When I said "I do"
by Tiffany L. Tibbs

We wrote our wedding vows underneath a maple tree in a park near my house. We were 22 and 23. Our vows were filled with words like “cherish,” “treasure,” “love,” and “forever.” Saying the words aloud on our wedding day made me shiver. I believed every word we said as we made those abstract and idealistic promises. Still do. Even twelve years later.

But if I were to write our vows now, they would look much different. More practical, less theoretical. They might not be appropriate for a church ceremony (see the one about poopy diapers), but they tell the real story of our marriage.

I promise . . .

To meet you halfway around the world, on time, exactly where I said I would be.

My husband is notoriously late. For everything. I despise being late. So when Kevin asked me to meet him at the end of his business trip in China to travel together, I had some doubts about whether he would make it to the airport on time. He reassured me repeatedly that he would be there, but my doubts intensified as I flew by myself on a 14-hour flight to Asia. What in the world would I do if he wasn’t there? I didn’t know anyone in Shanghai, nor could I speak or read the language. Then I realized his cell phone didn’t work overseas. What if he forgot his watch (not an unlikely possibility) or got mixed up on the time change? How long would I wait at baggage claim before I gave up? Then what? Get a hotel by myself? How would we ever connect? I was in full-fledged terror when my flight landed, not just on time, but early!

I stepped off the plane. Surrounded by a sea of unfamiliar faces and bombarded by the foreignness of it all, I stumbled to the baggage claim. I was just about to cry when . . . there he was. On time. Early, even. Standing there, waiting to find me. I have never been happier to see him.

To get you into and out of any number of crazy situations, like the time we got a flat tire on the side of a mountain in a foreign country and we still had fun.

I am not by nature a risk-taker, yet through Kevin’s encouragement and my travels with him, I have travel stories that rival those of any explorer. On a trip to Costa Rica, Kevin suggested taking a “shortcut” that involved driving over dilapidated bridges and through raging rivers. A short time later, predictably, we had a flat tire. And it was almost nightfall.

Yet he got us out of that predicament, as I always trust he will. As a result, I have seen some of the most beautiful scenery and have met some of the most interesting people. I’ve had great adventures. And even when there isn’t an adventure, Kevin makes life fun. I would rather be stuck in the middle of nowhere with him than somewhere spectacular with anyone else.

To laugh with you during a ridiculously long childbirth class, and cry with you during the ridiculously long childbirth.

After many years of traveling, we took the plunge into another kind of adventure — parenthood. In preparation, we took a four-week, ridiculously long childbirth class. Fortunately, Kevin decided he was there to provide comic relief. As we were practicing relaxation techniques, he said something that made me start to giggle. And the harder I tried not to laugh, the more funny it seemed. My giggle grew into a full-body belly laugh, which only made both of us laugh harder. We were almost kicked out of the childbirth class.

But when push came to shove, literally, during delivery, he was dead serious. It was a difficult labor. He stood by my bedside, holding my hand and watching the machines with a fierce concentration. During one quiet moment in the middle of the night, he turned to me with tears in his eyes and said, “You are so brave.” That gave me the chance to cry, which was exactly what I needed before gathering my strength for the last long push.

To change the poopy diaper that comes dangerously close to putting you over the edge.

During the first few months after our daughter was born, I craved sleep the way I imagine one might crave an addictive drug. Kevin got up during the night to help for many weeks, but eventually it caught up with him too. We both agreed that since I was on maternity leave (and could theoretically nap during the day), I would be on full baby duty on weeknights. One night at 4 a.m. when I realized that our daughter had yet another explosive diaper, I nearly broke down in tears. I stood there paralyzed, marveling at the mess. As I silently debated whether to start a bath or run away, Kevin appeared out of the darkness. My knight in shining armor. He took over cleaning up Rachel, and I went back to sleep. He could not have given me a better gift. No piece of jewelry, no trip to the Bahamas, nothing would have been more valuable.

There is one more vow that runs through all the others.

I promise to show you God’s love.

Every day in our marriage, I see the abstract beauty of love put into concrete action. The way we love one another, the very actions we do, reveal God’s love. Sometimes when it feels like God’s love for us is distant or hard to understand, it becomes easier when God shows up in our marriage. How better can I comprehend God’s promise to find us (Luke 15:4–7) than my experience of feeling lost in Shanghai and found at baggage claim? I understand how to trust Jesus (John 14:1) even though I don’t know what lies ahead, because of our travels and especially because of the bumps in the road. I have now seen how God can renew our strength (Isaiah 40:31), especially during difficult births, and that God intends for us to help each other (Matthew 25:44), especially when one is in need (or extremely sleep-deprived).

Perhaps these new vows about flat tires or dirty diapers aren’t beautiful or poetic, but the promises are real. And so is the love that is revealed every day.

Tiffany L. Tibbs lives in St. Louis, Missouri, with her husband and their two children. She attended Valparaiso University and obtained her Ph.D. from Washington University.
 

Wedding crashers
by Kate Sprutta Elliott

You receive the unmistakable envelope: a wedding invitation. You look to see who it sent it. What is your first response?

I have been a bridesmaid four times, a reader three times, a bride once, and a guest too many times to count. I have attended dozens of weddings: for cousins, siblings, high school chums, college pals, friends, and co-workers, not to mention the various weddings to which I was dragged by whomever I was dating at the time. I know what the response to a wedding invitation should be: joy for the couple, honor at being invited, and willingness to support the couple by prayer and presence.

It doesn’t always work that way.

No, don’t do it!
What do you do when the bride and groom seem seriously wrong for one another? Let’s say you’ve seen them argue in public and it turns nasty — fast. Perhaps you have reason to believe one of them is gay. (A friend told me that his bride should have suspected there might be a problem when he offered to make her wedding dress.)

Maybe you question whether these two people have the maturity to make such a commitment — they’re your good buds and you know how they party. They get drunk at every wedding reception, including their own.

Most of us have known couples who are so focused on the wedding — no, focused on the wedding reception — that they’ve lost sight of what it’s for. You want to say, “It’s about the marriage, people, not the centerpieces and appetizers and gift registry.” We joke about the stereotypical bridezilla, who always seems on the verge of a meltdown — or a blow-up — over some stupid detail. You think, “People are starving all over the world and you’re worried about the right shade of peach?!”

You don’t dare tell a friend that you think the person she wants to marry is wrong for her — you run the risk of alienating her forever (and you don’t score any points with her intended either). Even if later it turns out you were right and your friend remembers it, it will be a painful and embarrassing memory, at best.

A friend’s role is to be supportive, listen intentionally, and ask a lot of questions. The only way to talk someone out of a bad match is to let her talk herself out of it. And you never know; no one can really experience how two people are together in private and what deeply shared affection they have for one another. There are plenty of couples who are still together even though everyone around them thought they were doomed at the time. Sometimes the best you can do is to pray for the couple and keep an open mind.

It’s all about you
Sometimes the response you have to a wedding invitation has little to do with the couple. It’s about how you feel about your own life at the time. Have you been the person who has watched a steady stream of friends walk down the aisle in their big white dresses while you haven’t had a date in two years? And no prospects in sight?

If you feel lonely and dejected, it’s hard to rejoice with those who seem to have everything you want. It can remind you of your own fears — that you’ll never have that kind of happiness in a relationship, that you’ll never be loved that way. It can make you envious or bitter or depressed.

Years after a beautiful and profoundly Christian wedding, I was divorced. I often feel a twinge of melancholy at weddings. I know that all the stories don’t end happily ever after, even with the best intentions at the start. I know that sometimes people will disappoint one another and hurt one another and grow apart. I know that if you marry for better or for worse, the “worse” might be more than you can bear — violence or substance abuse or betrayal or mental illness.

When I go to weddings, I feel slightly sad for myself and slightly worried for the couple. As they get into that boat, even if the water is calm and it’s a sunny day, I know that there are storms and high winds and choppy water.

How do you manage the feelings that come up when you’re not in a good place personally, but you need to go — no, you want to go, these are your friends, remember — to a wedding?

In my experience, you acknowledge to yourself that you feel conflicted. Be honest. It’s understandable and you’re not a monster. And then you say to yourself, firmly (out loud if you have to), “It’s not about you.”

Ask God to give you a little distance and a generous spirit and a sense of humor. Then focus on the couple. Be present for your friends. Participate in the worship service as fully as you can. You are celebrating God’s gift of love. Your presence is blessing the couple and you are blessed by being there.

So chat up the relatives at the reception. Be a good sport about catching the bouquet or dancing with the kids or being seated next to the cranky old aunt. When you concentrate on the people around you, you forget yourself for a while. Remember, there’ll be cake.

Kate Sprutta Elliott is editor of Lutheran Woman Today magazine.

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