Photo: Britannia Willes-Smythe

A year.

It’s a long time. It’s a short time. Some things in this life seem to make time irrelevant. I feel almost as if I’ve experienced more in the last year of my life than I did in the 35 leading up to it. I know that’s not true. But I have grown and changed so much in the last year that I almost don’t recognize myself. And if I’m being honest, I like who I have become far more than the girl I was this time last year.

It’s been almost a year since Dave died.

It will be a year one week from tomorrow but I wanted to post this now… I’m not sure why. It’s not that I don’t want to acknowledge the actual anniversary of his death, it’s just that I think I want that day to just exist inside my head. I don’t want to share it with people. I don’t want to immortalize any date on the calendar for sorrow. It’s not the date of his death that should be remembered… it was the years he lived on this earth that made all the difference to those who knew him and to those he left behind.

I’m not sure I can make any sense of what it is I’m trying to say. The corners of my mind are filled with a million thoughts constantly. I’m sitting here watching the snow fall outside my window… it’s glimmering in the light of the street lamp. It’s beautiful. This time last year was very different. The days were warm and sunny. The day he died was beautiful, yet so different from today. I’m reliving the experiences of last year in my mind as I get ready to celebrate Mini-Man’s birthday once again. So many days come to mind: the day he died – I can still see and hear his friend clearly as he delivered the news through his own sobs… and telling his mom – I’m not sure I’ll ever speak words again that will impact someone so much; going to church the next morning – there’s no where else I wanted to be; meeting with the police at the accident site – fixating on the details and going over and over them in my head for weeks to follow; the memorial service – I still think Dave would have loved it; celebrating Mini-Man’s 4th birthday just 10 days after his dad died. I barely even remember it… I’m grateful to those who braved seeing me in order to help my son feel normal on his special day.

If you had asked me on this day last year where I thought I’d be a year from then, my answer would have been so vastly different from where I find myself now. I can say now, with all honesty, I’m amazed and excited and hopeful about where God is taking me.

March 6th is the anniversary of Dave’s death. April 2nd I’m getting married to Big Mack. I hate that Dave died. I love being with someone I have so much in common with. I hate that my boys have to know what it’s like to grow up without their dad. I love that I can see the life I was destined for laid out before me. I hate that the perfect nuclear family we both wanted to give our kids was not meant to be. I love the hope that I feel about my new family and our ability to live out God’s perfect redemption story. It’s hard to think all these thoughts at the same time. I’m grateful for heavenly peace. I’m grateful for God’s grace in my heart that has given me the ability to simply think these thoughts and not judge myself for them.

I have never felt love the way I feel it right now.

I used to think I settled when I married Dave. I was so wrong. He was the one who settled. I know that now. He deserved more than I gave him. He deserved to be loved the way he loved me. He loved me with an overflowing heart. I wish I’d loved him more. I wish I’d made him happy. I wish I had been able to relate to him better. I wish I’d been a better wife to him. He was good to me. We were excited about our future together.

I’m glad I see with my new eyes. I’m glad Big Mack is understanding. I’m glad I know what it feels like to love with every corner of my heart. I’m glad my boys will have an amazing dad to look up to. I’m grateful for my beautiful boys. I thank God for them. I thank Dave for them. I’m glad Big Mack is a conversationalist. I’m glad we share so many opinions from doctrine to food choices to humour to parenting style. I was committed to making my marriage with Dave good. I think marriage with Big Mack is going to be easier.

It’s bittersweet watching Mini-Man grow to love Big Mack. It’s beautiful watching Mini-Boy play with Big Mack’s nose and seeing them laugh together. It amazes me how much my heart has grown to make space for the 3 Mack kids. I pray every day that I’ll become a better mom. I pray that I will become more fruitful… patient, kind, gentle, self-controlled… I pray I will be a good step-mom too. I pray I’ll be a better cook.

I believe God has good plans for me. I’ve never stopped believing that. I believe what I say I believe. I believe it with my whole heart. I believe Jesus is the redeemer. I believe Dave is being rewarded in heaven and I believe God still has things for me to do in this life. I believe I’ve experienced everything I have for a purpose. I believe I’m becoming who I am intended to be.

The way I can honour Dave’s life is to love as he did.

With an overflowing heart.

If you’re new to my blog or have just stumbled upon it through a search engine, you can read all the entries about the death of my husband here.

Photo: ted.sali on Flickr

This post comes out of many conversations I’ve had lately with a number of different people who either are, have been, or will soon be married as well as many new moms trying to learn the ropes of parenting while maintaining some sort of harmony at home.

I also think a little on this topic anytime I notice the judgemental eyes that now land on my newly-naked ring finger as I travel to and fro with my two children in tow. I sometimes feel like wearing a t-shirt that says, “It’s not what you think.” But anyway, I digress as always.

I realized recently that I had no idea just how much my husband was a part of me; I never really realized how lost I’d be without him. Sure, I can manage… and I do. But the sense of unconditional love and security that he brought to my life and our home is now gone… and I never even really knew how strong that was until it was missing.

Marriage is all or nothing.

Blending two lives together is tough. I know it was a painful reality for me when I realized I had to let someone else’s life, goals, wishes, wants, dreams and plans factor into my decision-making. It took me a long time to get there… in fact, I can say in no uncertain terms that it was only after we were actually married that I fell in love with him with the married kind of love.

The first time the reality of marriage hit me was when Dave severely injured himself from a fall off our 2nd floor balcony when I was pregnant the first time. He had taken off the railing and was cutting some lumber when he slipped and lost his balance, falling to the concrete below, but not before hitting the scaffolding on the way down. He broke a couple of ribs, collapsed a lung and bruised his liver and was virtually incapacitated for weeks. After just 12 hours or so in the ER they said, “You have a wife; you can go home and she can take care of you.” It was then that I realized physically caring for another individual is actually in the cards when you say, “I do.” Whether that means helping them with bathing, using the bathroom, getting dressed or cutting up their food and feeding it to them. I thank God he didn’t sustain a spinal cord injury that day and I can only imagine the selflessness required to care for a permanently disabled spouse. But guess what? As his wife, that was my responsibility, even though I was pregnant and working full time. And if his injuries had been worse, my job would have been bigger. I’m not convinced many marriages start out with the kind of commitment it would take to get through something like that. I think that kind of commitment is something you grow into together.

The birth of our first son put a huge strain on our already imperfect relationship. Those first couple of years were excruciating. I hated being so dependent on someone else and I fought it with all my strength. I was so lost in this new world of motherhood coupled with an awful bout of postpartum depression I barely knew which way was up, couldn’t get enough sleep and went about my life oblivious to everyone and everything other than me and my son. My husband was left to feel lonely, confused and inadequate when he couldn’t solve my problem, but he loved us both so much he would have done anything to make it better. So he waited and worked hard to provide for us while taking on all the cooking and cleaning in our home so I was free to just be a mom. We barely spoke to each other for ages.

And then one day the fog started to lift.

Our life together started to take shape. Our son was older and more interactive; he and his dad became inseparable. I began to enjoy life again; most of all I delighted in watching my husband and my son together… our family. My family.

The point of this, at least where babies and parenthood is concerned, is that it is only a season in your life. It does pass. Kids get older and more self-sufficient; you eventually get more sleep and see the world more clearly; and as you learn to parent together you might actually find a deeper level of connectedness than you ever had before kids. I have said this in person to some new moms and I’ll say it again here:

Do not make any permanent decisions about your relationship until your child is at least two years old. Please. It will get better.

I actually think there is something to be respected about the old-fashioned way of doing things… staying together for the kids. People don’t do that anymore; some don’t even try. We’re all wrapped up in our own self-absorbed worlds and we want what we want without being able to see clearly beyond the here and now. We all want a partner who will place our needs above their own and many times moms have a tendency to put their children before their husbands (I can say this because I’m guilty of it myself). We play the “my life sucks worse than your life” game and bicker over who worked longer hours, who has it rougher, who has more household chores, who spent more money, who gets more “me time”. Then we find we’re meaner, ruder, snarkier to each other than we would be to a complete and total stranger.

If you have children, I think you owe it to your children to do anything and everything to not only make your marriage tolerable but enjoyable! If two adults without children find they both don’t want to live together anymore, fine. Part company. But your kids never asked to be dragged in to your mess and they never asked to live in a world where they’re expected to grow up and know how to have great relationships (or a relationship at all) without ever having witnessed one in their own home.

I received a great message from a marriage conference Dave and I attended once that really struck me: People always think the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, but the truth is the grass is greenest when it is cared for, nurtured, seeded, watered, cared for, aerated, mowed, fertilized, cared for… it’s a LOT of WORK to have a green grass. If you don’t take care of it it will fade and die.

The same is true of a marriage.

We spend hours upon hours at our jobs, our hobbies, our athletic pursuits, our education, our passions… how much time and energy do we spend on nurturing our marriage relationships? I know I didn’t spend enough, that’s for sure.

I feel really blessed that in the last year before Dave died, our relationship had again moved to yet another deeper level of commitment. It started when we found out we were expecting another baby. It was like something clicked between us and we realized we had absolutely no choice anymore but to work together if we were going to not only avoid the hell we went through the first time but move ahead with peace and joy in our home. We were so excited about it; we began to deliberately focus on enjoying our time together. When Mini-Boy was born our family felt totally complete and we were embarking on a brand new adventure of a lifetime.

It took 10 years before we got to feel that total oneness marriage is supposed to be about. And I count myself blessed to have known that kind of love.

Don’t give up.

When you know, you know.

This was one of the most unique weddings I’ve ever seen. I suppose it wasn’t unique to your average Orthodox Jew, but as a common gentile, I sure had never seen a wedding like it before.

Last night was a planned girls’ night before the wedding, but certain formalities were to be included. Both the bride and groom had to participate in ritual baths and fasting from sundown the night before, so we shoveled in some dinner together before the sun dipped below the horizon and proceeded to spend the rest of the evening engaged in some serious girl talk.

We finally called it a night around midnight because the wedding was scheduled for roughly 8am the next morning. We got up about 5am and proceeded to primp and prep and get ourselves dressed in our modest but stylish ensembles. All of us gals are married, so we had some fun deciding what hats to wear – married women are to cover their hair. And while I did have a really good time trying on every hat for sale on the North Shore, my favourite preparation was squeezing myself into panty hose for the first time in a zillion years… ack, those are awful.

An army of young men arrived with two Rabbis about 7:15am to pray over the wedding for about half an hour or more. There was something touching about that. I know it’s ritual, but there’s something special about knowing the people around you and your community are coming together in prayer to bless their marriage. Marriages should be honoured so much more than they are in our society.

The wedding was really quiet – but I think I did a really good job of standing still and saying nothing. That doesn’t really come naturally to me, so I did feel a hint of pride at my own accomplishment. The prayer warriors held up the chuppah – the marriage canopy – under which the groom gave the bride a ring and her silence indicated no objections. There was a signing of the marriage contract, some more blessings, some ceremonial hand washing, breaking of bread and again more prayers.

In the end someone who means a great deal to me is moving on to share her life with a wonderful man who makes her happy, loves her as she deserves and makes a great dad to her adopted two year old son. I couldn’t be more happy for her… or for him.

Today is the first day of the rest of their life together, and I wish them the very best this life has to offer – love, laughter, peace and joy and many many years of blessings to come.

Mazel Tov!

Okay, the truth is this is not really a book review per se, but definitely a concept to ponder from the book I’m currently reading. I know, I know I said I have the attention span of a flea… truth is it is VERY rare for me to read entire books. I’m more of a blog, newspaper, magazine-if-I’m-bored, rss feed kind of reader. But every so often it’s nice to curl up in bed and read something of the printed and bound variety.

I’m currently reading Love and Respect: The Love She Most Desires; The Respect He Desperately Needs, by Dr. Emerson Eggerichs. It’s based on the theory that what men and women actually need out of a marriage differs. Now, you might think, “Well, duh!” But the truth is, as humans, we generally try and offer people what it is we want from them, rather than offering them what they need. The result is that each can be left without the fulfillment they’re seeking and, thus, the painfully high divorce rate.

The foundation of Dr. Eggerichs’ theory comes from scripture:

Ephesians 5:33 states: “Nevertheless, each individual among you also is to love his own wife even as himself, and the wife must see to it that she respects her husband.”

When I got married, I thought what we were doing was committing to living together because we loved each other. What I didn’t realise at the time, is that God’s plan for marriage involves more than that. Firstly, the commitment is not to exist in the same space with one another, but to act. The commitment is to act with love towards one another, whatever form that really needs to take and so I’ve recently decided to dive in to figuring out exactly what that means.

The Ephesians passage above is interesting. Notice it doesn’t say the wife is to love her husband. Huh. Men are commanded to love their wives as he loves himself! Wow. That’s quite a tall order. But women are commanded to respect their husbands.

The truth is, we women and society as a whole, really expect unconditional love from our husbands. We believe its our right… whether we get ugly or fat or don’t keep the house well enough, don’t earn enough money, don’t dress nicely or use enough wrinkle cream… we expect our husbands will love us no matter what. Unconditional, right?

Well what about the concept of unconditional respect?

Often we consider respect to be something a person earns by making right decisions, doing the right things, saying the right things. That’s how a person earns respect, right? It can’t just be given no matter what, right? Well, it would seem that’s exactly what this scripture is saying. In the same way that women are still worthy of love from their husbands no matter what they do or how they behave, our husbands are worthy of our respect for who they are as individuals whether we agree with all their decisions, actions or convictions or not.

It’s a great book and I would highly recommend it to anyone trying to figure out why their marriage isn’t exactly what they signed up for. It’s funny how more and more I find the words written in the bible just make sense when put into practice. Ironic?

Just a thought to ponder…