On Openness and Seeing Jesus

There was once a little chestnut pony named Openness and a tall, dark horse they called horseSeeing Jesus. One hot day, while roosters crowed across the way and a black and white cat chased a dragonfly, a woman led the horse and the pony around sections of the dusty arena. Each section was marked by a scattered pile of colorful fabric scraps and symbolized something important: one for strengths, another for weaknesses and one for opportunities.

As the little pony and the tall horse walked, their behavior seemed to change from one place to another. “Ta-da,” she said, arms stretched out, as they looked on at all that lay there, her mound of strengths: compassion, warmth, ability to listen among others, and it seemed the pony and the horse were in agreement.

But as she led them to the heap of weaknesses, she noticed Seeing Jesus took a longer path, turning in a circle before making his way there. Openness stood still, breathing it all in: lack of time, insecurity and loneliness, to name a few, but Seeing Jesus only gazed past the pile and patiently waited to move onto the next. Rather than focusing on the shortcomings of the one who led her, the tall, dark horse stood, a strong presence.

The woman moved on to the scattered pile of opportunities (she usually called them problems) and again was slowed down as Seeing Jesus took a longer, winding path. Why is she doing this again? she mused, a little annoyed to tell the truth. And it was there, Openness, the little chestnut pony, shifted from patient to uncomfortable, hooves pawing the earth and head bobbing up and down. As Seeing Jesus stood by, Openness opened his mouth and bit the horse, agitated and ready to move. Still, the tall, dark horse was steady, waiting.

After a while, she led the little chestnut pony and the tall, dark horse to the center of the dusty arena in the midst of the colorful fabric piles. There, Openness nudged up against Seeing Jesus. Where there was agitation minutes before, the little pony and the tall dark horse stood side by side.

While the black and white cat lazily rolled in the dirt, and the roosters squawked past the old oak tree, she thought.

Oftentimes, when she felt out of her comfortable place and irritable, she was more than ready to move to the next thing. Staying with it was hard, she felt afraid, and she couldn’t see anything else, but all the while Jesus was right there, steady and waiting.

Where she spent much of her time mulling over her weaknesses, it would do her good to somehow acknowledge them, keep looking forward and maybe even consider them opportunities. It was just fine if she took the longer route, her own path, and reflected along the way. And with that pile of opportunities: the one who yelled at her in line yesterday, the bills, work, misunderstandings and unrealistic expectations of herself (it was a quite a heap), well, she smiled and thought,

Sometimes it seems impossible, but it takes time and openness to see Jesus.

On Marriage: I Wish I Had Known

Years ago, someone called marriage a blessed challenge,* and I’ve always liked that. It reminded me it’s necessary for things to be hard at times, but it’s amazing, too, especially after making it through all that tough stuff. Since I am not a relationship expert but quite the expert on my own marriage, the following is some of what I’ve learned over the past 11 years. I wish I had known all of this… well, 11 years ago.
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  1. Alone time is good for together time. During married years #1 – 3, we thought we would hurt one another’s feelings to get the heck away from one another, but now we have learned to say we need it when we need it. And then when we return after a couple hours (or days), we enjoy one another again even more. On the other hand, if we feel distant, we call it a no TV night and focus on quality time.
  2. Laugh everyday. It used to drive me crazy that Brian could make a joke out of anything. “Can’t you be serious?” I would say with a roll of the eyes. Now, I appreciate it more than ever because sometimes life gets way too complicated. I am thankful this man makes me laugh every single day, and he doesn’t even try.
  3. Making plans is a good thing, but flexibility and openness is better (which I re-learn everyday). We didn’t want children. Then, we decided we did and expected at least one by now. And now we are trying to sell our house because we haven’t grown into it…unless getting a second dog counts.
  4. The person you married will be different in the future (and so will you).  It stung to hear, “You aren’t the same person I married,” but he’s right. I’m less controlling, more authentic, stronger in the ways that count, and well, I eat differently. Years ago, the employees at the local pizza place knew our names AND our order! Now I juice and eat things like kale and beets, and he’ll actually drink a shot of green juice, too. I’m sure that’s what he meant.
  5. How you deal together during tough times makes all the difference. I hoped things would never be as hard as they were when we first married, that we would be immune like having chicken pox, and never face that craziness again. But tough times come and go and then come again. When words like hypogammaglobulinanemia and autoimmune became part of our vocabulary, Brian took my hand in his and said what was playing as he cleaned the garage. Hold on to me as we go/ as we roll down this unfamiliar road…(great song, Phillip Phillips).snowprints
  6. Listen. Trust. Speak what you love and value in the other person. I used to compete for final decision-making rights on practically everything. Several years ago, I realized my skepticism (words, yes, but even body language) tore Brian down little by little and took time to rebuild. But he is more than capable, and sometimes it’s less work to sit back, trust him and see what happens. Other times, we make decisions together. And when I see something amazing in him that he may not yet see and then speak it aloud, it is powerful and affirming.
  7. Appreciate the thought even if you don’t love the gift. I failed when Brian bought an old two seater bicycle after hearing me talk about the tandem bike I rode with my brother years ago (I didn’t exactly want one). But Brian listened to my stories, put time and money into the bike…and we actually figured out how to ride that heavy thing without falling OR yelling. And that is a marriage accomplishment.
  8. Having fun together is important, but so is doing what YOU love. Brian went skydiving and took two stand-up comedy courses. Both of these sound as appealing to me as having my toenails plucked off one by one. I watched him skydive, started a book club and meet with a writing group. We give one another space to grow by having an I-believe-in-you-even-if-it’s-not-for-me attitude.
  9. Schedule sex. Our society laughs about married couples losing the excitement of sex, but little is said about a solution that actually involves staying together. We tried spontaneity, but our schedules usually took over. So now, together, we put it on the schedule to be intentional, and everything else is bonus.
  10. Reach out to one another. There is something about sharing our fears when life requires moving into unknown territory and figuring out the next step. Brian going skydiving, fertility issues, getting and waiting for more diagnoses, surgery, waiting for our house to sell and knowing we’ll eventually move have all been big things. I can’t imagine wading through all of this by ourselves, so we connect with friends and talk to God about it, too. It’s hard to wait, but it’s brave to trust and see what happens. And you know, I didn’t always see it this way, but I am amazingly overwhelmed by our blessed challenge.*
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    We’ve come a long way…baby. 🙂

    *author unknown