Into The Great Unkown
For the last several months, myself and Madame, along with the help of family and future in-laws, have been preparing for our upcoming nuptials. My coworkers have joined in the fun and have been giving me "tips" on how to survive being married. They have run the gamut from sending me good luck wishes alongside pictures of the grim reaper to invoking images of the ball-and-chained prisoner. One of them even went so far as to suggest, after hearing we were going to get our marriage license, that I stop in at the Sheriffs office and get a gun permit at the same time.
I may not have gone on any crazy road trips lately, mainly because the pre-marriage preparation (as mentioned above) has been enough of an adventure. But even after all of this, I do find it important to mention to the outside audience that we both remain strongly (and strangely?) committed to driving each other bonkers for the rest of our life. I mean...loving each other unconditionally for the rest of our life.
The other day, I finally had a few minutes to step outside of all of this crazy mess of wedding planning and pre-marital counseling and a thought struck me: what happens after? Those of you who know me I will never be content to sit back on my heels and become captive to the slave of routine -- at least for too long. For a short answer, I refer back to my last post. But that doesn't completely answer the question, either.
Let me pose it to you this way:
As of late, in an effort to find a suitable gift for my groomsmen, I have been re-reading a book one of my friends gave me to read: "Desiring God; Thoughts on Being a Christian Hedonist" by John Piper. In one of the appendices, he gives this illustration from "The Simple Life" by Vernard Eller, who retells a parable by Soren Kirkegaard:
"When the prosperous man on a dark but starlit night drives comfortably in his carriage and has the lanterns lighted, aye, then he is safe, he fears no difficulty, he carries his light with him, and it is not dark close around him. But precisely because he has the lanterns lighted, and has a strong light close to him, precisely for this reason, he cannot see the stars. For his lights obscure the stars, which the poor peasant, driving without lights, can see gloriously in the dark but starry night. So those deceived ones live in the temporal existence: either, occupied with the necessities of life, they are too busy to avail themselves of the view, or in their prosperity and good days they have, as it were, lanterns lighted, and close about them everything is so satisfactory, so pleasant, so comfortable — but the view is lacking, the prospect, the view of the stars."
This is, perhaps a new approach at an old question. I have finally reached a turning point in my life, i.e. getting married to the woman who I want to call my wife for the rest of my life; I have been, personally, been preparing myself mentally for this transition, for the inclusion of someone else into my life and vice versa and what I have found my hesitation to be is this exactly: losing my view of the stars.
In order to become responsible for and protect your family, the best way to do so is to create that carriage and drive by lantern-light (figuratively speaking...we are in 2014) and don't get me wrong - I want to do that, I am thankful for the opportunity that has been provided for me to do so, but at the same time; my greatest enjoyment in being single (and, well, let's face it - poor) was the ability to step outside of the lantern light and enjoy the view of the stars! To be able to have the advantage of easily seeing the big picture! The irony of growing up is that you now have the job that you can afford to go about and do the things that you really wanted to do, but you lack the time.
The obvious advice (and this was even mentioned in marriage counseling!) is to be sure to carve out time for just yourself - don't forget about the stars - go and see them.
I remember when my brother and I were younger, we went to visit some friends of my parents, and it was coming up towards sunset and the gentleman told my brother and I to grab a flashlight and follow him; he wanted to give us a "man's lesson." We walked out from the house a ways, through a short stretch of wood and ended up at the top of a field that faced west. We turned and watched the sun turn in the sky. Me, being the night time person of the family, was restless and out of impatience I asked what was this big "man lesson." He smirked, and sipped his coffee from his ceramic mug and pointed to the sunset and softly said:"This. You won't understand it now, but you will realize that taking time to do this every day will be the best thing you will ever do."
And I didn't understand it. Though I kept his advice in mind and since then, I have taken the time to do just "this." Perhaps this is why I have always enjoyed watching sunsets, I do not know nor will I really ever know for sure.
My point being, perhaps this is a good place to start: with "this," as I have in the past. Once again make "this" my opportunity to step away from the carriage, and the lantern and once again get to see the stars.
The difference, though, this time I have a reason to get back in the carriage.
I may not have gone on any crazy road trips lately, mainly because the pre-marriage preparation (as mentioned above) has been enough of an adventure. But even after all of this, I do find it important to mention to the outside audience that we both remain strongly (and strangely?) committed to driving each other bonkers for the rest of our life. I mean...loving each other unconditionally for the rest of our life.
The other day, I finally had a few minutes to step outside of all of this crazy mess of wedding planning and pre-marital counseling and a thought struck me: what happens after? Those of you who know me I will never be content to sit back on my heels and become captive to the slave of routine -- at least for too long. For a short answer, I refer back to my last post. But that doesn't completely answer the question, either.
Let me pose it to you this way:
As of late, in an effort to find a suitable gift for my groomsmen, I have been re-reading a book one of my friends gave me to read: "Desiring God; Thoughts on Being a Christian Hedonist" by John Piper. In one of the appendices, he gives this illustration from "The Simple Life" by Vernard Eller, who retells a parable by Soren Kirkegaard:
"When the prosperous man on a dark but starlit night drives comfortably in his carriage and has the lanterns lighted, aye, then he is safe, he fears no difficulty, he carries his light with him, and it is not dark close around him. But precisely because he has the lanterns lighted, and has a strong light close to him, precisely for this reason, he cannot see the stars. For his lights obscure the stars, which the poor peasant, driving without lights, can see gloriously in the dark but starry night. So those deceived ones live in the temporal existence: either, occupied with the necessities of life, they are too busy to avail themselves of the view, or in their prosperity and good days they have, as it were, lanterns lighted, and close about them everything is so satisfactory, so pleasant, so comfortable — but the view is lacking, the prospect, the view of the stars."
This is, perhaps a new approach at an old question. I have finally reached a turning point in my life, i.e. getting married to the woman who I want to call my wife for the rest of my life; I have been, personally, been preparing myself mentally for this transition, for the inclusion of someone else into my life and vice versa and what I have found my hesitation to be is this exactly: losing my view of the stars.
In order to become responsible for and protect your family, the best way to do so is to create that carriage and drive by lantern-light (figuratively speaking...we are in 2014) and don't get me wrong - I want to do that, I am thankful for the opportunity that has been provided for me to do so, but at the same time; my greatest enjoyment in being single (and, well, let's face it - poor) was the ability to step outside of the lantern light and enjoy the view of the stars! To be able to have the advantage of easily seeing the big picture! The irony of growing up is that you now have the job that you can afford to go about and do the things that you really wanted to do, but you lack the time.
The obvious advice (and this was even mentioned in marriage counseling!) is to be sure to carve out time for just yourself - don't forget about the stars - go and see them.
I remember when my brother and I were younger, we went to visit some friends of my parents, and it was coming up towards sunset and the gentleman told my brother and I to grab a flashlight and follow him; he wanted to give us a "man's lesson." We walked out from the house a ways, through a short stretch of wood and ended up at the top of a field that faced west. We turned and watched the sun turn in the sky. Me, being the night time person of the family, was restless and out of impatience I asked what was this big "man lesson." He smirked, and sipped his coffee from his ceramic mug and pointed to the sunset and softly said:"This. You won't understand it now, but you will realize that taking time to do this every day will be the best thing you will ever do."
And I didn't understand it. Though I kept his advice in mind and since then, I have taken the time to do just "this." Perhaps this is why I have always enjoyed watching sunsets, I do not know nor will I really ever know for sure.
My point being, perhaps this is a good place to start: with "this," as I have in the past. Once again make "this" my opportunity to step away from the carriage, and the lantern and once again get to see the stars.
The difference, though, this time I have a reason to get back in the carriage.
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