A New Adventure

6 minute read

50 days. Holy wow.

Marriage is big. It is a very permanent decision.

It is extremely exciting and wonderful, and also daunting.

As a child (and grandchild) of divorce, marriage scares me for many reasons.

The little understanding I have about marriage can very succinctly be summed up with the sentence: marriage is hard.

That’s all I know.

And what is more scary, is that I don’t really know. You know? I can understand why marriage would be difficult. I’ve heard about how it is. I’ve seen what happens when we are not equipped to maneuver the difficulty…but I have yet to experience it firsthand.

As much as I may tell myself, ‘I know that marriage is hard’, I won’t truly understand what I’m saying until I’m there. I don’t think there’s any way to go into marriage without some naiveté. And that scares me.

And yet.

Despite having this unpleasant reality in the back of my mind for a while now, I have nevertheless longed for this vocation almost equally as long.

Martin Luther King Jr. Day 2020

Marriage and family life have been on my heart (as trite as that sounds) for many years now. The desire itself was painful in it’s unmet state and I often resented and questioned it as a result.

Waiting is hard.

I suspect many of us try to supress this longing because it hurts. Because it’s outside our control and because we lose hope, we doubt it could ever come to fruition–I certainly did.

We never understand (or at least rarely do) why things must happen in a certain time or way. Why they can’t be sooner/easier/feel better, etc.?

Part of our creatureliness is that we are not in control of everything/don’t understand everything. And that part is really freaking hard sometimes.

I was mostly impatient and whiny throughout the process, and in moments that I faced this less-than-admirable approach, I often asked: what does it mean to wait well?

I’m not sure I have a great answer, but I think ultimately embracing the burden/discomfort instead of rejecting it lightens the load more than we’d think. (Of course it’s easy for me to say that right now).

February 8th, 2020

Largely in spite of myself, here we are.

Stephen and I met in October/November time frame of last year. He started going to the same Catholic young adult group as I did a few months after his move to Charleston.

A few weeks later I accidentally sat next to him at a Requiem Mass (people never believe when I say it was an accident but whatever).

We hardly spoke on those first meetings but I was certainly intrigued.

February 23, 2020

A few weeks after that Mass, we attended another young adult group event together and this time we had some good conversations. A few days later he asked for my number. And the next time we saw each other, about a week later, he asked me out on a date.

And thus it began.

The whole thing has been such a gift. That is, ultimately, what we are to each other: pure gift.

It’s not perfect, we don’t share everything in common, we don’t see everything in the same way, not every moment has been enjoyable/easy/fun. I’ve suffered a lot of anxiety as I’ve dipped my toes into the area of life (apart from the Faith) that both enthralls and scares me the most: love and intimacy.

Even in the short time we have been together (compared to the lifetime ahead of us), there have been many moments fraught with tension, disillusionment, frustration/impatience and hurt.

May 22, 2020

I think for me, all the ‘normal’ struggles of getting to know and growing in love for someone are magnified. Every conflict feels like the end. Every difference is a threat. Every dull moment or prolonged silence is a sign that something is wrong. I find trust extremely difficult, and often feel overwhelmed by this handicap–constantly battling my doubts and suspicion. It’s exhausting.

I don’t want this to sound woe-is-me, but it is true that children from broken families tend to have a much more difficult time with this. It’s probably not the same for everyone, but generally speaking I’ve seen this over and over again. And it makes sense–if you haven’t seen what love and a healthy relationship is meant to look like, how do you learn? I’ve already written about this rather extensively so I won’t elaborate more here, but it is something that has been impressed upon me and that I have been reminded of recently: the difficulty of learning how to love and be loved–and to trust.

It’s hard for me to put into words why we really are choosing each other–the topic of discernment is a tricky one. I think for me it has to do with Stephen’s character. Apart from the other nice things (enjoying each other’s company, our mutual appreciation for water scenery, friends, family, good food and Catholicism), I think what largely convinced me was his integrity. Of course, as practicing Christian Catholics, our world/moral views are aligned which I believe to be truly essential.

I do think our differences are largely complementary–although I’m not sure we ‘complete’ each other. I think that a big part of relationships is embracing the beloved’s ‘otherness’, without imposing our desires and expectations about who we think they should be–other than holy. And yet somehow these two others become ‘one flesh,’ which is a mystery I find fascinating and very confusing. (I guess that’s the mystery part).

I really do admire and respect the heck out of Stephen. On top of having a lot of fun with him. And he loves me well, I wish everyone could have that experience–it is truly sacred.

But in the end, vocation is something one is called to (vocare: to call). And though I questioned quite a bit–the calling was made clear to us.

August 14th, 2020

I know that I have a long way to go in the great venture that is loving another person deeply and entirely. I am very blessed to have met someone who wants to go on this lifelong journey with me. Marriage and family life are a gift and a privilege. I pray I never take it for granted–even when I’m angry/hurt/afraid/frustrated beyond belief.

August 10th, 2020

We are pilgrims to the promised land, and our mutually entrusted responsibility is to ensure the other person gets there–no matter what.

Marriage is indeed a beautiful–albeit difficult–vocation. To belong to another entirely and to be loved without reservations is such a precious undertaking.

There are five million beautiful quotes to choose from about love and marriage, I’ll end with one of my favorites (though it’s hard to pick):

“Marriage is an adventure, like going to war,”
GK Chesterton

We’re getting married!!!

This article was written by Miranda Rodriguez, a contributing writer for the Restored blog. It has been reposted with permission. It originally appeared on her blog, First Class Act.