Here I am. between classes, on the sacred grounds of Starbucks on Guadalupe. I went to get my passion tea, and the lady knew me by name. I’m honored, and slightly ashamed… but more honored than anything. But I’m glad we’ve finally made it past spelling my name wrong right above the mermaid head. Ever since Barnes and Noble found it necessary to provide a second rate tablet, the Kindle, to America’s readers, any hope of someone spelling my name correctly has been severed. I never thought I would be a Starbucks girl. But I guess the potential never revealed itself, until I lived in a place where I can’t walk out my front door without a green banner of temptation luring me in for yet another cup of overpriced caffeine. And curse the person who told me that, while not advertised on the actual menu, there is, in fact, a size called Trenta. Trenta.. the size ABOVE Venti. Yes. And for 20 cents more, how can I be expected to resist the extra 12 ounces?

On any account, I didn’t start this post to write about my iced coffee obsession… even if it has been a big part of my life lately. I did, though, want to update my devoted bloggers about the recent events in my life.

First of all, Clint and I have joined a newly married class through the Stone. As outgoing as I am, I thought joining a group of other young couples would be a playground to me. False. The first day we’re supposed to go, I’m suddenly panicked at the thought of being in this class at all, jokingly suggesting(but actually being pretty serious) that we should just go home and sleep some more. (“you’re tired aren’tchya Clint?!) Of course, Clint, who is shy, but has no fear for groups meeting in the name of something serious/deep, drags me into the room as I hide behind his forearm. This huge room (which doubles as a highschool orchestra room), just swarming with couples who are already greeting each other and chewing on their breakfast tacos was anything but something I was happy to place myself in the middle of. I immediately realized what a different social dynamic being married provides. You’re in this room where everyone has their best friend with them already. You have a conversation with someone, and suddenly the conversation is between the couple you’re talking to.

me: “So.. what’s your name?”

girl I’m attempting to make semi awkward conversation with: “Susan… Oh and this is David *aggressively grabs her hubby to her side*

He waves, slightly annoyed that he has been jerked from his talk of college sports with the guy he was talking to, previous to involuntarily  becoming the conversation safety net of his wife.

girl: “what were you guys talking about over there David? Oh ya, David is friends with that guy he was talking to through his Biology class he has when he was in highschool.. aren’t you Hunny? Yes, we actually went to highschool there together and ….”

It immediately blends into a dialogue between the couple, simply stating things they already know to each other, while keeping direct eye contact and giggling nervously until you make up an excuse to get back to your table, not knowing either of them any more than you did when you walked up… except that some guy in here had Biology with the girl’s hub.

Clint seems to have a good time, making conversation with some of the guys, and happily encouraging me with: “Looks like you made a friend over there with that girl you were talking to!” Instead of trying to explain the girlish dynamics of the exchange, I decide to nod my head.

After making it through couples Bingo, successfully finding someone who has been an extra on a movie, owns more than 20 stuffed animals (I didn’t ask questions), and someone who had eaten the biggest burrito that Free Bird’s has (literally the size of a baby.. which, of course, I found out to be my own husband), I was about ready to bail. As the sermon finished up, and people started stacking chairs, it was suggested that we all go out to lunch together.  You know we had to. I wasn’t going to be that couple the very first week. Fine, I’ll go eat some food in community and then I’ll convince Clint that we don’t need to be in the class anymore.

Lunch passes, and it’s time for Tuesday community group with a group of 4 other couples. There’s the doozy. Now I have to share intimate details with these people I hardly know? I’ll be the first to admit, I sometimes talk too much, but I’ll be last in a group to tell you anything about my personal life. It just makes me uncomfortable. And too vulnerable. I don’t know. But as the night went on, in the homey atmosphere of our leader’s personal apartment, I saw the protective front we had all put on melt in front of me. I realized that these people are just like me. And just like Clint. Newly married, without a damn clue what we’re doing.

Since that Tuesday, I have really grown fond of my group, as we have been diving into the Word about what being married really means, and how to not only respect/love each other, but make our love for each other reflect the love of Christ; to be a wordless testimony to other people of God’s love and sacrifice. My heart breaks for the couples that never got to have that kind of faithful shepherding in their early (or even mature) marriage walk. I’m learning every day how little marriage has to do with “being happy”, but how much it has to do with sacrificially, and humbly loving another person. It’s seriously so beautiful to me. It’s hard as Hades, but it’s the deepest form of true humanity I have ever experienced. And I’m thankful that I have the Lord to have the grace and privilege to walk through this time with the most wonderful, loving, Christian man I have ever met.

Love, k.

One thought on “mawwiiage

  1. That post left me with a grin too wide to fit on my face hun. You really do write beautifully. I don’t know how I managed to get so lucky with such an amazing, beautiful, brave, talented, loving, and Christ-seeking wife like you:)

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