Expiration Date.

Merely weeks until I get married. There’s an expiration date on my single life.

Hold onto the tender breeze, I think. As if that were possible.

All those romantic love songs are permanently coming true for me but none of the songs of unrequited love will apply ever again. It’s a bittersweet exchange. I always liked those sad songs and how well my heart ached along with them.

What have I learned? I think, as I face graduation from the Single life into a life of Co-dependence and Co-existence. Am I prepared for this next stage? Did I learn enough in the last? 

Any lessons gained are slippery in my hand in this breeze… 

There will be countless tests in our future life from which to learn the wrong answers and the better ones… but still, isn’t there a baseline requirement of how much one should know before she’s acceptably marriageable? Did I earn at least a C? I suppose the proof is in the pudding—Ben believes that I am acceptable, flaws and all. Enough to team up with and learn the ropes together. Certainly I think the same of him, so that means something, that we see each other the same way.

In the meantime, I think I’m trying to hold onto my independence, my individuality. 

My wind-blown hair tickles my face as I hold a fluffy dandelion, seeds floating away. Make a wish…

I want to believe somehow that my friendships with guys won’t be drastically affected… but they will be. To be sure, I’ve have time to adjust to the idea—first dating, then engagement. For one, I won’t be dating another guy again, ever. That's a little strange to remember sometimes. (Although, for the record, I plan on using lots of pick up lines on my husband. Simply the idea of this silly plan makes me grin.)

More than that, though, I don’t want to believe change is coming because these friendships—or whatever you call some of those relationships—have defined a major part of my identity, and suddenly, that won’t be acceptable. It probably wasn’t ever a good idea to let them define me so deeply, but now it’s obvious that there’s an expiration date to that life.

I liked that me with guy friends. It made me more interesting, in my humble opinion. It made me more accepting of different types of people, and they did teach me useful things for my relationship with my fiance...

But I’m sad. Another reason is that these friendships won’t and can’t be as close. Boys can’t confide in me in the same way because that will make our hearts vulnerable and it wouldn’t honor my husband. I agree with this. But shoot, I’ll miss those deep convos. Maybe pride is telling me that those guys need me: to be a confidant; to give a Christian perspective; to boost their self-esteem at times. Or maybe my track record with girls is making me fearful that the overall number of close friends will diminish upon marriage, because girls won’t make up those numbers. Sure, I have in-the-moment girl friends, but barely any let’s-keep-in-touch-no-matter-where-we-are friends. Forget writing letters and for-old-times get-togethers. At least in my life, it’s been males who have kept in touch, no matter if someone had moved, if it was summer or winter break… Even if we weren’t dating anymore, we often stayed friends. (Okay, mixed motives might have influenced that in some cases.) I didn’t even date girls, yet there seems to be more obstacles with staying in touch with them!

Maybe girls are more likely to tolerate long periods of little communication because they know they’ll catch up someday (what I call “feasting”). Whereas, with guys, they might prefer spreading out that communication in smaller pieces (“snacking”) and do something in person rather than talk for hours. I can handle having some relationships of the former… but not all of them, and not with the ones I really, really appreciate. In my book, the closest of friendships are both snackers and feasters, requiring both and wanting both. That is, they’re worth the effort and inconvenience... Hm, ponder that. But that’s just me.

Now I wonder: does marrying my best-ever guy friend mean that I’m signing off on a goodbye letter to the rest of the list of guy friends who don’t fit the 1-Person Slot for Male Life Companion? If so, farewell, good guys. I’ll miss you terribly. 

Selah.

Hmm. Wait.

Then again, milk has an expiration date for a reason. It goes sour. I can choose to look at this situation differently. My friendships as I’ve known them will go sour. It’s time to invest in a new style of friendships that will blend well with the recipe I’m working on: Married Life Mixed with Friends and Family. How about that?

Blow wind, blow…

RSVP, anyone?

RSVP means "respond please" in French. Is here something culturally that's going on that makes that phrase have no meaning?

Yes, I'm going to do a bit of ranting here. I am currently planning a wedding--my own, that is-- and collecting RSVPs is proving to be exceedingly difficult. I set up an online website for responses so I understand that older folks might consider this an obstacle. But I am far more frustrated by the large chunk of invitees who are my ever-connected, Web-savvy peers. I've heard it all: "I was so busy!" "I forgot!" and the most infuriating lack of excuse at all. Is this individualism at its strongest? "My excuse beats your request, no matter what."
:-(
It takes 2 minutes to RSVP. No one is that busy. Not that many people are forgetful. Planning a house party for 10 is hard enough... planning the difference in budget and space between 100 and 150 guests for a wedding reception is much harder!

Sigh. I am not one to say that this generation is overall worse than the last. But the lack of consideration is just astounding. Have RSVPs have gone the way of handwriting lessons, now considered obsolete? Funny thing is, last I heard, people are still planning weddings these days, so I can't see how guest counts aren't still useful... Or maybe our up-to-the-minute communication methods have made us believe that everything can be last minute? That makes more sense, but advance notice has its place!

Okay, okay, I'm complaining a lot. The bright side? I've learned a valuable lesson for myself for years to come: RSVP, Ellen. People appreciate it.

Woot. (That's sarcasm for "hooray.")
--Ellen 
 
P.S. Add this frustration to the long list of reasons why it's a good idea to only get married once. ;-)

Everyday Sanctuary

We ride in the car: I'm in the passenger's seat; he drives. A Christian song we both like is playing, and we nod our heads, tap our fingers, sway our shoulders. Yes, Lord.
Thoughtful, my friend comments, "The inside of my car is the closest thing to what my personal sanctuary would be."

Hmm. My writer's mind grabbed the moment and stored it for later. "Personal sanctuary." Interesting how a word that I associate with church--"sanctuary"--was paired with "car". Take it as a sign of my generation. And coming from my friend, who especially likes to drive, it makes twice as much sense. Although I don't like to drive nearly as much, I could identify with his words as well.

God is everywhere--in majestic churches and in mundane cars. That my friend and I tend to worship in both those places shows how He is smack-dab in the midst of everyday life. It's a personal space, because, at least for myself, I'm most often alone in my car. I'm not embarrassed to sing along with music, comfortable because no one can hear, free to be earnest. And my prayers spoken out loud there sound like conversations, probably more than any other time. It's easy to imagine Jesus close by, sitting in the passengers seat.

(Momentary soapbox here: The main Christian radio station that comes into my area is KLOVE. I have to say right here that I'm not a big fan of their overall choice of songs, their annoying talk shows, or the biannual fundraisers that seem to go on for ages... However, they do seek to edify their audience, so when I turn on my car and catch the verse of the day, for example, I am often encouraged. I won't complain about that! So that also contributes to creating a personal sanctuary in my car.)

A sanctuary is a special, physical place that is used habitually for spiritual awareness and worship. That's my offhand definition anyway. With that meaning, other locations such as my bedroom, the living room couch, the spot at the piano, and the Remote Outdoors in general also qualify as personal sanctuaries. I've been well aware of those locations. And please understand: I still enjoy church sanctuaries. Gathering a group of believers in one place to worship is important and powerful. But this was a new thought, so just add my personal list, "inside of my car". Hey, why not?

Can you relate? Where's your personal sanctuary?

Musingly yours,
Ellen