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.

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.

Showers

My daily routine is so bizarre and non-standard while I'm home that I often find it difficult to make time to write. I'll do better when I get back to Oxford in two weeks. But, for now, I would be horribly remiss not to mention my two amazing showers!

The strongest impression coming away from my showers is one of overwhelming love. One of my mom's best friends, Linda Summerlin, and my aunt, Aunt Donna, put a lot of visible time and effort into throwing me absolutely beautiful showers. People came and people gave me extraordinarily generous gifts. But more than that, I had thirty people really interested and invested in my life. People who wanted to know where I'm going with my life, who cared about my dreams for marriage. The entire experience was overwhelming. Thank you to everyone who helped make my showers so lovely.

You can view pictures of my showers here, here, and here.

Taking Things for Granted

Adam: I hope being away from you this long means it will take longer before I take you for granted. I just don't want to ever be bored or annoyed with you after having to not be near you this long.me: Awwwww!

I hope I'm not boring or annoying!

Adam: you aren't!

me: Aww!

Adam: I think most couples eventually take each other for granted and then have to learn to live togetherme: That's true.

We can try.

In the midst of my frustrated staring this afternoon at the late fifteenth-century manuscript I've been working on, I paused to stretch and look around. My gaze rose to the ceiling of the seventeenth-century library, the Duke Humphries Library, in which I do much of my work. The Latin motto of the university, Dominus illuminatio mea ("the Lord is my light") stared down at me fifty times. I looked out the window in the Fellows' Garden of my thirteenth-century college, Exeter. Then it hit me. I really don't notice these gorgeous parts of my everyday life anymore. Even some of Western civilization's most beautiful and historic treasures are now part of my mundane, every day life.

Several weeks ago, Adam dropped a surprising comment out of the blue: "I hope being away from you this long means it will take longer before I take you for granted. I just don't want to ever be bored or annoyed with you after having to not be near you this long." I'm so excited about marrying Adam, it's difficult to image ever losing my delighted pleasure in his company. Still, I suppose that if experience has taught me anything, it's that I quickly get used to new experiences. I could focus on this realization as yet another reminder to love life as it is, right now--I should love Adam in the same passionate, infinitely renewable way I do now. But I don't think it's in human nature to continue perceiving blessings as novel. In one way, Adam has to be right. My love for him will continue to evolve and change. We will have to learn to live together, even when we find each other boring or annoying. Of course, learning to love as it is here and now is an important part of living a life of gratitude. As annoyed as I may someday be with Adam, I hope I never take him for granted. He is a gift from God, a blessing I never want to forget.

The photo of Exeter is obviously a cheat. I don't have a picture of the Fellows' Garden in the springtime.

Unlearned Kindergarten Lesson #1: Sharing

Living by myself as a graduate student in a foreign country, I'm not called upon to share things very often. Sure, I share my food and my time fairly generously--I suppose my relatively free-handed hospitality usually seems sufficient. But, with my sisters here, I'm reminded that I really, really don't like to share my stuff.

In all fairness, I don't have much stuff here to share. Books, which I would share if they asked. Clothes, which I would share if I had enough sets to make up more than one wardrobe for more than a few days. But my "good-natured-ness" starts to wear off when my sisters want to borrow my nail clippers or hairbrush. And I have no patience for letting anyone else loose on my computer.

It's an interesting way to discover what's really important to me. Even though I've had arguments with my sisters, friends, or even Adam before about the computer, I'm only just not figuring out why. I don't like sharing my nail clippers or hairbrush because they are such personal things. But my laptop is such an intimate thing, an object through which I express myself is so many academic and personal contexts--it really feels like a part of myself.

No wonder, with that unhealthy attitude, that I can't stand anyone else using it. No wonder I feel so vulnerable. What if they break it? What if they somehow change it, make it less useful? It's like I've opened myself up to anyone who uses my machine. For someone who bares parts of her soul to an anonymous (mostly non-existent?) on-line audience, that sentiment is truly ridiculous.

So, I guess it's time to add another goal to the "Things I Wish to Accomplish before I Marry Adam" list: learn to share. It's not going to be a very happy marriage if I don't trust Adam enough to let him use my computer.