Last weekend, I saw something I have been looking at for a year. I saw my engagement ring. My parents and Nick and I were headed east from Memphis, where we had spent time with Rory snd Whitney. I always seem to get cheesy and nostalgic during long car rides, and somehow I realized for the 3,000th time that I'm getting married. I realized that my twenty one years young finger had a ring on it. A ring that has been brought up more times than I have cared to talk about. What struck me was that for some reason it looked different on me. It seemed different. Felt different. I felt as if I belonged to Nick. In both the negative connotations of belong-under the control, loss of independence, feeling like an object-and the positive-partnership, intamacy, endearment, Nick's act of submission to his selfishness. I felt like the ring was heavy on me. And I did not waiver in the moment of heaviness as I often catch myself doing, but I dwelled in it for much of the car ride.
The seed that has been growing in my time with God recently is that I am not required to make God fit or my feelings fit. Sit in them. Dwell. And don't be afraid of the person you might actually be. Or what you may believe about God, yourself, friends, family. I love being real. I believe that we all do. I think I spent some of our engagement period not being real with Nick or myself. About what kind of battle we will be in. Within ourselves and with the other. About my [selfish] reasons for wanting to get married. About desiring perfection and being exhausted by not having an answer for how we, two imperfect people, we're going to make ourselves perfect. How to make ourselves tidy. How to make ourselves fit.
I'm really glad God has pulled apart some of the mess that I have about giving over 60 years of life. I love Nick. More than I have before. Mostly because I have been set free from having to fit.
