counter culture shock

My family pretty much talks about everything.

It's true.

There aren't many secrets here.

A few, I am sure, but I guess I wouldn't really know cause well, they are secrets and I'll let them keep. What choice do I have in the matter, anyway?

But what I find strange is the prospect of not talking about something.

What's even stranger is not talking at all.

It's funny, I used to think it would be very romantic to marry somebody from a different country. I especially loved british accents. Drop an h and what can I say, I was a goner.

But then I fell in love with maybe the next best thing, somebody from New England, which was good enough for me.

And then I realized how much hard work it takes to maintain and grow a relationship.

Not start one, mind you; that sort of takes off on its own once you decide you like the look of his blue eyes and the sound of his voice and that he's just enough taller than you are. The fact that he wears berkenstocks can totally be dealt with later.

But maybe I am just speaking for myself.

The thing about a close relationship, one in which two people are meshing into one, is that it's not exactly natural. Not really. There's a lot of you that can loudly protest the meshing. At least it can be that way for me.

And in just one instance, when you are sitting around the dinner table with his kind family and nobody is saying a word; you are about to burst inside with all of the amounts of conversations you want to start but hey, maybe these people like to eat in silence, a concept you've cannot quite grasp--in that one instance, you suddenly find yourself in culture shock.

Even though you married an American.

Even though you both speak English.

Even though you both love the same God.

And then later, when you and his family are all eating eggs.

Eggs unlike you've ever seen before and you ask what makes them different and can hardly believe it when they nonchalantly tell you that they were just zapped in the microwave (!!!) and you want to put down the fork but you don't because this is their normal but all of the sudden you have a very strong feeling that you are not in kansas anymore.

And those are just the little things.

There are others.

Boy, are there others.

Like how to celebrate Christmas. What birthday's look like. How one of you is comfortable with silence while the other is afraid that maybe it means you aren't connecting like you should. Like there's some sort of Great Measuring Stick for Couple's Connectedness and one more minute of this silence is surely going to put us in That Bad Area.

You know, the one that belongs to the couples who go out to eat and spend their time in dreaded silence with only the welcome interruptions of the waiter spouting off the specials and the occasional scrape of fork against knife because they ran out of things to say a long time ago.

Eek.

And then today I read something in a magazine that made me think even more. It was in the letters to the editor section and was in response to an article about how churches are preaching about sex in marriage from the pulpit now.

The woman was incensed and all how dare they intrude and it's none of their business and I don't even feel comfortable talking about sex with my husband, let alone the clergy! and her tirade made me realize a few things:

• we need to talk about things. maybe even everything. maybe not all of it now, but in time. especially if we want the kind of fulfilling intimacy that a marriage promises.

and

• she probably doesn't have the best sex-life.

and finally

• I probably shouldn't be thinking of her sex life. and I definitely shouldn't be judging it. sorry, lady from the letters to the editor section.

I am glad that the church is talking about sex and marriage and relationships. I think we all should be. Not all the time or anything crazy like that. I mean we have to save time for discussing how ridiculous Michael Scott is and really, Stanley? An affair? Come on; so not a good idea.

And I am grateful for somebody who will let me talk. And will, in his time, talk to me. Here's to continuing to talk. Even through the culture shock that still appears from time to time. Even as we're not quite sure what the solution is. Or how, exactly, Christmas morning should proceed.

Or when, hypothetically speaking, one of us hides the other's berkenstocks.

Ahem.

Have any of you ever experienced any culture shock in your relationships? How have you dealt with it? I'd like to know.

I do; I will

There is a blog that I have been reading for a while now. The author is a young mom whose husband works two jobs to take care of their family. They lead a youth group at their church. Two years ago, their third son was born stillborn at nine months, which of course was devastating. Their son born after him is deaf. She is pregnant with their fifth child right now, only twelve weeks along. Her site is decorated with stills that capture the faces of her family. Happy faces, loving faces.

I tell you all of this because these are the things that have shaped this young woman's life. But through it all there has been a theme of love and trust. Of family. Of staying together. Of not giving up when despair seemed like the easiest path in which to sink.

Which is why I was shocked to read this sentence on her blog yesterday:

My husband left me.

Literally, I had a visceral reaction to it; I felt sick inside.

Some of the comments left on her blog revealed a theme of vulnerability; of wondering, If this marriage is falling apart, what makes me think mine won't?

And the truth is that our marriages are vulnerable. As is every one of the relationships in our lives. Because of the very fact that they consist wholly of us, they lay prone to our downfalls. Our selfishness. Our inability to follow through, though we've promised otherwise.

But there is some good news.

I have to believe it.

If nothing else, there is the decision that we are free to make to simply and doggedly do the right thing. With one foot in front of the other, we can walk in the general direction that we know to be good, elusive as it may feel at times.

Truly, I think that we have more autonomy than we give ourselves credit for.

My friend recently got married and instead of each of the couple answering I do to the vows, they decided to answer with I will. I like this. I like how it acknowledges our ongoing will in the matter; how it encompasses not just the moment in which the vows are first uttered, but every moment thereafter.

So there's something to us understanding that we don't just have an obligation to do the right thing, but that it is within our power to do it.

Now that's much better than being a slave, right? Better than not having a choice in the matter, either way. Our free will is a powerful tool that can cause beauty. It's up to us.

Nice.

Better than nice; it's life to us.

And then there's the matter of us not being able to find it within ourselves to do the right thing--what then?

Then you're screwed.

Kidding.

But that particular idiom has been pretty funny to me ever since a pastor that I know and love and who will remain nameless to protect his reputation hit another car, turned to me and my sister in his car, and uttered these two words:

We're screwed.

Despite ourselves, and the poor hit car in front of us, we laughed.

The, ah, pastor didn't.

But, when we feel we can't do the right thing, or are afraid we might not, well that's when we admit it. Tell someone. Tell God. Tell someone and God, though chances are the latter will be listening while you tell the former, anyway. Listening proudly cause it takes courage to admit weakness.

But you might want to still tell Him anyway.

Even though he already knows.

Because there is freedom that comes from honesty within ourselves; there is grace that comes softly to cushion our prostrate selves when we try for humility.

And then that small, familiar light starts flickering; that Better Way whispers its course and as we tentatively follow it the house of cards on which we had previously been standing gets solidified a bit more, day by day, hour by hour, as we continue to honor our promises and with each action and word and thought back up the decision we made when we said I do, when we still say I will.