I ran over the hockey net. It lay fragmented on the cement as I left to pick up the babysitter. Lifeless. Nothing would be able to piece it back together. The day before I had run over the neighbor’s underground electrical fence with the lawn mower. Shouldn’t the thing be unseen to the visible eye if it bears the name underground? How hypocritical. He went and talked to the neighbor for me. I brewed over with annoyance and self-hate. How could I be so stupid? All I do is break things. Everything I touch seems to take on some of my brokenness. Not even 24 hours later the feelings resurfaced. If the kids would just pick up their toys…our garage is an unending hoard of children’s treasures. I have to trip over all the paraphernalia just to make my way to the vehicle. Crushing this net is not my fault. I don’t have time for this. I can tell my soul friend is a little annoyed too. I feel like the hockey net. Like the electrical wire. Snapped. Does he think I intentionally live broken? I self-criticize, blame-shift, huddle pride close to my side, assume my husband’s thoughts towards me, and bitterness runs deep within. How does that happen so quickly? Without much thought it festers and bleeds. We are preparing for a wedding. The bride will wear white. My heart feels a little bit of black.
We walk over to the steepled house. Side by side, but I feel miles apart. I don’t reach for his hand or give him the opportunity to feel for mine. I don’t want to give it up. I’m mad at the broken toy. I’m angry these kinds of things seem to happen to me on a daily basis, but they never seem to happen to him. I’m upset I blew up. I’m bothered he doesn’t grasp why I feel he’s disappointed in me. Really, I’m just mad at myself. But I feed myself the lie that the source of it all is the lack of love the children have in not cleaning up, and the lack of care he showed me when I crushed the net. I tell myself I’m justified in my anger. It has to be righteous. How easily the snake hisses its poison. How gullible I am.
His eyes are on her-his bride. The tears start to pool as he takes in all of her coming towards him. I look past the groom at mine. He’s peering into the window of my soul. He twinkles the I love you from where he stands ready to officiate. A bit of me softens. Why don’t I feel ready to soften? He delivers the message and all the hard exterior I’m holding on so tightly to begins to give way. My walls are being broken down with the Word. Isn’t that what always happens? It points out my pride, my sin, my failings. It penetrates deep within, uprooting all that deep rooted bitterness. The infallibility is binding up the broken. I sit alone, feeling a bit exposed, holding one hand over my middle in comforting embrace, the other fiddling my purse, wishing I had let him fit his fingers through mine as we came to God’s house. I’m a sinner married to a sinner. Shocker…a minister and his wife have this common theme weaving throughout their lives too. But this preacher reads, “Salvation is of the Lord.” I am redeemed.
I see him there, my beloved, and I want to stop the message. Pull him aside. Throw my hands around his neck and shower him my sorries. But I can’t. I wait. The vows of these newly-weds ring in my ear, and it’s like a renewing of my own. “Whereas married persons are generally, by reason of sin, subject to many troubles and afflictions…who desire to have your marriage bond publicly confirmed here in the name of God before this church, may also be assured in your hearts of the certain assistance of God in your afflictions, hear therefore from the Word of God how honorable the marriage state is, and that it is an institution of God which is pleasing to Him.” Yes, we sinners experience much trouble and affliction. We eat of sin daily thinking it will nourish our hungry souls, but it inevitably leaves a painful gnaw. God hears the repentance of my soul. He is here to assist me. He is always guiding, guarding, and growing our marriage. My heart softens some more. My Shepherd is helping break up my fallow ground. I lift up a silent prayer… “Help me be faithful…to be obedient, serving, assisting, never forsaking, keeping faith and truth in all things…help me to be more like Thee…”
I stand and he meets me in the isle. My arm swings through his. The words on our bedroom wall flash through my mind, capturing my attention like a snapshot caught on film. The verse he had put on glass for me, so we could take them with us wherever we go. He knew they were important to me, that I wanted them remembered as we grew old together. “My Beloved is Mine and I am His.” The “H” is flawed. He was bummed the vinyl didn’t slide off the paper perfectly when he was putting it on the mirror. I suddenly realize how beautiful it is with all its flaws. Just like us. He leads me out of the sanctuary. I question if he smiled at me before the ceremony began. He smiles an “of course.” Like I am deserving of his love. Like he wouldn’t think to do anything else. Us sinners saved by grace, we breathe our faults to each other. I keep my arm linked through his.
We stroll over to the reception. We share in the meal. The marriage feast is on my mind. I wonder what it will be like-how full we will all be of blessing. We laugh and make merry. We rejoice for the bringing together of a godly couple. I remember and give thanks for God’s bringing me to mine.
A chill passes through where we sit. The sweater I wear can’t keep off the cold I feel. He sees the shivers spread over my imperfect arms, and without pause he sheds off his jacket and wraps it around me. As it droops heavily over my shoulders, I think, “Even here, in this small thing, he is maintaining me here too.”
Without hesitation our fingers weave together, tightly knitting our souls. His black coat covers my frame…this black fabric covering my ashes. His black over top of mine. Our ashes covered with beauty. We two sinners, we walk the short pilgrimage to our temporary home and I think-this is what marriage is all about. Forgiveness and grace. It’s all for and about God. I have seen the picture of Christ and His bride in more ways than one today. Why can’t all of us do this better? Give up our rights and bestow forgiveness and grace. I make a note as the birds sing theirs…I need to do this more. God help me do this more.
The sun breaks through the clouds and I feel God’s grace resting upon my shoulders breaking up my pride, bringing us soul friends closer to Him. We share. And it is all a wonderous kind of beautiful knowing we didn’t know the trials and sin we would encounter when we said, “I do,” but we have the confidence that we have a God who is faithful to grow and lead us to and for Him in it all. Together we stroll hand in hand, secure in the knowledge that we are an original “One” by God. Let the unseen come. He holds us firm.
John 15:9, “As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you: continue ye in my love.”
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