just a machine for making little Catholics--Adam and I are a team, two partners representing humanity's relationship with the divine.

Apologies

I know I haven't reliably posted this month. I have three excuses.

First, with Adam in town, I don't need an outlet as desperately. It's always been difficult to maintain a blog while he's around. I'd rather spend time with him than writing.

Second, I'm writing an article (hopefully) for publication. It's made me less enthusiastic about writing blog posts.

Finally, with my wedding so imminent, it's difficult to force myself to think abstractly about marriage or weddings. I don't want to think about marriage--I want to be married.

So, I will do my best to keep the blog updated over the next eighteen days as my wedding approaches. Hopefully you can expect lots of pictures from the week-long celebration.

Thank you for bearing with me.

Wedding Nightmare #3

It has been a long time since I had a wedding nightmare. Overall, the planning has quieted. I'm more in love with Adam than words can describe. I feel calm and ready. Or at least I did until last night.

The dream started with my parents dropping me off at Target... after the wedding. For some reason, I didn't want to face the reception. I looked around Target for what I thought were a few hours. It was pretty dull.

There were some very cute children there with their parents. I tried to help them if they wanted a toy down from a shelf or play with them if they seemed to want a companion. But they all cried and their parents all made faces at me--none of them wanted my help.

Finally, I called my own parents to come and pick me back up. It was dark outside, which confused me. "What have you been doing?" Pop said, "It's nine o'clock."

"Did I miss the reception?" I asked, horrified.

"Of course you did," said Pop.

It soon became clear that I had abandoned Adam and all my guests. Adam had been left alone to cope with all of our family in friends--to eat cake alone, throw my bouquet, dance alone, and leave alone in a spray of unenthusiastic flower petals. He wasn't there when I got back to my empty house, strewn with party remains.

It was clear to me in the dream that I hadn't meant to skip the reception. I was so bitterly disappointed. All I'd wanted to do was spend a day with the man I love, celebrating with people who mean so much to me. But I failed. I forced myself to wake up before my heart broke in anger at myself.

The dream, I think, came from my anxiety about the RSVPs. I've let myself build up so much excitement about them that watching the responses roll has been a really emotion process. Maybe I've been so concerned about everyone else having a good time that I'm afraid I'll miss it or that I'll ruin it. And, what's worse, the dream seems to suggest that I'm afraid messing up at our reception bodes poorly for my marriage with Adam.

I Hate to Nag...

This is my second post on lessons remembered in For Women Only...


I'm sure I'm not the only woman who lives in fairly-constant fear of being a nag. It's the ultimate cultural rejection of the feminine, the exaggerated worst that all women can be. For many of us (at least I hope it's not just me), being a nag ranks with being a compulsive shopper or a binge eater--it's an abuse of what's good that tortures yourself and others.

That's why I was so disturbed in For Women Only by just how ready men are to perceive our actions as nagging. I thought husbands and wives were supposed to be teams, so I'm surprised and dismayed that men seem to perceive virtually any reminder to do something as nagging. If I'm Adam's helpmate, there has to be some ground here for helping him keep track of his massive to-do list.

Fortunately for me at least, I'm in love with a really reasonable man. I sat down and talked with him about what the book said and about my fear of nagging. While he agreed that reminders generally do seem like nagging, he conceded that my reminders are often useful or necessary. He plans to prove to me he doesn't need to be reminded before he expects me to give up trying to help me this way.

But what about women with less understanding husbands? I don't understand why mass culture is so ready to label a woman a nag. It seems unfair when I'm sure a majority of us are only trying to help when we remind our significant others of things. We're a team--if I do it out of love, I ought to be able to help him in whatever ways I sense are necessary without being accused of undermining him as a man. There has to be a compromise somewhere if only we're willing to discuss nagging together.

For Women Only doesn't really make pejorative claims about what women do or about what men think of it--the book merely presents women with information about how men think. But I think, in this case, the way men think is unfair. In the same way I'm sure few men would like us to accept the mass cultural image of them as mindless sex fiends, few women enjoy or deserve the title of "nag."

For Women Only

A few weeks ago, Adam confessed to me that he'd read my "secret book." It took me a few minutes to realize he meant he'd read For Women Only, an advice book on marriage given to me by a shower guest last spring. The book is subtitled "What You Need to Know about the Inner Lives of Men." Naturally, I had been a bit skeptical. I just thanked the guest, brought it home, and put in on a shelf. How good could a book with such a silly, over-broad premise possibly be?

That's why Adam's verdict surprised me: "it's really insightful," he said. So I've been reading it over the past couple of days. I have to confess that little in the book so far has been particularly surprising. I've always taken for granted that I understand men pretty well generally--and Adam very well particularly. Chapters like "Why Your Respect Means More to Him than Even Your Affection" and "Why Your Mr. Smooth Looks So Impressive but Feels Like an Impostor" didn't offer much information I didn't already know.

But the book has been an excellent reminder of what I ought to do. The entire premise is that women do things to men they ought not to because they don't know better. But I often do things to Adam that I ought not and I do know better. I have no excuse.

In particular, I felt very unhappy with myself when I read the section about making fun of men in public. I love Adam and respect him more than any other man alive. I consider him skilled and capable--he does a wonderful job taking care of me already and we're not even living under the same roof. That's why, to me, his few failings are so adorable. They're incongruous in my eyes--ironic and funny. I like to point out funny things to other people. But it isn't okay if my jests make Adam feel less valued or respected.

To be fair to myself, I don't think I developed this bad habit on my own. Interactions with many other couples, sitcoms, commercials... pop culture encourages us to have gentle fun at the expense of our significant others. It's a dynamic that people interacting with young couples often expect or even encourage. It seems so ingrained that, even though I know it's wrong, I have a hard time imagining public life without good-natured jokes at Adam's expense.

Then I think back to my parents' marriage. No ones marriage is perfect, but I have never doubted my parents respect for each other. I've never seen my mother make fun of my father in public--or my father make fun of her, for that matter. My mother runs my father's business, so it's beautiful to see the faith they really have in each others' abilities. Everyone on their staff knows they feel this way about one another. In my memory, they've never even undermined each other's abilities at home in front of their children. My parents prove that it is possible to have a fun marriage without disrespecting each other for a laugh. Besides, there must be other ways to keep a party lively without embarrassing anecdotes--my parents are far more entertaining than I'll ever be.

Shaunti Feldhahn, the author of For Women Only, is right. My love for Adam, my desire for him to understand how much I appreciate and respect him--these things are far more important than a good joke. Making this sorts of jabs is a habit that may take a while to break. But I will do my best because I still believe that--after salvation and conversion--Adam is the greatest thing that has happened or ever will happen to me.

If the book continues to deliver insights, I'll continue to deliver posts. You can find out more about the book here. T-minus 25 days and counting!

Feeling "Supported"

A few days ago, I posted about the pleasure of learning to make "grown-up" decisions with Adam. The most difficult part of learning to think like a team has been learning to "own" each others decisions. We both tend to blame decisions that don't quite work out on each other, so it's been an interesting learning processing accepting someone else's ideas as our own decisions.

As for me, I like to blame boring evenings on Adam--"if we'd listened to me we would have had a lot more fun," etc. For Adam, learning to take responsibility for money we both spend has been more difficult. It's not that he's a cheapskate, but we need to be careful right now and he gets irritable when he thinks we aren't being. That's why I was especially nervous about asking him if we had the money for me to seek treatment for the chronic pain in my shoulders. Having tried everything else I could think of, I was ready to try acupuncture. I wasn't sure at all what Adam would say about such an expensive and somewhat questionable treatment.

I wasn't giving Adam enough credit. He completely accepted my need and my desire to try acupuncture. We sat down and talked about how to cut back on the budget and that we could afford a few visits to the acupuncturist before my job started. As I should have known, he never grumbled or complained about a legitimate expense.

But he didn't just support my decision financially--he invested himself in it. He actively encouraged me to find a doctor. He even came to the appointment with me--having him sit through my interview with the doctor and listen to my medical history was a surprisingly intimate experience. He sat in the room with me, calming my fears about needles. He even lay on the floor to talk to me through the hole in the table. (He said I looked like a chubby astronaut.)

I guess I learned from this experience that, even though we might fight about incidental expenses (which do, of course, add up), I should trust Adam to be willing to spend money where it is important. I learned to appreciate how supportive he is of me--financially, personally, physically, and spiritually. We're a team, partners. If we can learn to make responsible decisions without arguing in large matters, perhaps we can learn to make them in small matters, too.

Wedding Party: Lindsay the Maid of Honor

Part three in my on-going series about the wedding party. My maid of honor stands out from the bride's side of the wedding party--by almost a full six inches. But she's extraordinary for more than her height. She's different from anyone I've ever met.

I've posted before about what I went through in early life trying to make friends with women. It happened to me a few, lucky times, but friendships with women never felt right. I felt like I was treading on egg shells, waiting to say something stupid so the relationship could implode.

Then I met Lindsay. In the three years I've known Lindsay, she's never once made me feel stupid, unwanted, or unloved. I don't feel like our friendship is perpetually at risk. As a matter of fact, Lindsay may be the first woman outside of my family whose unconditional friendship I've been able to accept. I know it doesn't sound like much, but for me, it's a miracle. It's just the way Lindsay is--she loves in a way it's impossible not to accept and cherish.

I picked Lindsay out of my four bridesmaids as the maid of honor not only for the awesomeness of her friendship, but also because she's the most qualified for maid-of-honorly duties. She's the only one, for example, to keep my train in order and to bustle my dress correctly when the wedding is over. Adam calls her my "craft mamma" (because that is one area in which my mother is definitely deficient), so Lindsay has helped me with whatever little DIY crafts have popped up as part of the wedding-planning process. Plus, Lindsay is always a rational eye of calm in any storm.

All in all, Lindsay is a fun, capable, and loving woman I'm honored to have as my maid of honor. If Adam's on my right, there's no one I'd rather have on my left-hand side the day of my wedding.

(Yes--in the picture we are bathing in corn.)

Growing Up

I know getting married doesn't really coincide with "growing up" for many people anymore, but it does for Adam and me. Not that I don't respect graduate students as adults, and not that many of them don't have to support themselves far more than Adam and I did--but for Adam and I, this is our first try at a lot of grown-up things.

As inconvenient as it has been applying for an apartment from another country, trying to cope with health insurance, and trying to register a rebuilt, out-of-state car, these are all experiences I'm glad to have shared with Adam.

My parents got married at eighteen and, to be frank, had been largely taking care of themselves for years. Mom paid for Pop to go through law school. Pop worked as a janitor at UGA to help contribute. For extra money, they cleaned up repossessed mobile homes on the weekends. All of the first experiences of being grown up--health care, insurance, personal car ownership, apartment leasing--they experienced together. That was always one of my favorite things about my parents' relationship, a probable cause of the great closeness in their marriage today--thirty-five years later. My parents finished growing up together. It's given them a closeness, a trust in each other--and a youthful glow to their marriage--that I have never really seen in other couples' marriages.

I know we are never truly finished growing and changing. I sure hope to be someone better at fifty than I am at twenty-four. But I'm glad that this last bit of "growing-up," transitioning into adulthood, is something I can share with Adam. Dealing with the stresses and excitement has already drawn us closer as a couple. I hope that our shared experience continues to be an asset in our married life.

A Month To Go

Today marks the beginning of a month-long count down to our wedding!

But because both of our summer jobs feel through--and I've been spending about fifteen hours a day with Adam--it's hard to believe the wedding hasn't happened already. It's very difficult to imagine how different our lives will be. But I look forward to being a real grown-up with a full-time job and coming home to a husband whom I love.

Natural Family Planning versus the Fertility Awareness Method

I've tried not to blog very much about NFP because it's a topic that can make people pretty squeamish. Don't worry. I'm not going to go into graphic detail here. But NFP classes have become a fairly standard part of marriage preparation for a Catholic couple, so I think it's only right that I think about them and discuss them as a part of the larger project of this blog.

It's difficult to talk about NFP and FAM to people who don't know what they are. I've entertained a lot of jokes about the calendar method and the likelihood of becoming a parent soon after my wedding. (Just to clear up an urban myth, NFP and FAM are about 98% effective when used correctly.) But NFP and FAM are not just about avoiding pregnancy. They're a lifestyle choice and one which, quite frankly, is much healthier for the woman and statistically a part of a stronger marriage.

Because Adam and I have been WAY out of town, we've had to go about NFP training on our own. I bought a book I found on-line, Taking Charge of Your Fertility, and Adam and I read through it together. In all honesty, I bought this particular book because it's a secular book--I thought I would be happier with a more objective discussion. It's about the Fertility Awareness Method--which means it's the same idea as Natural Family Planning, but the emphasis is on the method's benefits to a woman's health and a couple's relationship rather than on the Church's teaching.

Reading Taking Charge of Your Fertility made me feel empowered. It unabashedly discussed the most intimate details of my anatomy in rational, "grown-up" terms. It encouraged me to accept everything that makes me a woman, even the sometimes-gross bits, and encouraged Adam to learn about and accept them, too. As someone who has suffered horrible consequences from hormonal birth control (taken for medical reasons), I loved how much time the book spent highlighting how much better for a woman it is to stay off the pill--and the unfairness that women, who are much less fertile than men, are expected to bear the burden (and often disquieting side effects) of birth control. When I finished the book, I felt more capable as a woman and more ready to share myself with my husband after our wedding.

Trying to get the same information from the Church's Natural Family Planning resources has been a completely different experience.

The Natural Family Planning booklets and websites I've found take what made me feel empowered and make it into an obligation imposed on me by a male-dominated hierarchy. I don't feel like I'm choosing what's best for my body; I feel like I'm trapped in a reactionary former age. The very same materials which the secular book presented to me in a "grown-up," scientific way are euphemized--or at least dumbed down. I'm not empowered by a better knowledge of my body; I'm condescended to and made to feel ashamed of my feminity. I can't even find a doctor to talk to me about some of my specific questions, which makes a perfectly legitimate method of monitoring my own health seem ineffective and backwards. NFP materials have made me feel ashamed of a choice I was proud of. That's really inexcusable.

It's not that we've met anyone involved with NFP who didn't mean very, very well. But it's a dreadful shame that the Church is failing to convince couples to use an effective form of fertility management proven to be more healty and correlated with stronger, happier marriages. We as Catholics really ought to reexamine the way we present NFP to ourselves and to the larger world.

Mamma Mia!

Adam and I watched Mamma Mia together three days ago. (I should have posted about it then, but I haven't been feeling very well. Apologies.) Just as I was when I saw the touring show and when I saw the movie the first time, I was again conflicted about the musical's dubious message about marriage.

In the musical, a young bride-to-be invites the three men who might be her father--none of whom she has ever met--to her wedding. Hilarity ensues. At the musical's climax, the protagonist finds herself satisfied with her family background. Her wish to find her family is fulfilled. So she cancels the wedding. She and her fiance won't marry now--they'll see the world together first.

Adam insists that they may well have made the right decision. She was using marriage to fill a whole in her life that she needed to fill some other way. Besides, they're young and may not be ready to spend their lives together yet. After all, he reminds me, we did important things with our lives and put off marriage for three years. People shouldn't rush into marriage.

In a way, I guess he's right. Marriage isn't a decision to take lightly or to rush into. But still, I think the musical portrays a destructive image of marriage. The hero and heroine don't want to go out and follow their dreams separately for a few years, as Adam and I did. They want to explore the world together--but they seem to think of marriage as some sort of impediment. Marriage, to them, seems to be a kind of kill joy, a choice to settle down and stay home after the adventures of youth are over.

That's not how I was raised to think of marriage. My parents have always insisted that marriage is its own adventure but, more than that, their married life has been actively exciting. They've traveled. They've run for public office. They've met the who's who of the Deep South. But the difference between my parents and the couple in Mamma Mia is this: my parents have sought and met adventure as a team. The hero and heroine of the musical go out into the world as separate individuals seeking the same adventures; my parents have done and do it as a single entity with a shared story to tell.

That's what I want for my marriage, too. I'm not ready to give up my adventure--though some might accuse me of being less adventurous than most. I'm ready to join my adventure to Adam so we can pursue our lives, our dreams, our vocations together.

Clean Living

I've already posted about some reservations Adam and I share about wedding registries. But, since we opted to have one, we might as well do it right... As you may already know, Etsy makes me very happy. Local, small scale, often eco-friendly artisans with an on-line community rock. Because of Etsy's structure--many items are one-of-a-kind--it isn't really possible to register with Etsy. But I was inspired by a Wedding Bee who decided to create an Etsy registry anyway.

So here's my compilation of things that would enrich our lives a little bit after we're married. It seems a little disingenuous to need some stuff in order to need less stuff, but I've tried to pick things that will stay useful for a long, long time. (If nothing else, we can keep them on a wish-list for later!):

For the kitchen:
Must-have chopsticks!
Gorgeous salad tongs
Gorgeous cooking and serving utensils!
Gorgeous butcher board!
Recycled wine bottle tumblers--let's get eight!

For the home:
Window herb garden
Indoor flower pots and watering can
A broom broom!

For life on the go:
Reusable sandwich bags--I love the giraffe
Reusable lunch kit=awesome!

For reducing and reusing:
A plastic bag dryer--brilliant idea!
Eco-friendly laundry detergent--will it work?
Reusable dryer sheets
Reusable Swiffer pad--all the ease, none of the guilt!
Plastic bag sock
Reusable produce bags--didn't know these existed!

Just for fun:
A secret compartment book--always wanted one!

Are there any gorgeous, hand-made items you crave for your house or apartment?

The Ideal of Marriage?

I spend so much time on my blog talking about the ideal of marriage, the meaning of marriage, and the significance of marriage that I sometimes forget about what marriage--and relationships headed in that direction--actually look like. We're a fallen people in a fallen world. The ideal of marriage is an aspiration, not an achievable reality. It's easy to aspire to an ideal when your boyfriend is an ocean away, but somewhat harder when your fiance is in the room with you.

Take today for example. Adam and I set buying wedding rings as our daily goal. What started as an innocent internet search for DC-area jewelers turned into a senseless argument about how we ought to make decisions. When we took a few minutes to cool off before we sat down to talk about what happened, I couldn't help but think Is this really us? Is this the best we can do? I thought marriage was our vocation--why is this happening?

In the end, we learned a valuable lesson about listening and about communicating our expectations to each other. But, more than that, I learned something about ideals. I can't get upset when we fall short of them. It's going to happen. A fight doesn't mean we're not called to married life. It just means we're not perfect. And making up, reaching a compromise, loving each other anyway--these are special blessings in marriage for a fallen people.

Beatrico

After a brief hiatus in Georgia to pick up the new car (aka "the Millenium Falcon"), ...and Enide is back...

Over the past few days, Adam and I have found ourselves re-exploring Dante's Divina Comedia. Both of us read The Inferno in high school, but neither of us has ever explored the rest of the three-part poem in depth. I'm only now realizing how deprived I've been.

In The Inferno, Dante finds himself alone in a dark wood. Virgil (of Aneid fame) finds the frightened Dante and proposes that they both undertake a most surprising journey--through hell, past purgatory, into heaven. Virgil guides him through the nine circles of hell, protecting him from demons and monsters, until they escape hell and begin to climb the mountain of purgatory. Again, Virgil prove himself a loving and powerful guide through purgatory. At the gates of heaven, the pagan Virgil leaves Dante in the care of Dante's beloved Beatrice.

The first time I read the poem, I focused on Virgil. Virgil is Dante's guide in his imaginative realms of hell and purgatory, as well as a literary guide for the writing of the poem itself. I've only gradually realized that to pay attention only to Virgil--even in The Inferno and Purgatorio--is to completely miss the point. Beatrice is Dante's guide in the poem, and in his life, whether she is present or not.

In my own defense, I think I lacked the context to understand Beatrice's role when I read the poem as a Protestant. She's Dante's intercessor, the one who brings his cause before heaven. It's a role saints like Beatrice can only play when we accept the communion of all believers, living and dead. Even in the darkest pits of hell, Beatrice sends Dante help and hope.

But Beatrice is far more than intercessor. She's an active guide in Paradiso, but also in The Inferno and Purgatorio, as well as in the whole of Dante's life. Her name itself--meaning "bringer of gladness"--takes on an allegorical meaning. She is the person in which Dante sees God. She's no false idol for Dante, but a presence that makes him feel irradiated with God's love. Dante sees God in Beatrice. Thinking about her, writing about her, striving to reach the heaven in which she resides--all these things draw Dante closer to God. Her role as guide through heaven is the perfect allegorical fulfillment of her role in Dante's life.

That's a role I never understood until I fell in love. Adam is my "Beatrico." In his love, I feel God's love for me shining through. Adam's goodness and compassion give me a model for behavior, but by themselves draw me closer to God. He's not just my fiance and won't just be my husband. He's also a walking allegory, a representation of what God's love looks like and feels like. That's why I feel so strongly called to the vocation of marriage--the love of the man I hope to call my spouse draws me further up in and further in to God's love every day.

Self-Sufficency... Overrated

I grew up with a healthy, Southern-American idealization of the sternly self-sufficient man--the man (or woman) who pulls him(or her)self up by his (or her) proverbial bootstraps. I fell for the Randian image of humanity where man reigns supreme when he is completely his own.

As an adult, I no longer idealize the self-sufficient man. The Catholic Church taught me to revere Christian community--the same community that Southern-American culture practices, even if it doesn't necessarily preach. Aristotle taught me that only God-like men and beasts can live outside of political life. And joyful experience has taught me that life with love and community is richer and more meaningful.

Getting married has been an amazing way to see the communities in which Adam and I live. We're so lucky to have friends and family across two continents who wish us well. And here, back in DC, we're extremely fortunate to have friends who have been really generous with their resources, time, and companionship. Just today, Adam and I picked up a bedroom set from my school's secretary, had a friend come over to help us move it up the three flights of stairs to our apartment (no elevator), and made dinner in the borrowed kitchen of my maid of honor. Our friends and family have really invested themselves into helping Adam and I build a life together.

No man can live on his own. But he was never meant to. Life really is richer and more meaningful in a community of people who take care of each other. We're so grateful that God has blessed us with such a wonderful group of friends and family.

The Scarlet Pimpernel and Marriage

One of the fondest memories of former Brookewood seventh-graders seems to be reading Baroness Orczy's The Scarlet Pimpernel. Never one to willingly disappoint, I duly picked up the novel to read over the summer so I could read it with my new students when the school year starts. So, when my maid of honor forced me to watch The Scarlet Pimpernel on DVD, I was shocked and appalled by the shear banality of the story.

The film tells the story of an outrageous fop who secretly helps rescue French nobility from the jaws of the guillotine in the year of grace 1792. His wife, unaware of his alter-ego, unwittingly aids her ex-lover, now-French-special-agent in the discovery of her husband. The story follows the trite pattern of a super-hero movie where the beautiful, hapless heroine discovers the secret identity of her noble lover. There is, of course, a daring series of intrigues leading up to a predictable climax. Not literature.

But the film fundamentally misunderstands the novel. The novel isn't about the Scarlet Pimpernel, or Sir Percival Blakely, at all. It's about his wife, Lady Marguerite Blakely, and the couple's discovery what marriage really is.

In the novel, the audience sees inside the mind of Lady Blakely. She, too, has been taken in by the foppish facade of her aristocratic husband. She married him because he stood out as the most devoted among countless admirers. He has ceased to love her. She cannot understand why and holds him in contempt for his unintelligence.

She is so selfishly caught up in her own world that when the French agent presents her with a terrifying choice--whether to save her brother from the guillotine at the price of helping to identify the Scarlet Pimernel--she never seriously considers going to her husband for aid. She has too little respect for him as a person and a man to trust him. Only later, the dirty deed irrevocably done, does she think to speak with him about what has happened.

When she starts to speak with him, the audience finally finds out what motivates them both--what estranges them and ruins their marriage. Pride. The night they were married, Sir Percival discovered that his wife had sent someone to the guillotine. Trusting in his undying devotion, Lady Blakley proudly refused him an explanation. Out of pride, Sir Percival hid all his affection from her, unwilling for the world to see his love for the heartless women he then believed his wife to be. Out of pride, Lady Blakely refused to tell him how unwitting her betrayal had been. For a year, they hadn't shown each other the mutual affection they smolders beneath the surface of their cold relationship or to tell each other the truths the long to reveal.

The rest of the novel chronicles Lady Blakely's gradual realization who her husband is and the terrible betrayal she has made out of ignorance. To save him, she tracks him to Dover and then across the channel to France. In an inversion of the story of Erec and Enide, she slowly realises that her doddering fool is the bravest and most competent man in Europe. She regrets that she has been so blinded by pride that she could not detect his identity sooner and spare the betrayal. When they are safe, Sir Percival in turn laments the pain and suffering his proud reticence caused his wife.

The filmed versions of The Scarlet Pimpernel make into an adventure story what is actually a beautiful love story. The novel's brilliance lies in Lady Blakely's slow discovery how strong and masculine her husband is. It lies in Sir Percival's hard-won realization how important honesty is in a relationship. And it lies in the couple's final understanding that pride has no place in a happy, open marriage.

Male and Female He Created Them

Sexuality affects all aspects of the human person in the unity of his body and soul. It especially concerns affectivity, the capacity to love and to procreate, and in a more general way the aptitude for forming bonds of communion with others.

Everyone, man and woman, should acknowledge and accept his sexual identity. Physical, moral, and spiritual difference and complementarity are oriented toward the goods of marriage and the flourishing of family life. The harmony of the couple and of society depends in part on the way in which the complementarity, needs, and mutual support between the sexes are lived out.

"In creating men 'male and female,' God gives man and woman an equal personal dignity." "Man is a person, man and woman equally so, since both were created in the image and likeness of the personal God."

Each of the two sexes is an image of the power and tenderness of God, with equal dignity though in a different way.
--Catechism of the Catholic Church

There is a beautiful George MacDonald story called The Myth of Photogen and Nycteris. In the tale, the witch Watho abducts two young children--a boy and a girl. She raises the boy to be strong and fearless, but to never encounter the dark. She raises the girl to be wise and calm, but to never see light brighter than a small globe in her otherwise pitch-black room. Eventually, the two discover each other and make a daring escape from the witch's kingdom. It takes all of their shared talents and virtues to make the journey alive.

The story is, on top of being a brilliant tale in its own right, a poignant allegory for the relationship between men and women. Photogen is deeply involved in the world, strong, able to take care of Nycteris. Nycteris is my retired, thoughtful, but able to get Photogen through the darkest nights and his deepest fears. As a child, I loved that image of cooperation, love between two perfect equals necessary for each others' completeness. As a grown woman, soon to marry my own Photogen, I find the story even more compelling.

Perhaps that's why I was deeply disturbed to hear a Catholic priest recently questioning the idea that men and women have separate but complimentary virtues. That idea has been so fundamentally important to me as I've learned to accept and then love my identity as a woman. I don't want to go back to defining my worth by how well I embody the virtues I admire in men: strength, directness, assertiveness. Those aren't my virtues--when I tried to pretend they were, the only made me unhappy and disliked. But, if they aren't male virtues, why did valuing them feel so fundamentally wrong?

The priest's claim was that language about complementarity has only come into the Church's teaching during the past fifty years or so. As he frames it, the emphasis on men and women's separate virtues is a reaction to the feminist revolution--a resurgence of conservatism on the part of the Catholic Church. "I don't remember this kind of wording from my childhood," he said. Another priest corroborated. In a few days of searching, I haven't been able to find a single document that solidly proves them wrong. Even the texts cited in the Catechism (quoted above) all post-date Vatican II.

But what if the priest's causation is wrong. What if the emphasis on male and female virtue isn't a conservative redefinition? The Chuch didn't strongly assert the Oness of the Trinity until it was denied by the Nestorians. And it didn't clarify the two natures of Christ until the Monophysites challenged it. The Church only stands up to declare something true once someone else claims it is false. Otherwise, the Church usually takes the truth for granted.

What if, then, the new emphasis of male and female virtue is another case where the Church has stood up to say, "Wait. This is what we've always believed!"? What if the Church is warning us about the loss of a fundamental perception of ourselves that has always been our privilege and our right? What if complementarity--the truth of men and women being created by God as perfect physical and spiritual pairs--is true at so basic a level that no one ever bother up to defend it until it was challenged?

I don't know if I'm right. I don't know if I've bought into a reactionary conservative redefinition of my sexuality that encourages me to accept domination and control. But I do know that this image of femininity, that I am a Nycertis naturally equipped to love my husband and children, makes me feel more liberated and happy than the idea that I had to force myself to be like a man ever did. No two human beings have the same set of virtues, but I'll continue to work toward the compassion and love that I believe are the special aptitude of my sex

Our Hundreth Post: Moved In Again

It seems only appropriate that ...and Enide's hundredth post commemorates a huge milestone in my life with Adam. We signed our lease on Friday. The two of us now rent an apartment together.

Neither Adam nor I have been independent, self-sufficient adults since I went back to graduate school two years ago. We've lived independently and paid our own rent (for the most part), but across continents and oceans. We're starting over in DC with very little. We've bought a car. We getting our own health and car insurance for the first time. We're furnishing an apartment with our own ingenuity--not Ikea stuff, but real furniture. There's a lot of tedium in store for us in the next few weeks. But I like that, for us, the process of becoming grown-up people is a part of our marriage experience. It's something that we get to share, the final steps of growing up together. When I move into our apartment after the wedding, I'll be moving into a home we've built together--just for the two of us.

The pictures are of our apartment complex and the park near our apartment. I'll post more pictures of our apartment as we decorate.

Invitations: Double Check!

I was hoping to post yesterday about the joys of signing our first shared lease, which we have done, but we've mislaid the camera and all the photographs of this momentous event. Instead, I give you the completed invitations:


We're mailing invitations on Tuesday or Wednesday, as soon as they arrive!

Shoujo Anime... or Even More Marriage Advice in Another Unexpected Place

Shoujo isn't a genre but a demographic. Unlike shonen manga, written for junior-high-aged boys (like Onegai Sensei) or seinen manga, written for eighteen- to thirty-year-old men (like Saikano), shoujo anime and manga is written for young women. As such, it tends to focus on human relationships and emotions. Honestly, most shoujo anime and mange is pretty cheesy. But, occassionally, it can be uplifting and insightful.

Fruits Basket is one of the more thoughtful shoujo mangas I've read. The heroine, Tohru, moves into a tent on a large tract of land after her widowed mother dies, leaving her without a place to live. The owners of the land discover her and invite her to move into their home as a cook, cleaner, and surrogate sister. Of course there's a twist. The owners and certain members of the rest of their family are possessed by the animals of the Chinese zodiac. They lose their human form when they are especially weakened by exhaustion or illness, or by physical contact with members of the opposite sex. Needless to say, hillarity ensues.

The manga explores a number of themes relevant and interesting to fifteen-year-old girls and maybe more than its fair share of romance and pubescant sexual tension. These are well-developed, but nothing new. But the manga also dwells on the significance and importance of physical intimacy for all kinds of human relationships in a meaningful way.

For a family that can't even hug without being transformed into a rat or a cow, intimacy is rare and sporadic. Many of the young men in the series were raised by mothers who couldn't hold them, who can't even help care for their younger siblings. Many of their mothers break down under the pressure of being denied the simple but vital priveledge of holding their babies. Most of the characters cursed by the zodiac have been raised by parents who are distant or absent at best, physically and emotionally abusive at worst. Their inability to touch their parents only makes the distance between them more difficult to bridge.

Even worse, none of the members of the zodiac are--can be--in meaningful romantic relationships. They live in the fear of what will happen if their lover touches them. In the end, they run away from love to avoid that fear. These are people who love deeply and crave meaning in their relationships with others, but whose curse denies them the priveldge they so crave. It's only at the end of the manga, when they finally break the curse, that any of the relationships which have been growing for the 136-chapter manga blossom.

The manga forced me to think about my own attitude toward physical intimacy in romantic relationships. I was raised in a religious tradition that seemed to have a love-hate relatonship with sexuality. Abstinence before marriage was clearly pivotal, so sex was villanized to preteens and teens. But that attitude contrasted sharply with the beautiful connection my parents and others like them obviously had. I didn't know what to think. Was physicality important for relationships or not? Was sex evil?

Since becomming Catholic, and learning more about the theology of marriage, I've developed a much better understanding--in the academic sense, at least--of just how important physical intimacy in relationships is. A marriage isn't even a marriage until it is consummated. And a consummated marriage, a physical oneness between husband and wife, is a natural and beautiful state created by God at the very dawn of human history. Touch is a part of human existence. A lover who can't touch, a husband who can't become one--these are tragedic figures.

Fruits Basket is the story of young men and women overcoming their personal tragedies, fighting against their curse for the priveledge of physical contact. It is marvelously insightful for capturing just how important physical intimacy--or at least the promise of physical intimacy--is for a romantic relationship. A hug, a kiss can make all the difference during a courtship. And a total personal openess, a perfect gift of self, is a vital part of a working marriage.

This is the third part in an unintentional series on marriage in anime and manga. You can see my posts on Saikano and Onegai Sensei. You can also read Fruits Basket on-line here.

Real, Live Fiance

I picked Adam up from the airport on Monday night. I hadn't seen him in person in nine weeks, twelve hours, and about thirty minutes. But he's here now and--as far as any of us are able to foresee--here to stay...

Despite the hypocrisy of my position, long distance relationships still aren't something I condone or encourage. They turn your beloved into two separate, sometimes irreconcilable people. I'm engaged to two Adams: a flat, distant, sometimes Adam and a very real, dynamic, right-here Adam. Every time I see him, I have to bring the two together, like trying to force double vision back to the way it belongs in the middle of a bad headache. The experience isn't now and never has been pleasant.

Flat, distant, sometimes Adam has his advantages. It's difficult to get into a serious argument with him. It's easier to get things done--like writing regular blog posts--when I only spend an hour a day with him. And when we've spent the other twenty-three hours apart, it's often easier to come up with things to talk about.

Most of all, though, it's easier to put myself before sometimes Adam. I decide how important it is to talk to him. If I'm tired or if I've got something I'd rather do, we don't talk. I have more self-determination about the way I spend my time. I set priorities differently when Adam isn't around to set him first.

It isn't that right-here Adam is controlling. Far from it. It's that, without him around, there's no presence to constantly remind me to put other people first. I'm more selfish when he isn't around. If my vocation is to marriage, being in a relationship where marriage is the ultimate goal enriches who I am, makes me want to be a more loving person to him and everyone I meet. It's just that constant, self-imposed moral pressure like that is a little difficult to get used to every time we've been apart.

There are other benefits to right-here Adam, too. Right-here Adam can hold me and kiss me. He can make me feel loved and appreciated in ways sometimes Adam never, ever could. He can be a helpmate--he spends so much time reading with me, helping me cook, comforting me when I'm sitting in traffic... These are things sometimes Adam just isn't capable of.

So, in the end, I always have to remember that I love both Adams. The fun, witty sometimes Adam I talk to on the phone and the deeper, more loving Adam I see in front of me now every day. It's just that right-here Adam is more dynamic, more human. I'm very grateful for that and look forward to spending the rest of my life with a guy of his depth.

Comments

I've just been informed that people have had a difficult time commenting on my blog. I've opened comments to annonymous users--at least for the time being. Your thoughts are always welcomed!

Wedding Party: Amy the Bridesmaid

Part two in my series on why I picked my wedding party...

...well, I guess I didn't pick Amy. Amy is my sister. But, even if she wasn't, I would still love to have Amy as a friend and bridesmaid.

Amy brings the fun to our wedding party. That's just who she is. As a life-long worrier and stick-in-the-mud, I've been very lucky to have her around. She's always got a smile on her face and a joke on her lips. She's been the one reminding me that wedding dress shopping is supposed to be fun. And she's the one who constantly reminds me how beautiful I look.

But Amy is more than a party-maker. She also has an unusually keen sense of perspective. Where my mother and I tend to lose focus, she reminds us what is and isn't important. When the bridesmaids' dresses are the wrong length, she reminds us, "Everyone will still look beautiful." But when I fall in love with a slightly over-budget veil, she chides, "You've stayed in budget everywhere else. Go for it."

Best of all, Amy's an honest critic. In a wedding-party whose most frequent response is "We like whatever you like," she really stands out as frank and open. As much as I appreciate the open-mindedness of the rest of my wedding party, I'm extremely grateful for Amy's candid judgments about the dress, the veil, the band... When she doesn't like something, she lets me know. As a result, I also know her compliments and praises are sincere. When she oohs and aahs and begs to borrow my dress when she marries, I know she really loves it.

Amy spent the last two days on a long trek from Atlanta to DC via the Machina Mysteriorum. I can't really thank her enough for her concrete, practical help in starting my new life with Adam or for her more abstract ability to help my mother and I stay sane. If you're choosing bridesmaids, you'd be well-served to choose a fun and earnest friend to balance your party.

Staying at Home

I know it's a bit early to think about raising children, but it's been on my mind the past few days.

When we went through our marriage prep course, Adam and I were heavily encouraged to discuss whether or not I would stay home. Adam thinks it is almost absolutely necessary for me to stay home with our children, whereas I'm a little more ambivalent. It's not that we don't agree on the importance of having a mother at home--at least before the kids start school--it's that I'm afraid I may go absolutely stir crazy and feel like a burden, rather than someone who contributes to society.

I couldn't figure out why I felt this way. Women have stayed home with children for thousands of years. Why did I think I was special? Then, reading my old Little House on the Prairie Cookbook, it hit me: staying at home used to be an absolutely vital and valued job.

Prior to the last century, staying at home was undeniably and necessarily a full-time job that contributed to the family and society in many necessary ways. If mom didn't stay home, no one ate vegetables or learned how to read. Without mom, the house was filthy, the family went naked. The elderly and the sick in the community went unfed. No one could doubt the importance of mom in such a role. No mom could feel undervalued or unhelpful. Compare that to today: in our less self-sufficient society, a mom's only necessary roles are nanny and shopper. Where's the sense of value and purpose in that?

It's not that I'm critical of modern stay-at-home moms. In many ways, it's much more of a sacrifice and an admirable thing to do to take a job society-at-large no longer values as it ought. Many, many moms do something great with their time at home with their children--they become far more than the nannies and shoppers society invites them to be. But I think it's obvious now--and I can't believe it never occurred to me before--that women left the home because they no longer felt needed and wanted there. The by-the-book position of "stay-at-home-mom" is merely a vestige of the beautiful and glorious thing it was before.

Adam's right, I know, about the importance of a mother staying home. We were both lucky enough to have mothers who did extraordinary things with their roles--teaching us, taking us to amazing places, serving as active members of the community... I hope, if I think about their examples--and if Adam and I continue to make our home as sustainable and self-sufficient as we can--I can contribute as much as they did to my family and to society and stay at home.

The Veil

You may remember the veil saga. I am proud to announce that it is over. Adam beautifully and sympathetically told me he trusts me to choose something than makes me look and feel beautiful. I have. And I love it.

You can find a series of photos here. I would ask Adam not to look.

There should be more posts of substance soon. I'm in the process of moving to Washington, DC.

More Oxford

I'm leaving Oxford this morning at four am. If you're one of my readers from outside of Oxford and just haven't had enough of Oxford yet, I suggest you direct your browser to Exetera, the new webcomic/blog of one of my very best Oxford friends, Ruth. Hilarity will ensue, I promise.

Abundance

Without going into too much personal detail, I have to own up a little concern about living expenses for the summer. I've been living fairly frugally in Oxford (and Adam in Seattle), but frugal living isn't really the kind of living I like. It's not that I crave a life of luxury or nice new things. But I would like to go out to a nice dinner or two with friends, to throw parties with nice food, or to be able to buy nice presents for others. A summer back in DC with people I love but no money seems...well... unideal.

That's why I was so encouraged by today's scripture reading, 2 Corinithians 9: 6-11:

Consider this: whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.Each must do as already determined, without sadness or compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. Moreover, God is able to make every grace abundant for you, so that in all things, always having all you need, you may have an abundance for every good work. As it is written: "He scatters abroad, he gives to the poor; his righteousness endures forever." The one who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed and increase the harvest of your righteousness. You are being enriched in every way for all generosity, which through us produces thanksgiving to God.

I know money isn't necessary to do nice things for others. But I felt really blessed by the reminder that God will take care of us and that always, no matter what, there will be enough leftover for us to help take care of others, too.

Picking a Fight

In our marriage prep, Adam and I have been told time and time again to watch out for the "first big fight." We've both found the idea of fighting difficult to imagine. Neither of us tend to get into loud arguments with others--at least not anymore. We've never had a real explosive fight between the two of us. Neither of our parents fight very often, so it isn't a learned behavior. Besides, what would we fight about?

Over the past few weeks, I've begun to understand. Making adult decisions for the "real world" has thrown us into a context where arguments seem possible where they never had before.

Adam and I aren't good at making decisions on our own. He tends to put them off and then make them impulsively. I fret endlessly, weigh the pros and cons before, unable to decide, I choose arbitrarily. Those two habits don't make for good shared decision making. Choosing a car, deciding what to do for summer work, signing a lease on an apartment--these things are all opportunities for arguments to begin I'd never really thought about.

No, we haven't had (and I hope won't have) any explosive arguments. Our relationship isn't in danger. I still love Adam more than I can possibly say. But I think I understand now why people who love each other have arguments about seemingly-unimportant things: those "unimportant things" are actually fairly important decisions people don't know how to make. It's very, very difficult to make shared decisions. I'm glad we became aware of it now so we can work on the skill together.

Loved, Part Two: CLC

I think you'll have to indulge a few days of nostalgia, or else come back next week when my life is a bit more settled. I'm leaving Oxford on Thursday. I'm trying to spend the next few days digesting what I've learned.

One of the priests at the chaplaincy suggested to me in October that I ought to join the Christian Life Community group here in Oxford as part of my marriage preparation. CLC is a lay Jesuit organization based on small groups of Catholic Christians praying together in community. The prayer is usually done as imaginative contemplation. To begin with, I was really skeptical. Imaginative contemplation seemed like a glorified RPG with disciples instead of wizards and a prayer guide instead of a DM. I've been really blessed to find out I was wrong.

I've posted before about imaginative contemplation. But I don't think I've put much effort into conveying how special and life-changing the community has been for me. There are six of us--three guys and three girls. We meet once a week to talk and pray. It's been absolutely wonderful being a such a consistently open and loving community. I've felt really loved and cherished.

More than that, though, the experience has really changed the way I perceive other people as Christians. I used to discount spiritual experiences I hadn't had--it seemed too impossible and distant to imagine there was more out there. But here I was, spending a night each week with five other people with distinct prayer lives and relationships with God. In a setting that intimate, there's no way to deny there are things about faith I don't understand. At the same time, the experience has made me feel more secure about myself as a Christian. I no longer feel compelled to squeeze my faith into the mold of the contemplative life--Christianity is more diverse than that. I'm not a contemplative, so I feel much happier in my relationship with God when I'm not trying to be.

Most importantly, CLC has told me a lot about love in action. After each prayer session, every member shares his or her experiences. It's just a time of sharing--no comments or responses. I've never had to listen that way, without considering a rebuttal or advice. It sharpened my attention on what it was my group members we saying and made their experiences seem more real. It forced me to be still in a way I never had before. When we started the group, I was always anxious about how long meditations would last. I needed to know I how long I would have to keep my mind quiet. Now, I usually feel comfortable in the silence. I don't always have the concentration to pray as long as the other members of my group, but I can enjoy the stillness of patiently waiting for them, basking in God's love and our love as a group.

So, I'm very grateful for CLC. I think the experience has made me more human and more willing to accept the humanity of others. I can't think of a more valuable lesson for marriage, or for life. Thank you.