I'm engaged. Such a wild array of emotions accompanies that two-word statement: bewilderment, fear, surprise, joy, hope, sorrow, impatience, giddiness, uncertainty.
Several people have told me that I seem surprisingly sane for a soon-to-be bride. I think it's because I'm not afraid to be brutally honest about my feelings, about the hard realities of the adventure on which I'm embarking, about the fear I feel, and about the uncertainty that I'm equipped to love this man the way he should be loved.
As a teenager, I dreamed of getting married to my "built-in-best-friend." My husband would be someone who'd never leave my side. We'd make our way through life hand in hand, parting for only hours at a time. Certainly we'd never live apart. These weren't things I thought through, necessarily, just assumptions I made. Married people do life together. They depend on one another. If they're Christians, they serve God together. They're a team.
I came to the point a few years ago where I was relatively content with my single-hood. Sure, I had crushes on guys that made me want to throw my single-hood to the wind, but for the most part I enjoyed my life as a single person. I had absolute freedom over my life and my choices. My life was mine and mine alone to mess up. I moved around the country. I learned about myself, I asked the hard questions, I wrestled with God and with myself and with those around me.
And then, Justin.
With Justin came a massively unavoidable stop sign. I was suddenly stuck here in Podunk, Georgia, waiting to see what would happen. My priorities shifted slowly but irrevocably as I came to love him and want forever with him, and then the moment of truth.
Will you marry me?
Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes.
But you see, in many ways that yes was only the beginning of the yeses, of the choice that I have made every day since and will continue to make each day for the rest of my life.
You see, my love is a sailor in the Navy. My love won't always be there for me. That childhood dream of a man who would be my rock, my support, my built-in best friend? Well, there's some truth to that, but there's also a lot of not-so-true.
I've done so much processing over the last two weeks of my life. I've felt so much, traveled such long emotional distances. Grown so much, mourned so much, changed so much.
I've felt bewilderment and surprise. There's a ring on my finger. My finger. I'm engaged to be married. When did that happen? In so many ways, I still identify with single people more than I do un-single people. This change of the attitude of my heart and priorities has happened so quickly. I often feel detached from myself, as if I'm watching a stranger make this commitment to forever, as if there's no way that could be me.
And I've felt fear. Will I be able to handle it? What if it hurts too much to lose him? What will I do? Will my life just suck while he's gone? If so, will I also hurt him? I don't ever want to hurt him.
I've felt joy. I love this man. In under five months we'll be one. This is the one of whom I've dreamed, for whom I've waited, to whom I wrote those cheesy letters in high school. I didn't know someone so good could be mine. We make such a good team; I am blessed beyond words that God would see fit to place this man in my life.
I've felt hope. Maybe I can pull this deployment thing off. Maybe my twenty-five years of single-hood were good beyond just being stinking awesome (and let me tell you: no regrets - the things I got to do and the people I got to meet and the places I got to go because I wasn't tied down to a person were amazing). Maybe they taught me to be independent, a skill I'll certainly need in this new life of mine, this life where the person I depend on the most will not always be there for me. Maybe I'll learn a new level of independence and dependence on God. Maybe God will refine us through this (and I know He will, He has already refined me so much).
I've felt my share of sorrow. I've mourned dreams deferred, I've mourned Justin's departure months and months in advance. I've cried, I've been angry, I've panicked from the stress of just thinking about losing my love, even if only temporarily. Why, God? Why me, why us, why him? Why would you ever allow this to be my life? However it is that your will works, God, please be with me through this. I can't do this. I need You.
I've felt impatient. I wanna just be married NOW! I hate weddings and dresses and planning and making phone calls and dealing with all this stupid crap. Can't we just get married now, love? Must this be such an event? It's all such a waste of time and resources. And, yet again, I'm so excited for everyone to arrive, for the party that will ensue. It'll be a big party with all the most important people in my life present. Doesn't get much better than that. But why is it still so long from now? Why aren't we getting married in June or something, at least?
I've felt giddiness. I love this man, I get to marry him. Yay! Woot! *jumps and twirls and squeals in joyous abandon*
I've felt uncertainty. Why so many conflicting emotions? Shouldn't my engagement be solely joy-filled? Why this doubt? Does that mean it's all a bad plan and I should jump now?
Through it all, I've been forced to yet again closely examine my heart and our relationship. Why are we together? Why should we stay together? Why should we commit our lives to one another? What does it mean to work as a team for the rest of our lives? What does it mean to stand before God and these witnesses and pledge ourselves to the other for a lifetime?
Are we cut out for it?
Of course not. But God's with us. And that's enough for always.
140 days left.
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