Author’s Note: Since I haven’t posted in over a month—and work is so busy that I may not have time to post again for a little while—I thought I’d share a snapshot from my life. Something that made me pause and evaluate. Enjoy. 🙂
Relationships are a process
It’s not every day that you open a fortune cookie and receive the same prediction. And no, that’s not a fancy saying passed down from my parents.
How often do you open two fortune cookies consecutively within the space of 5 minutes and receive the same fortune?
After a lifetime of American Chinese food and a regular handful of sweet, crunchy, Pac-man-shaped desserts wrapped in plastic, you’d think it would’ve happened sooner to me. But…nope.
After a grueling two weeks at work and two packed weekends (not to mention weeknights), I arrived at this past Friday evening with my brain full and my heart taxed. By Saturday morning, JP and I had found every excuse under the sun to argue in spectacular fashion, to the point where we were both crying over spilled milk…not literally, but close enough.
When JP’s parents walked in the door, we were finally starting to emotionally pry ourselves loose from the couch. All four of us decided to eat lunch and then head out to three local garden centers—just because we needed to get out, and it’s cheaper than heading to, say, Winterthur.
As the day wore on, my in-laws’ let’s-do-this, wow!-check-THAT-out attitude revived the two of us. I could the energy return to my soul, my somber mood brighten. I took small steps back out of the giant metaphorical turtle shell. Their love for each other and for what we were all sharing together was infectious.
It made me look at my husband and appreciate—again—just how much we’ve been through, how much we’re going through, and how much those things shape us into the people we want to be together.
Dahlias are my favorite—the physical shape of the flower is exquisite.
By the end of the day, we were well on our way back toward regular human functions. For example, running away from and being subsequently gnawed on by this velociraptor.
Or, ya know, communing with our long-lost relations.
I remembered the fortune cookie(s) at the end of the day, and smiled to myself a bit. We’d gotten them the weekend before, and I’d opened mine just after we finished apologizing to one another for the last exhausting fight. (It was a bit shocking to open—I stared at mine and just said ‘huh’ stupidly for a while until JP grabbed it from my hand to read.)
Fortune cookies: God’s message in a bottle
JP and I argue. Cry a lot. Lock ourselves in bathrooms. Play a piano dirge with the headphones on. Fold laundry frenetically and make the bed. Try to cook waffles without grease on the iron. All the good stuff—and then we talk it out, try to understand each others’ viewpoint, and continue to learn to love the other for who God is shaping them to be.
We have faith that, although things are not always easy, we’re walking parallel to one another: and there’s a very incredible individual in between, holding both of our hands to ensure that we reach all the right waypoints on our journey.
“There are many ways you can be hurtful, but only one way to heal. That is through love.”