5 Minute Friday: Tree

Linking up with Lisa-Jo Baker today for her 5-minute writing exercise (focused writing on one word for 5 minutes, no edits or concern for proper punctuation necessary, just honest raw, writing).  The theme this week is tree:

When we were dating we often found ourselves ending our time together at a local lake.  We'd finish up doing the fun things or the errands or being silly or having great conversations and then we'd stroll about the lake until we stopped strolling and parked ourselves under our tree.

It was under that tree we had our first snuggle.  I sat leaned into him and we shared our hopes and dreams.  We talked about family and life goals and what we wanted to feel about how we'd lived life when we were 80.

And then, after 9 months of dating and talking and sharing and living and being so swept up in the so-in-love-you-can-barely-breathe magic, he took me back to our tree and got down on one knee and asked me to live out our dreams with him forever.

Of course I said yes.  And I kissed him there under our tree.

We came back every now and then when we'd walk the lake early in our marriage, but then we moved to a new city.  We hardly go back now.  It's been years since we've seen that tree.

Although that is somewhat sad in certain ways… the not seeing something that was once so important… we now have more.  We have a living tree.  It's routed in us and in this marriage.  The roots twist and link and grow from our lives spent together these last 6 years.  From the fights and the stand offs and hurt feelings and the pain of loss or hurt and the best moments and the worst moments and the beauty in creating new life together and the compromise and the falling deeper in to love because you are unfolding the depths of the others soul and having a lot of fun in the through thick and through thin…

And the new tree has spouted and branches they are forming.  This son.  That son.  Our home.  Our life.  Our pain.  Our joy.  Our failures.  Our success.  Our family.  We are one at the roots of that tree (we are the seed) and coming from us isn't something so stoic and tangible like the tree by the lake we sat under that first time, but it is real and has soul and life and it is ours.

5 years!

When we met I was 18 and you were 26.  We became great friends and I could talk to you about anything.  I thought you were just the kind of guy I wanted to marry, but we each assumed the other would never been interested because I was younger and you were older.  But then we realized age didn't really matter so much and it wasn't that you were LIKE the guy I wanted to marry; you were the guy I wanted to marry.

So we dated for 8 months and called every night an "adventure night."  And we did it all.  We went to concerts and walked at the parks and there was the night we drove around almost the whole night just talking and laughing and eating donuts because when you're young and in love, those are the kinds of things you do.  And you told me you loved me right after you kissed me for the first time and we both knew that meant forever.

You asked me to marry you at our spot at the park on a perfect night in April.  And then right after celebrating with tears and kisses you took me to Barnes and Noble to buy a wedding planner because you knew just who you were marrying.  You knew me through and through but hardly at all compared to how you know me know.

And we flew to California with your family to meet your Grandparents and have a little ceremony on the beach where we would talk about how much we loved each other.  And seeing that ocean for the first time with you on my arm was romance and bliss.  And we talked about how one day we'd live near an ocean and how we'd be warm all year 'round.

And then you married me.  Me and my crazy.  Me and my problems.  We were two imperfect people coming together to be one and create a life and a family and to be supported through it all.  Marrying you was committing to being your best friend forever and being the person who'd carry you through your storms just like you'd carry me through mine.  We agreed I am yours, you are mine, and now we each have a person for the through thick and thin who we love.

And you have always felt like home.

You took me to Disney World for our honeymoon.  You loved it but I wasn't so sure going in.  But I became a believer.  We cultivated dreams there for our family and bringing little people there year after year.  It was a dream then and reality now.  Sometimes I still pinch myself because none of this seems real...

And that first year of marriage was so good like the first year is supposed to be.  I had some bad hair styles and gained too much weight, but you still loved me.  I went through three jobs, we bought a house, and we had fun.  There were stressful times, but it was good times.

And we got our friends together and we started a house Church when we couldn't find a Church that fit us and when we felt so frustrated by the whole thing.  And that was so fun.  Even the cleaning before and after.  And we had an Oscar party and you dressed like Steve Carrel's character in Anchorman and I tried to dress like Juno, but that didn't work out so well.  And we had fun.

And then we past our first year marker and after lots of talking and praying we decided, "BABIES!" and it happened so quickly.  We were blessed.  And terrified.  And excited!

We saw James Taylor and Carole King which was basically the best thing ever.

You pushed me around Walt Disney World in a wheelchair because of my pregnancy sciatica and I wished a million blessings upon you for being such a good man.

And then in the middle of the night on a hot August evening, everything changed.  PARENTHOOD.  It was hard.  Those first few months when J had colic and we couldn't sleep and I cried and you felt stressed... it was hard.  As prepared as we were, we weren't prepared at all, really.  It was a hard season, but we made it through.  We found ways to reconnect and build a stronger foundation going forward in our marriage.  And we figured out how to be parents by figuring out there was no right or wrong, but really just instincts and constant communication.

And then, 5 months later, we got pregnant again!  People thought we were nuts.  We weren't.  E is the best little guy and what would our lives be without him?

The first year of 2 under 2 was the hardest.  We were tired and frazzled, but then we turned a corner.  E became a toddler and J was well into toddlerhood and we felt less like survivalists and more like a little family who could do things and have fun.  And in our photos, we started looking less tired.

And in our 5 years, there have been hard seasons.  Death, cancer, weight battles, financial stress... We've had our seasons of plenty and of want.  We've had our seasons of frustration and of triumph.  We've had our seasons of distance and closeness.  We've had our seasons of hurt and love.  We've had our seasons of no sleep and sleeping in.  We've had our seasons of "how can we get through this?" and "we made it!"  We've had our seasons of happy and sad.  And in every season, we've had each other.

And just like we promised we would 5 years ago today, in every season we've held the other's hands no matter what we've faced and we've been each other's rock.  We've helped the other through.  We've prayed, we've cried, we've fought, we've kissed, we've danced, we've laughed, we've overcome.  And I wouldn't have wanted to do any of this with anyone in the world besides you.

Thank you, Josh, for loving me.  Thank you for choosing me.  Thank you for supporting me through thick and thin.  Thank you for praying for me.  Thank you for creating a beautiful family with me.  Thank you for working hard so I can stay home.  Thank you for listening to my dreams.  Thank you for holding me when I cry.  Thank you for the highs and especially the lows.  Thank you for holding me up.

Happy anniversary!

Dancing in the Minefields (The Scare of our Lives)

Just as it goes in any John Hughes film, my husband and I have found at any time in our lives - and especially in our relationship - we are living in a soundtrack blasting our current favorites and anthems if not audibly at least in our minds.  I can look back on our life together and every season and pinpoint which band and album resonated the deepest and was played over and over within us and what was happening.

There was "Do You Feel" by The Rocket Summer in the beginning along with "Singularity" by Mae.  And then there was "Love Like This" by Summerset and "Underdog Alma Mater" by Forever the Sickest Kids.  And of course there was EastMountainSouth's title album and "Time Without Consequence" by Alexi Murdoch and a lacing of James Taylor all throughout.  More recently there was "Aim and Ignite" by fun and Say Anything's title track and anything by Rosie Thomas including our wedding song "Guess it May" which reminds me of listening to Angels and Airwaves on repeat and driving to Dallas to see them live.  And through the years there have been mixes exchanged and single, memorable songs.

The most memorable song to me has been "Dancing in the Minefields" by Andrew Peterson.  Our oldest, J, was born August 7, 2010.  The night I went into labor we ordered a pizza, watched Hot Tub Time Machine (I will ALWAYS remember that movie now thanks to the events that followed) and in the midst of it all we sat at the table and talked and Josh showed me the "Dancing in the Minefields" video and I cried because even though we hadn't been married quite two years yet, I got it.  Marriage is hard and marriage is great and equating that to dancing in the minefield and sailing in the storms? Brilliant!  Well done, Mr. Peterson.

And then parenthood was upon us and no matter how prepared we were, we really weren't prepared at all.  That's just how it goes.  Not sleeping was expected.  A colicky baby who wouldn't sleep anywhere but on Mama's chest and was lactose intolerant was not.  And it was a hard season.  The first three months felt like surviving and although it was always great it was a challenge and we were tired and we were changing and it was really, really hard.  And then on a particularly hard day I just knew I was pregnant so I tested and I was!  J was 5 months old.  The emotions were intense.  An extreme sense of thankfulness and joy because as hard as babies are, they're amazing and fun and growing our family was (and still is) incredible! BUT we had a 5 month old! He'd be 14 months when this new one was born.  Is that fair?  Would he be totally neglected?  Was I capable of loving two babies SO much?  I was fearful and guilty a lot of my pregnancy but of course as soon as that sweet baby E was placed in my arms I realized love didn't have to be divided between my sons, but my heart was just growing to give enough love to them both.

...And of course it was hard.  It was like repeating the previous year.  Sleepless nights.  A thousand diaper changes.  Baby food. Sitting up.  Less sleep.  Solids.  Crawling.  Everything in the mouth.  Standing... We had literally just done it all and we did it all again and we were tired.

And parenting will never get easier.  It will get harder.  A thousand diaper changes are exchanged for a season in the terrible twos which is exchanged for a preschooler's independence which is exchanged for homework which is exchanged for puberty which is exchanged for the teenage years and it's over.  And it's messy and it's exhausting and it's so absolutely wonderful all at the same time.  And in it I am thankful to have Josh.  To be partners in parenting even when it's hard.  And to be partners in parenting when it's incredible good.

And in parenting we are dancing in the minefields and sailing in the storms every single day.

This last weekend we had the scare of our lives.  After a week of tests and questions we think what happened is this: Josh took 3 doses of an advanced Mucinex medicine and woke up at 3:30am Sunday morning dizzy.  He passed out in our bathroom which I immediately heard and reacted to and he was unconscious 3 terrifying minutes.  EMSA came and hooked my pale, disoriented husband up to machines with tons of wires and  declared his heart rate was in the 180s - the rate of a 70 year old man.  They told us he was in AFib, gave him medicine to bring his heart rate down and I took my first ambulance ride.  The medicine never took his heart to a normal rate (in fact in started elevating again in the ambulance) so at the ER I listened to the Doctor suggest they sedate him and shock him to regularize his heart which is 100% effective and not that risky, but still scary.  And I watched him sign a consent to shock him and sign my name to make all the medical decisions if he could not and was asked to leave until they were finished.  The 5 minutes I spent in the waiting room I let it all sink in.  How I felt finding him.  What it was like to say my husband's name and for him to not respond or move.  How I was horrified I was losing him.  How I didn't understand what happened or why or when I'd know if it was ever going to happen again.

We made it home five hours after the episode and my parents graciously took our children to their home so we could rest.  We laid on the couch randomly watching music videos and "Dancing in the Minefield" by Andrew Peterson came on.  And I cried and cried and cried because parenthood as a minefield made sense; it is a difficult thing, but nothing could compare to the minefield that is an emergency and the unknown and the fear of loss.  In that moment I felt like I could see forever.  I could see us old and grey and wrinkled and worn and the lines on our faces would represent the babies and the financial stresses and the time J had stitches and when E was late to walk and the countless other times we worried for them and other babies forthcoming and that night and any other night or scare.  And as I considered that - the things we'd go through to get to the end - I really fell more in love with the idea of a dance.  Because in a dance, you remain touching and close and intimate and as hard as parenting is or AFib was and anything else might be, through it all we remain close and for that reason we remain strong.  That is how I always want it to be.  Dancing.  No matter how hard the thing is, we do not give up.  We do NOT let go.  Never let go.

So let's go dancing in the minefield.  Let's go sailing in the storm.  Oh this is harder than we dreamed but that's what the promise is for.  That's what the promise is for.

'Cause we bear the light of the Son of Man

So there's nothing left to fear

So I'll walk with you in the shadowlands

Till the shadows disappear

'Cause He promised not to leave us

And His promises are true

So in the face of all this chaos, baby,

I can dance with you

P.S. You can watch the video for "Dancing in the Minefield" HERE.