I’ve been writing a lot about broken relationships in the last few blog posts…so much so I think you all are sick of it. Enough of beating that dead horse, I think I hear you saying, Time to move on to new things. Time to write about Ivan.
But my relationship with Ivan is still so new I can’t write about it, much. That would be like picking up a newborn baby and hammering the soft indent on the top of its head. No. Gotta go slow, gotta give that skull time to firm up and protect the newly formed awareness housed in that child’s brain before you give the head anything more than feather light taps.
I can tell you a few things. I can tell you we met for the first time in March of this year, and I can tell you that in the six months I have known him, my perspective—my entire outlook on life—has changed more than I ever imagined it could in such a short time. “You always look so happy when you’re with Ivan,” my sister told me. “Even when you’re not with him, you seem different, more relaxed.”
I feel it inside myself: a gentling and a softening. I feel less of a need to prove myself, to work for love, to show my worth through accomplishment. Ivan loves me. It feels like enough. I notice for the first time how relational I am, how I will set aside work and rearrange my schedule for the sake of a friend, how I move slow through my mornings and speed up through the day, how I sit down at night with my work still undone and chat with my family, how I make schedules and never follow them. My mom always did those things. For the first time, I realize how much I am like her, and it seems like a good thing, appropriate. I want to have children and give them the same sort of attention she always gave us. Sometimes it almost feels I could forget my writing dreams, my plans for an education and career and just settle in and walk barefoot across carpets and linoleums, push out children and then raise them up, drive tractor across rowed fields, feel sun in my face and wind in my hair, and just live, like my mother.
I won’t forget the writing dreams…but they seem less important now.
There are so many things about Ivan I never wanted. I never wanted to marry a farmer. Never wanted to marry someone ten years older than me. Never wanted to marry someone who misused English (even though almost all my favorite people do). Never wanted to marry a traditional, died-in-the-wool Mennonite who upheld strict gender roles and a rigid dress code and CLP books only. (Ivan doesn’t fit that description, but before we started dating I did exactly what I hate when others do to me: prejudged him by his dress.)
When he emailed me in February to ask if I would consider dating, my initial thought was, Oh, no. I had been suspicious of his intentions ever since he first emailed me back in August, introducing himself and commenting on a blog post. Some rejected bachelor using last-ditch efforts to get a girl, was my cold-hearted assessment. But his comments were kind and friendly, and I answered back in a similar fashion, trying to be encouraging without giving him any ideas.
When his emails grew more frequent, and he mentioned his desire to stop in and visit sometime, I thought I’d better tell him upfront I wasn’t interested. That’s such an awkward email to write, though, and I conveniently pushed it off so long I was sure he must have gotten the hint without me saying anything. With my lack of enthusiasm, I obviously wasn’t interested.
That’s when I got his letter asking me to date.
His letter, though. It was honest, vulnerable, faith-filled, humble. I connected with his words immediately, knew exactly the wealth of emotion each one represented. Yes, I’ll date you, I thought after reading it. How could I say no, after a letter like that?
But the next morning, I looked at the pictures he had sent and tried to picture introducing him—with his country boots and barn-door pants and conservative Beachy haircut and the sun-and-smile wrinkles of a forty-year-old man—to my polished professors and bright young college friends in Boston. I just couldn’t envision him fitting into my world, and I called Mom later that day, crying because I knew I would have to tell him no, and I felt bad for him.
My wise dad is the one who convinced me to invite him to visit Wisconsin during my spring break before making a final decision. “I don’t want to go any deeper, just to say no after he visits,” I said. I knew from his letter—already, before I met him—just how devastating that might be.
“I think he’d appreciate if you’d at least give him a chance,” said Dad.
And so I did. First I said yes to dating and three months later, to marriage.
I’ve learned a lot about myself through this courtship. I’ve learned how selfish I am, and how proud, and how easily I judge by appearance instead of looking at the heart. I’ve learned that even my desire to do good and help others is often a self-centered thing, driven by my own need to prove myself and easily derailed.
I’ve learned how nice it feels to be taken care of—always before I valued my independence—and learned that because Ivan loves me for who I am, wholehearted and accepting, because he values every part of me and has learned the secret of showing me his heart, the tightness inside me unrolls like a banana peel, and I am soft in his hands. I’ve learned that small things matter. I’ve learned that even the most painful experiences are twice as easy when I have a friend to walk with me in the pain. No words are necessary, only presence.
I’ve been reading Dad and Mom’s love letters in honor of my own coming marriage, and I want to end this post with a quote from Dad. As our 8-month courtship morphs into a life-long commitment in November, I believe that remembering this truth will make all the difference in helping Ivan and I to attain the lasting sort of love I see in my parents’ marriage. (Ivan is already better at this than I am. I hope to learn.)
“Rose,” Dad writes, “isn’t love funny? I used to think it’s something that just came without any troubles at all. But love is being unselfish mainly, isn’t it? Oh sure, I know it’s a lot more than that. But really when we know each other real good, and like when we’re married and it gets down to the nitty gritty, it’s unselfishness that will make our love last.”
It’s unselfishness that will make our love last. I have no words better, no higher goal.
I can connect so well to your soul searching and realizations, since I did my share of judging by appearances with previous potential suitors and unfortunately with my beloved husband, too. So thankful for God’s Amazing Grace and the way He helps us learn through the hard mistakes!
Marriage does not require you to stop writing. I wrote through all the years I was raising six children. Time was limited and sometimes it was only a half day per week, but you can do it if you really want to. You have talent. Don’t hide it under a dairy cow’s udder.
Thank you for the encouragement, Romaine. You are a wonderful example of how to fit writing into a life and were part of the impetus that started me on my writing journey. I won’t give it up!
I’m glad I signed up for your blog-this is interesting! How special that you get to read your parents letters. God bless you and Ivan as you prepare for marriage!
Thanks for sharing the quote: it’s the unselfishness that makes the love last. Beautiful!
Now I see you are stitching Ivan into the fabric of your life, all of it! And you don’t have to give up writing. I doubt that Ivan would want you to; he seems kind and easy-going. Part of the description “barn door pants” was not lost on me. Tee hee!
Blessings during the engagement, wedding, and marriage, a blessed state. I sent a link to a blog post on the state of our marriage via Facebook. (Don’t want to “spam” you here; that wouldn’t do.) :-D
Thanks for the update, Luci!
I will check out the link, Marian. Thank you. And no, Ivan most definitely doesn’t want me to give up writing–he is my number one encourager and fan.
It was interesting hearing about Ivan! How long had you known him or known of him before he sent the email in August of 2018? Or was he a complete stranger at first?
Thanks for sharing! Congratulations on your upcoming wedding!
A complete stranger. :)
This is great Luci. Sorry, I had laugh about the prejudging part, mostly because of the blunt way you wrote it (being blunt I think makes a good writer or speaker), but also (on a more serious note) because I know I am that way, way too often. Thanks for the quote from your dad. Keep writing!
Thank you! I really did want to know. Good words.
It is the last sentence that is the key to a happy marriage. It is unselfishness on both parties parts that will make for special joy and love on earth. The roles inside marriage do not have to be completely traditional even though you are Mennonite either. Allow each other to fit the roles that God has equipped each for and you will pull together like a well oiled machine.
Blessings Luci! I love how you embrace each stage of life.
Oh I could just burst, I’m so happy for you. Love – it’s like coming home, their is nothing quite like it ~ Blessings to you (Linda)
Good description of love, Linda. Thank you!
Thank you for sharing! It was so well written, and I felt like I could identify with all of it. Congratulations and blessings as you start a new chapter.
I loved reading this! So interesting to see Ivan through your eyes. I went to school with him and we are actually neighbors. I’m so happy for both of you and wish you the very best!
And the quote from your dad is spot on!
I will be meeting you very soon, then. I look forward to it. :)
Oh Luci, I could relate to so much of this though I would have never articulated it so well. I’m so grateful that you were given the gift of a wonderful man.
Gina
Thank you, Gina. I always love hearing from you. <3
“I want to have children and give them the same sort of attention she always gave us. Sometimes it almost feels I could forget my writing dreams, my plans for an education and career and just settle in and walk barefoot across carpets and linoleums, push out children and then raise them up, drive tractor across rowed fields, feel sun in my face and wind in my hair, and just live, like my mother.”
If you go that route, please blog about it occasionally!
I will! I don’t plan to give up writing. :)
I read the blog, I farm , I say farming is where it’s at, forget city lifestyle.
Proud of you, in so many ways.
Hi Luci!
You don’t know me and I don’t know you as we have never met. But since Luci Martin had you on as a guest writer I have been following your blogs and enjoying them. I knew you were from WI from something you wrote but it wasn’t till a couple weeks ago that I figured out who your parents are. I am Burdette Weirich’s daughter. Your parents will know them if you don’t. Praying for you as you face new experiences in life. And keep writing! It’s a talent used for God’s glory!!!
Viola Carpenter
Hi Viola, it’s good to hear from you. I know my parents know Burdette, and I have certainly heard the name, though I can’t put a face to it. I will tell them I heard from you! And thank you for praying. I need lots of that. :)
Reading this warms my heart, and partly restores my slowly-becoming- cynical heart. I observed you two at a wedding recently and I can attest that you both looked wildly happy! God bless you. -Wendy Weaver
Thank you Wendy!