Happy Thanks-iversary

Fourteen years ago tonight I crawled into a hotel bed with my soon-to-be mother-in-law. I must have eventually made some sort of bargain with sleep to rush me into the next day. It would be the day after Thanksgiving- the day I would marry Wesley Johnson in the Seattle LDS temple.

November 26, 1999

Oh, how I treasure my friendship with Wes!

Today, I am especially grateful for our marriage covenants, personal revelation, and the gospel that binds us together.

I am grateful for my husband's kindness to me. He has ALWAYS treated me respectfully. He encourages me and supports me in my aspirations.

Neither of us is perfect and so tonight I am grateful that he has always been the first to apologize- whether or not he is wrong. I am grateful for forgiveness.

I am grateful for the opportunities to grow and mature together as we've recognized the Lord's tender mercies during difficult times.

I am grateful for my husband's faith and his desire to always do Heavenly Father's will, even when that requires some bending on his part.

His desire to understand ME rather than jam me into some preconceived ideal was perhaps one of the things that first drew me to Wes. I am grateful for his devotion to meeting my needs, often at the expense of meeting his own.

I am grateful for the five incredibly special children who have truly blessed our marriage and that everyday they see how much their parents are still completely in love with each other. 

Happy Anniversary, my dear friend, Wes. This Thanksgiving, as always, I am thankful for YOU.

Book Binding

"They came today,"  he said standing over me in the hall. It was Thursday evening and I was folded over on the floor outside of the children's bedrooms, waiting for them to fall asleep. They were almost there.

I reached up to take the thick hardcover book from my husband's left hand--one of two we were expecting from Amazon. He was holding the second in his right hand.

"Awesome. I'll be down in a minute." I opened the cover and was immediately sucked in.

Wes had come home from work just in time to say good-night to the kids and the two surprise baby fish that had appeared in Tyjah's fish tank. This had caused a huge stir at bed-time, with children running from bedroom to bedroom to relay minute-by-minute updates.

"One's behind the heater!"

"The big fish is chasing them!"

Tyjah's face brimmed with all the concern and pride of a new father.

Wes smiled at me knowingly as he passed by me again in the hallway and I listened as he made his way back to the couch at the bottom of the stairs. Even though I knew we would both be completely absorbed in our own books for the rest of the evening, I couldn't wait to be down there with him.

But sleepy children can come up with all kinds of ways of staving off the heaviest of eyelids. And, of course, the new fish didn't help. It took a while longer before I, too, made my way down the stairs. Shrugging off the option to have the second couch all to myself, I walked to the other end of the couch where Wes was stretched out. Without looking up from his book, he turned on his side and tucked his feet toward his chest to make room for me. 

We sat in comfortable silence, broken occasionally as one or the other of us offered up an interesting word from our reading.

"Affability" one of us might say aloud. 

To which the other would invariably respond, "that's a good word."

Sometimes I would look up wanting to share an impressive passage with him, but seeing him absorbed in his own book, I held back. 

" Are you going to read this book?" He interrupted. "Because I really want you to read it, too, so we can talk about it."

Ten minutes disappeared into the stillness.

"Ah!!! I REALLY want you to read this book!" 

I smiled from behind my own book at his lack of patience.

Ironically, the hardcovers held up between us do more to bind us together than separate us.

Chapter ten. Eighty-three pages into my new book, I thought I'd better check the time. I didn't want to because I knew it would lead to me putting my book down. But Wes's breathing had grown heavy on the other end of the couch and I knew it must be later than I hoped.

I sat up. His eyes were closed and his book had fallen to his chest, but the squeeze of his hand on my ankle told me not only that he was aware of me, but that he didn't want me to go.

I quickly went through the routine of getting ready for bed then joined him again downstairs.

************************

It was Sunday when he opened the book that I had just finished and insisted that he MUST read. See? It works both ways.

How Wes approaches a new book is nothing short of ART.

He sat beside me, turning the book over in his hand, respectfully inspecting its binding. He removed the jacket carefully, tenderly ran his index finger over the embossed title on the spine, then just as carefully, folded the book back into its protective wrap. He read the back cover, then opened the front cover and read the flap. Slowly he turned through the first few pages--the blank ones and the title page. He checked the date of publication and then finally...began reading the preface.

I am so happily bound to this man.

I Thought I Loved You Then

"Do you want to listen to something?'

It had been quiet ever since we both sat down at our desks ten minutes earlier. We share an office, my desk facing one wall and his another. In the evenings, after the kids are all in bed, it is our retreat--nothing but the two of us tapping away at our keyboards.

"Yeah," I replied in perfect confidence, knowing my husband's taste in music mirrors closely my own.

He snickered as The Hamster Dance rudely interrupted the peaceful ambiance I crave after 9 pm.

"Uh...NO thank you."

I can always count on Wes to make me laugh at some point in the evening.

Within a few minutes he found something perfect on Spotify.

"Ooooh. This is nice," I said, recognizing the instrumental version of a song by The Fray.

More tapping on the keyboard.

"This is something you might hear in an elevator," I said. "You know, the easy-going instrumental version of a popular song."

Silence.

"We just made elevator music our listening choice for the evening," I continued.  "I think that makes us old."

Truth be told, I love growing "old" with Wes.

A few weeks ago we showed our kids some YouTube videos of people running the Snake River. It brought back memories for both of us of falling in love in between our own river runs.

That night, in the the family room, ten wide eyes stared up at us, captivated by the stories of the younger versions of their mom and dad.

There's nothing quite like remembering that time when we were just beginning to define our lives by the other's presence. Each of us laying awake at night, wondering if the other could possibly feel the same way. Hoping the time apart, before we could see each other again, would pass quickly. Starting to picture the rest of our lives together.

All that is young love wells up in my heart again--only it's layered, compounded by fourteen years of complete emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual intimacy. A feeling hardly captured with a cliche, "I thought I loved you then."

And I know we're not ancient. But fourteen years of the kind of closeness marriage can foster makes me feel "old" in a good way.

The other day I sat in my car, bawling my eyes out as I listened to Fred's story of Sweet Lorriane on NPR. Have you heard the song he composed for his wife of 73 years?

Again, "I thought I loved you then," just isn't adequate.

How grateful I am for the covenants we have made in the Lord's temple. To know that though we grow old together and one day death will take us, we will be together again. Eternal marriage is a gift from a loving Heavenly Father, made possible through the Atonement of His son, Jesus Christ.

For more information on LDS temples and eternal marriage, go here and here.

A Spider, a Thief, and a Marriage

I'm still trying to figure out this whole blogging thing. It's been, what? Eight months since I left my comfortable seat along the blogosphere wall and joined the dance? And since becoming a contributor for Mormon Mommy Blogs earlier this summer, I'm now trying to figure out which posts to publish on MMB and which are better suited for Five in the Foothills. I think I'm working it out okay, but occasionally I feel like my dance card is double-booked. 

Below is a reposting of one of my first MMB articles (go here for the original post), including the same freaky photo that still makes my skin crawl...

Photo credit: Amy Selleck

"RAAAAAAHHHH!!!"

It was definitely a battle-cry, but what kind of war could he possibly be waging up there?

I heard the the toilet flush and then saw him at the top of the stairs; my husband was flexing his biceps and trying not to smile. His eyes glimmered with accomplishment.

I smiled back in complete understanding. "You just killed a spider, didn't you?"

If by divine design...fathers are responsible to provide... protection for their families, well...when it came to spiders Wes was still working on it.

It was only a few months later, though, when he would stand to protect his family from much more than an eight-legged pest.

Every moment of that night is still vivid in my mind. It was sometime around 2 AM when I woke up with the feeling that something was wrong. I got out of bed to check on Beau, who at the time was our only child. His body was sprawled out on top of his bed and yes, his chest was rising and falling in rhythm with his breathing. I went back to bed.

But I still couldn't sleep. Not knowing what else to do with the growing pit in the bottom of my stomach, I crossed the hall again, scooped up Beau, and carried him back to our bed.

Wes normally sleeps like a rock, but by this time he was fully alert to my anxiety. Finally, I had the distinct impression that someone was lurking around downstairs. No noise. Just an undeniably clear impression. With decision in my hushed voice, I turned to Wes:

"Someone is in our house!"

He stood to act on my prompting immediately, calling out from the top of the stairs and demanding that the possible intruder leave. It was then that we heard an object drop and the intruder make his exit.

Over the years, this experience has become more than just a scary story to retell around the campfire. As we continue to reflect on the events of that night, we are first and most importantly grateful for the Lord's hand in protecting our family. We are also reminded that there is no competition between whose role is more important in our marriage. It was Wes who stood to protect our family that night, but not without my intuition.

On those days when my husband drags through the door after working a 12-hour shift only to be greeted by a disheveled wife with peanut butter in her hair, a half-naked screaming toddler in her arms, and ANOTHER six loads of laundry at her feet, any argument over whose role is more important is just not helpful.

Marriage is not a competition. 

Both my husband and I continue to make unique and equally vital contributions to the success of our family.

A question NOT to ask your spouse ie. "loaded questions"

So, we're sitting around the dinner table, talking about a show called The Walking Dead. There is the main character, his wife and his best friend. We find out that the wife thought the main character (her hubby) had died and then starts to sleep with his best friend. Okay. I get it (sorta). Sadness. End of the world as we know it. Not sure how much time has passed so we'll let this go.

By season 6, we find out that somewhere between 30-45 days went by before she slept with her hubby's best friend. What? That can't be right. I don't like the main character's wife anymore....especially when we find out that the main character finds his wife, son AND best friend with other survivors...and no one says anything. No one comes clean. Boooooo.

So, I am talking about this, at dinner, and Brian says, "It's the apocalypse. Give her a break." Needing to argue for whatever reason and because in 16 years I've never asked, I ask, "Well how long would YOU wait until after I died to either meet someone else, or you know...do the deed? Never mind the apocalypse. How long?"

He says, "It would depend."

WHAT????? Stop the press. I'm pissed already. But, instead of ending it there, I say, "Well, I'd be willing to give you, oh, you know, 90 days to grieve."

He then says, "Each person grieves differently. I don't know how long it would take, but you're being ridiculous on giving a set time."

I left the table. lol

This is how I heard it. "I don't love you enough to know for certain that I would grieve for a long time."

This is what I was hoping he would say, "It would take a very long time to stop grieving for you. I don't know how long, but just the idea of you dying makes a tear come to my eye. I wouldn't even THINK of dating anyone else. For quite awhile."

Women. Why do we ask these questions that really, there is no right answer? Hence...loaded question. I wouldn't want him to grieve forever. I would want him to find someone else...eventually. I just wanted to know that the loss of me would be devastating. He didn't answer it wrong. I heard it wrong.

After being extremely pissed all that night and then most of the day (Brian had the Friday off) we finally talk about it again and said the "right" things.

Don't ask questions that you aren't sure how they are going to answer.

Here's a list:

What really happened at your bachelor party?
Do you think I need to lose a little weight?
Am I turning out like my mom?

Please feel free to add more. :P

16 years

Wow.

How did time pass so quickly?

Happy Anniversary, my love.

14 years

Yeah, I'll toot my own horn a bit. I think it's huge to make it this far in this day and age. Divorce still at 50%. Absolutely asinine. People ask me how do we do it, and so I'm going to write a bit of sage advice that I've learned from 14 years of marriage. Here goes:

1. Communication. All old married couples say this, but it's absolutely true. I don't care if it's a knock down fight or quietly expressing your views, you've got to communicate. WITH this, you have to listen and respect the views of your spouse. If it's all one-sided, it ceases to be communication and becomes nagging.

2. Absolutely believe your spouse is capable of anything. My hubby is my warrior. The smartest and most talented man on the face of this Earth. I believe if he wants something, he can achieve it. He's superman. I'm his biggest fan.

3. Don't belittle your spouse. Respect one another with what you say to each other.

4. Love them with everything you have so it withstands the bad days. You're gonna have them. Annoying little habits. Saying trite things. This is YOU I'm talking abnout. You expect your spouse to love you even though you make mistakes, don't they deserve the same love back?

5. Make your spouse number one. I have a hard time with this one. Three kids to occupy my time. Family everywhere. He still needs to be the first thing I think about in the morning and before I go to bed.

6. Find things to do together that you both enjoy.

7. Love their mother-in-law or at least put up with her with a smile on your face.

8. Make time for each other.

9. Say "I love you" everyday before they leave for work, the house, etc. You never know if it's the last thing you'll say to them.

10. Don't ever let them hear you talk ill of them in front of another person.

11. Having God in your marriage.