Quieter Love

You really should marry your best friend. Yes, I know the current controversy swirling around on the various forums about how you should not, nor even want to marry your best friend. They should be your partner. Someone you love. Not like your current best friend. Would you marry your best friend? Of course not! But I say, yes, you should. Why wouldn’t you? Let me explain.

Natural inner desires aside for the more physical, obvious side of marriage and its benefits, which we all know, let’s look at the long-term aspect of marriage. Everyone who enters marriage knows that they want to make it last. They intend for all good purposes that the person they are marrying will be there beside them for the rest of their life. I’m not sure many people stop and think about this very seriously when they are considering getting married. You pretty much will have to live, work, move, talk, sleep, eat, decide, plan, play, cry, laugh, breathe, struggle, toil, cook, read, sing, and more than likely argue, with this person you’re marrying for the rest... of your... life. Every single day. Life will interfere, of course, as things like the normal work day, business trips, retreats, travel, and hospital stays will separate the two of you for a while. But other than that, you can just about plan on seeing that person somewhere around you for the remainder of the time. To the newly married, this is great! But how long will the excitedness of constantly 24/7 being around that person last? Will you still be excited when your spouse is sick, throwing up every few hours, and you have to take care of them? Will you be excited, pulling laundry out of the hamper, to put in the washer, to put in the dryer, to take out and put away (weekly!)? Will you still be excited when you open your spouses car hood for the millionth time in the garage to add in the fluids they just never seem to replace? Will you be thinking loving thoughts about your spouse when they use up all the hot water, and your shower is cold? The seemingly mundane things of life will creep in eventually, as they should, and what happens if you are no longer in that sparkly eyed twitter patted state of mind? What will hold you through those seconds, hours, days, months, years? Hopefully, and here is where my point comes in, what holds you through is that you are married to your best friend. Someone you want to go through all these things with.

Not many of us can think of the best friend we have right now as a future spouse, and that is why we shy away from the idea. Usually, but not always, this is because our best friend is the same gender we are! And that’s natural and right. You should definitely NOT marry this friend. Even if we could look past that, most of us are still annoyed by some thing or another that our best friend inevitably does, and we’ll take a break from that person for a while, or even in the extreme, find another best friend. Ok: All gender aside, think with me here for a moment. Think of your best friend. Maybe it’s a sibling that you’ve always been the closest with. Or a friend you’ve known since you were children together. More than likely, in either instance, you’ve known this person for quite some time and they’re not just a fly-by-night casual acquaintance. Now think even further than that, and consider that the two of you just never married, and, being best friends, thought, ‘Hey! Since neither of us has anyone, let’s share a house. We can save on rent, utilities, furniture, kitchen stuff, and it’ll be even better because we can see each other all the time! It’ll be great. Plus, we get along really well.’ Now be honest, could you live with that person, your best friend or sibling, for a long time? I know in my case, if it were my sister, I definitely could! I get along and always have with both of my sisters-- they ARE my best friends, simply because we’ve spent the most time together and know each other very, very well. Sure, we can argue over something trivial every now and then, or tease each other, but in the end it all comes down to them being not only my sisters, but my friends, and I know we’d take care of each other. And that’s what most of it comes down to... you being comfortable with your future spouse, your best friend. You know that they know you and you know them. Picking up facial cues to each others emotions, knowing what pleases and what irks the other, wanting to be there through thick and thin with them to help each other through. The list of best friend qualities that also tie into marriage is virtually endless. Best friends know the other friend intricately, have bonded on a special level with them, and yes, in its own way, love each other.

So next time you hear someone say “I’ve married my best friend”, try not to scoff at them and think the statement is ridiculous. I believe a spouse can and should be a best friend. It may have some different meanings than what comes to mind when you think of your same gender best friend, but that partner and soulmate that is your other half that you’ll live with day in and day out-- that’s a special kind of friend and love entirely. And, I pray, one we should all be so lucky to someday find and share life with.

Reading this morning in C.S. Lewis’ book Mere Christianity, I came across a few paragraphs about marriage, which tied in perfectly with what I’d already been thinking of blogging about. The last part especially, really just struck my brain like a bolt of lightning. I’d always wondered at the phrase and meaning behind one ‘dying to yourself’, and understood the basic principles behind it, but never in this light before, and now that it’s become so unmistakably clear to me, I will never again be able to see the words and not think of the true meaning behind it. After the ecstasy and euphoric high of being newly married begins to slightly diminish (but not fully-- I hope it never will!), what we should look for is what Mr. Lewis refers to as a “quieter love”. Not wild and crazy as when you were young and everything was new, but not tame and complacent, either.

“They can have this love for each other even at those moments when they do not like each other; as you love yourself even when you do not like yourself. They can retain this love even when each would easily, if they allowed themselves, be ‘in love’ with someone else. ‘Being in love’ first moved them to promise fidelity: this quieter love enables them to keep the promise. It is on this love that the engine of marriage is run: being in love was the explosion that started it... In this department of life, as in every other, thrills come at the beginning and do not last. The sort of thrill a boy has at the first idea of flying will not go on when he has joined the R.A.F. and is really learning to fly. The thrill you feel on first seeing a delightful place dies away when you really go to live there. Does that mean it would be better not to learn to fly and not to live in the beautiful place? By no means. In both cases, if you go through with it, the dying away of the first thrill will be compensated for by a quieter and more lasting kind of interest. What is more (and I can hardly find words to tell you how important I think this), it is just the people who are ready to submit to the loss of the thrill and settle down to the sober interest, who are then most likely to meet new thrills in some quite different direction. The man who has learned to fly and become a good pilot will suddenly discover music; the man who has settled down to live in the beauty spot will discover gardening.
This is, I think, one little part of what Christ meant by saying that a thing will not really live unless it first dies. It is simply no good trying to keep any thrill: that is the very worst thing you can do. Let the thrill go-- let it die away-- go on through that period of death into the quieter interest and happiness that follow-- and you will find you are living in a world of new thrills all the time.”

I Do Not Want To Be Famous!

So many people want to be famous. An actor. An actress. A singer. A dancer. "I want to see my name in lights!" is pretty famous to hear people say, or at least hear a movie character saying. And I think these days, the desire to become someone famous has increased more and more. We're pushed into thinking that being normal, being a 'no one' is boring and unusual. Yes, movies are entertaining, but sometimes they can be too engrossing, and we come away from the TV or theater thinking 'Wow, so and so was so cute, I wish I were an actor in a movie like them. Their life must be so glamorous and expensive!'

Yes and no. Expensive? Of course. Glamorous? Not exactly as the majority of American's make it out to be. It's actually pretty depressing.

For example, why would you want to be constantly followed around, by either people trying to take pictures of your every move, or by a bodyguard you had to hire to keep all the weird people and stalkers away? Not me! Think about it: Not a trip to the grocery store, or getting in your car, or going in and out of your house, or goinganywhere would be missed by someone. Your level of anonymity would cease to exist. People constantly wanting to be your friend... only because you're famous. Wanting your autograph. Not leaving a moments peace. Wanting you to get them 'into the business' because you must obviously have some sort of connection. Who would want this, willingly?? This is not even mentioning, of course, the tabloids, the magazine rumors, the 'sources' (close "friends" of yours!) telling inside details to the reporters. Nothing is private about your world anymore.

And the magazines know it. They'll get a picture of you walking your DOG and make it into something fantastic. Walking my dog?! Oh, how thrilling and every day. Magazines, like 'People Magazine' seem to think they have some right to take pictures, post stories and news items, and surmise details about famous people because they are just positive that we, as American's, are simply dying of curiosity over every move they make. Ha! And since they (the magazine) think this, they go right ahead and push the paparazzi even more to get close, get personal, invade private space, and take whatever pictures they can.

As a result, we are getting famous people that are fed up, hassled, depressed, and more often than not, with the aid of the Hollywood mentality, turn to destructive behaviors, styles of life, addictions, and partying to escape from US! Their world suddenly becomes very, very small, as they are forced to only be around other elite people like themselves, who are headed down exactly the same destructive paths they are! Can you see where I'm going with this? It's a horrible cycle, and once you're 'famous', you can't ever go back. Unless you commit suicide. Or overdose. Or... the list goes on. They're ignoring the pain of being so alone, yet surrounded by millions of people who claim to be their adoring fans. Adoring fans are simply that because they like how the person looks physically, the 'stylish' clothes they wear, the places they hang out, and the fact that they can be seen my millions of people and live a glamorous life. Alone. The pressure to stay looking fit, looking fabulous, looking stylish, at all costs, is enormous. Heaven forbid someone sees you in a pair of sweats! There go your ratings.

So, I'm going against popular culture and declaring that I do NOT want to be famous, for this very reason: People don't like or know you for who you are. You're a lone island, surrounded by people wanting you, dressing you, fixing you into the look they think American's idolize, not the real you. Not the real you!

I don't admire famous people. I'm sad for them. It's such a horrible, horrible life WE'VE put them in. And WE will continue this madness until someone wakes up to the damage WE'RE doing to them, whether physically or subconsciously, and does something about it. Until then, I do not want to be famous, or even aspire to be. I don't know who would.

Thoughts from Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis: Time

Calvinism.
Pre-destination.
Freewill?

There are many terms and many different view points from those in the Christian life who argue their view of the pre-knowledge of God. What does He really know ahead of time? Does He guide our acts like a master puppeteer, or does He watch and wait? Is God ever surprised? Just HOW in control are we, as mere human beings, made of flesh and muscle and bone, blessed and cursed by the ever present inevitability that we, and we alone, indeed are responsible for what we say, think, act out, don't act out, and imagine? In His Word, God makes it very clear that no, we are not puppets. We are free thinkers. Free doers. Free from strings, free to harm. To hurt. To love. To laugh. To serve. Whether we choose to do any or all of these things is entirely up to us. Does God guide? Yes, I believe He does. His Word also states quite clearly and in simple layman's terms that God has a plan for our individual lives. So what about time? If God has this plan for our lives, does He know what we will do before we do it? Or does He just influence what happens in and around us? Confused yet?

While reading today in the book that is ever becoming my favorite, Mere Christianity, I read the following passage and was struck at the complexity of Mr. Lewis' thoughts. They were hard to swallow. Yet, a second look, and I knew almost instantaneously what he was talking about and his thought process. It's amazing, astounding, and refreshing:

"But God, I believe, does not live in a Time-series at all. His life is not dribbled out moment by moment like ours: with Him it is, so to speak, still 1920 and already 1960. For His life is Himself. If you picture time as a straight line along which we have to travel, then you must picture God as the whole page on which the line is drawn.... Another difficulty we get if we believe God to be in time is this. Everyone who believes in God at all believes that He knows what you and I are going to do tomorrow. But if He knows I am going to do so-and-so, how can I be free to do otherwise? Well, here once again, the difficulty comes from thinking that God is progressing along the Time-line like us: the only difference being that He can see ahead and we cannot. Well, if that were true, if God foresaw our acts, it would be very hard to understand how we could be free not to do them. But suppose God is outside and above the Time-line. In that case, what we call 'tomorrow' is visible to Him in just the same way as what we call 'today'. All the days are 'Now' for Him. He does not remember you doing things yesterday; He simply sees you doing them, because, though you have lost yesterday, He has not. He does not 'foresee' you doing things tomorrow; He simply sees you doing them: because, though tomorrow is not yet there for you, it is for Him. You never supposed that your actions at this moment were any less free because God knows what you are doing. Well, He knows your tomorrow's actions in just the same way-- because He is already in tomorrow and can simply watch you. In a sense, He does not know your action till you have done it: but then the moment at which you have done it is already 'Now' for Him."

Wow. Maybe not the clearest case I can present for saying that I believe in freewill and personal responsibility, with Christ as my Savior and Guide, but I think it will get some wheels turning, as it did mine. Think about it. For yourself.

Psalm 139: 1-4
O LORD, you have searched me
and you know me.

You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.

You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue
you know it completely, O LORD.

"You Don't Date?"

I can’t count how many times I’ve heard this exclaimed throughout my teenage and young adult years. And I suppose to most, it does seem like an odd comeback to their question of either ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ or, the very rare: ‘What are you doing Friday night...?’ I tend to get this blank and somewhat confused look like I have suddenly grown another head or just announced that I’m actually a ruling dictator in Russia. Before I dive in with my explaination, I suppose I should clarify. It’s not that I don’t date, I’m just not looking to date... in the sense of what it’s come to be known as.

Call me old fashioned. Ok, let’s just get it out of the way: “Allison, you’re old fashioned.” I don’t know if it’s the fact that I was brought up in a fairly strict homeschooled environment, or my parents influence and beliefs on the subject, but I believe that when it comes right down to it, I have chosen this way for myself- no other. When I was in my teens, our house rule was no dating. That was just a given, and I was perfectly fine with it. I saw the positives of not going from one heartbreaking relationship to another, and I was too young to get married anyway. So one would assume now that I’m ‘out of the house’ so to speak, I could ditch what my parents were requiring and just date whomever, whenever, right? Not exactly. So why not? I was free, wasn’t I, to make my own choices? 

True. But the funny thing was, when I took a second look at why I did what I did, and the reasons behind it, I found out that my parents were actually on to something. This of course I already knew, but I wanted to verify it for myself anyway. What I realized is that yes, of course I wanted to find that certain someone, my best friend and partner for life, but did I want to have to go through 2, 3, 5- or more, guys and the repeatedly broken hearts that ensued, on the way to get there to that goal? No! Absolutely and emphatically no. I know many people would argue that you don’t know and can’t grow unless you try it out first or have your heart broken a few times along the way. Yes, quite a few will argue that it actually makes it sweeter, when you finally fall in love with the right one, because you’ve been able to find out what you didn’t want and what you weren’t looking for in a spouse along the way. What they fail to mention are the casualties you’ll have left along the roadside of life, casting those aside, trampling over their feelings (and yours)-- all in the pursuit of finding someone through trial and error. The only problem, other than the hurt feelings on both sides, is that in essence you’re trying out boys. They become simply try-out relationships... and then you’ve missed the point entirely. You no longer have marriage in mind, but of having a good time, going out, being flirtatious, and then when you truly get to know the person, casting them aside at the soonest convenient opportunity.

Usually knowing all this doesn’t deter people from dating. Am I afraid to get my heart broken, you ask? No. But for right now, I’ve decided that if I can have any say in it, I want to get to know a guy as a friend first, not having the intention of starting any relationship, until we both know we are fully ready to pursue a relationship with the goal of marriage as a the end result, if that is how the Lord is directing in each of our lives. 

I look forward to that day, if that is what God wants to fulfill in my life. However, until that day, I will continue to answer the question-- because I know the answer is ultimately in my, and my future spouses, best interest.

Like a Fish out of Water: Surviving a College Biology Course

Having been homeschooled K-12, I suddenly came to a rude awakening that I was utterly unprepared to enter college: A sort of cross between what I considered ‘public’ and ‘private’ education. College always seemed to me to be a good place where I’d be able to raise my hand, skip through all the drama of the other students, and be surrounded by older adult people like myself who really wanted to learn. This is why I was utterly unprepared. The fact that I’d just earned my diploma in Dental Assisting via a correspondence course didn’t help the situation any, either. 

As almost any homeschooler can tell you, they had grown up with people who loved them and thought highly of the kind of education they received. There was much less to be said about the woman behind the admissions desk, looking at me like she’d had an awful day already, and it was barely noon. I gulped and accepted the fact that this just was not homeschooling anymore, and I’d have to get through it somehow. 

“I need what?” I asked her with a quizzical look, my stomach dropping.

“A signature on this form from a faculty member to say that you’ve taken Human Anatomy and Physiology in high school, otherwise, you can’t get into this class.” she said without any enthusiasm. Actually, she appeared to be enjoying the fact that I’d have to do something else.

“But I have taken it! Twice!” I exclaimed. Ouch. That didn’t sound as good as I had hoped. Twice to me meant I really learned it well. Twice to them probably meant I had failed it once and had to retake it. To make matters worse, my previous advisor had told me straight to my face that she was retiring and would no longer be my advisor. That was the only faculty member I knew and who knew me that could sign off on this.

“Well, my advisor retired.” I stated, hoping for lenience. 

“No she hasn’t.” the woman said.

“She told me she was going to. She told me I’d have to find someone else.”

The woman was clearly getting irked that I wasn’t accepting what she was saying. “Go up to the Science Department and have her sign this. She’s still working here.”

So, there I was, huffing and puffing up the stairs to the dreaded Science Department, for something that really, if the community college I was attending cared even at all for me, should be doing instead of me. Honestly, it felt like everyone on the staff felt as if all the students were a burden and a nuisance. Never mind the fact that we were the ones paying their salary... But, there was one bright spot: If I could get into this ‘BIO’ (In college speak, this could mean a number of things. For me, Human Anatomy & Physiology) class, I’d be well on my way to earning the last few credits towards being able to enroll in dental hygiene school at yet another community college. Through the next few compounded events, I learned I had to bring in my transcripts, set up an appointment during the day, which would have been impossible with my full-time work schedule, and just generally gravel at their feet to let me in. And, get this, after ALL that, I was in the Science Department one day, trying to get in to see my elusive advisor, when a random faculty member stepped up to the counter and the receptionist pointed out that I needed a signature. He asked why. I told him. He asked if I’d ever done dissecting. I listed off all the animals and organs I’d dissected, and without so much as a blink of the eye, he took up a pen on the counter, scribbled his name, and was out the door.  You could have blown me over with a feather. I barely had time to shout my thanks after him out into the hallway. After all that! What a pain! And here it was, so simple. Talk to a human being, have them sign something, and I was in. I was in! 

Oh dear, I was in. Here I was, sitting in a large amphitheater-like classroom, surrounded by students of all ages, and the professor standing in the front of the class was dressed in a t-shirt, shorts, and sneakers (my mother always wore a jumper). He was lecturing us all on how hard the class was going to be, and that we probably wouldn’t make it. It was truly inspiring. He even brought up a few of last year’s students to terrorize us a bit with their 500-page bound notebook pages, filled with lecture notes, and tabbed for reference. I sank a little lower in my chair, not so giddy anymore about my suddenly seemingly insignificant amount of knowledge regarding what digit the thumb was, or how the blood was pumped through the aorta. Never mind my new and exciting folders, highlighter, or colored pencils, bought especially for this occasion. I was in for one major awakening. 

And really, public college is truly that: An awakening. Coming from a homeschooled background, I couldn’t ask the professor to slow down if I hadn’t caught something. You couldn’t get something from the kitchen for practical imagery or experimentation. And you certainly couldn’t shush the annoying students, because none of them were your siblings. The sad fact was, practically half of my fellow students didn’t know how to spell correctly. They partied the night before class, waving away the thought of homework with a shrug. Parties were obviously so much more important when you were 18, 21, or even 40. There was cheating, whispering, swearing, crude remarks, and a guy who wore a kilt the majority of the time. I still never found out the reason, as he’d sometimes show up in jeans, too. 

Thankfully, despite his extremely relaxed appearance and addiction to mountaineering, my professor knew more about human anatomy and physiology than most doctors are supposed to know, or probably do. To my dismay, everyone in the class but me called him Larry. He was a fascinating teacher, and even though he had his days (or sometimes, entire weeks), I marveled at his extensive knowledge and willingness to explain even the minute details of how a vein or your inner ear worked, simply because you had asked. I’ve never learned so much on one subject in all my life, and certainly came away with a renewed appreciation for how the human body works and how everything is dependent on something else working correctly.

Unfortunately, in college, you cannot pass just by simply loving the material and finding it interesting. This, too, is something I found differed from homeschooling. My mother never really gave me and my sisters any grades. We simply got it right, or had to do it again. You can imagine my surprise when I got to college. You cannot hand in your test, get a bad grade, and then sit right back down and go over it again after reading through the material again. They don’t do that. It’s a one shot chance. You either make it, or you don’t. This was a little unnerving, as I was required to get a certain grade in order to be able to apply to the program I wanted to get into. I suddenly found out why more college students these days have high blood pressure, stress related illness, and even depression. There were many days where I wondered why I was even in the class, and my blood pressure shot through the roof for a few months. After one particularly stressful exam, I remember joking with my fellow lab partners that I wouldn’t be surprised if a few of the past students hadn’t tried committing suicide. They laughed. I was semi-serious. 

Suffice it to say, I obviously survived Human Anatomy & Physiology, and this is without even mentioning the cadaver, the smell of formaldehyde, and my poor parents who had to listen to me several times a week on the phone, crying. Overall, of course, as I look back, I view it as a much easier class than I remember. I made some great friends, learned a tremendous amount of information in a short amount of time, and took away life lessons that I’ll never forget. But best of all: I passed. Not with flying colors, not with all A’s, but I came away feeling accomplished and thankful that I’d stuck with it. Yes, I felt out of place, being only the second previously homeschooled student in the entire class. Yes, it was a rude awakening to public school admission counselors and their seemingly disinterest in my education. And sure, I learned a few things I wish I could forget, from my lovely carousing fellow students, but as I handed in that last exam sheet and walked out into the parking lot, feeling free, I also felt content and satisfied. I had conquered a system that ran on a completely different level than what I’d known existed and had even feared just a little, but very much enjoyed the trip down the highway of college education along the way and I look forward to continuing down that road.