Moving On

An Open Letter to Anyone Whose RSS Feed to ...and Enide is Still Up and Running:

...and Enide was an important part of my life. It brought me so much joy to be able to share the excitement of my engagement with a surprisingly large community of friends and family. But when Adam and I finally tied the knot, it was time to move from the doe-eyed idealism of life as a fiance into the joyful reality of my life as a wife.

So I stopped blogging.

Two years later, I'm a happy wife and mother. Times and tone have changed, but I still want to share my insights and experiences. Enter Experimental Wifery. Experimental Wifery is a non-narrative project about the things I'm always learning about being a wife and woman.

If you're still out there, I would love your support and feedback.

Alison

We're Back

...and Enide started out as a chronicle of my engagement and marriage to the man I love more than anything in the world. I gratefully shared my triumphs and challenges with the people who mean the most to me until our August 15 wedding date.

After fifteen months of marriage, I can attest that the romance of Erec and Enide is indeed a spectacular analogy for the effort and joy of being married. There is no space for complacency or ingratitude in marriage. Marriage really is a quest, a constant journey two people undertake to find their vocation and happiness together.

But now, our journey begins to take a turn. Just a few weeks ago, Adam and I found out that we are expecting our first little boy or girl.

We would like to share this exciting new road, full of excitement and anxiety, with those who have already come so far with us as a community. Look for posts leading up to our early July due date.

Welcome back. And thank you for joining us on our journey.

...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.