I am a college dropout*. I have fleeting moments of partial regret about this, but I have found the bigger reason I even remotely care is because I worry what people will think of me. I jumped off the conveyor belt. I skipped ahead in the plan that everyone else had pounded into my brain, “You graduate high school, and then you go to college.” It was as simple as that for so long. So, whenever the topic of marrying my boyfriend arose, I got a lot of negative feedback. “You’re too young! Finish school first,” was the overwhelming consensus.
I did not leave college for a boy. To go into my decision would unearth a lot of hurt feelings that I would not like to dwell on at the moment (but have touched on in previous posts). However, circumstances surrounding my legal status in the country needed to be addressed, since I would soon no longer be considered a minor in short order, and therefore would be unable to remain on the application for permanent residency under my parents (which had already been in the works for a few years). I was… And here I go, trying to justify to you why I chose to get married at nineteen. I should not care so much what other people think!
Truth be told, marrying Raymond was one of the best decisions I made as a teenager, if not the best. There was also the time thirteen-year-old me chose to swallow her pride and apologize to a friend she had hurt, after not speaking for an entire school year; she is my best friend today. Of course, that may not be saying a whole lot because my adolescence into adulthood was a smorgasbord of bad decision making. Two exceptional decisions about five years apart isn’t saying a whole lot, but I digress. The point I was endeavoring to make is that I do not regret marrying the man I still call my husband nearly ten years later. We have come a long way from the two nineteen-year-olds who exchanged vows before God, family and friends, one warm summer’s day in late August. In a small white church, situated in the equally small city of Wurtsboro, New York, we made a promise to one another and we did not make it lightly. Two choices we made then have done wonders in seeing us through the hard times. 1) We refused to accept divorce as an option. – It is amazing how quickly you stop fighting over something trivial, instead of blowing it out of proportion, when you realize that there are better things you could be doing together. It does not mean we do not fight, but arguments that end up in a shouting match are fewer and further between as we continue down this road together. 2) We established God as the foundation of our marriage. – He is an integral part of our lives as individuals, so it only makes sense that He is the sustaining force in our relationship with one another. And we can tell when our focus shifts from Him, because it directly impacts our relationships and personal well-being.
“Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.”
~Ecclesiastes 4:12 (NIV)~
Lord-willing, we will renew our vows for our twentieth wedding anniversary. We would also like to go on a second honeymoon. I am sure that in the history of honeymoons, ours was not the worst, but it certainly was memorable for all the wrong reasons. Raymond booked a special room for us months in advance, but when we arrived, they only had one of those special rooms left. Get this, it was across from the pool, next to the ice machine, on the first floor, around the corner from the lobby and shared a door with the room next to us. Without going to into too much blush-worthy detail, I will simply say that two virgins were a little daunted by the couple on the other side of that door who sounded like they sure knew what they were doing…And the cigarette smoke that wafted underneath the door afterward was the icing on the cake.
I also managed to spill sparkling grape juice all over my wedding dress** and the white bedding, because when I make a mess, I don’t make it half-heartedly. I wasn’t sure whether to be consoled or disgusted when we told the woman at the front desk and she laughed, “Oh don’t worry! We’ve had to clean up all sorts of messes.”
Our “honeymoon” lasted two nights, but by the time we got back to the hotel that second night, we were too tired to even care that we had been moved to another room devoid of noisy neighbors. We slept, were picked up early by my father-in-law, driven to the airport, and boarded a plane for our new home in Florida. Things were much simpler then. It was just the two of us in a two-bedroom apartment in what was lovingly dubbed “the hood” by friends and family.
We did not have a car, so we relied on our legs or bicycles to get around Merritt Island. While we received much of what we needed as wedding gifts, there were some things we did not even think of when compiling a registry, like an ironing board. Imagine our delight as newlyweds on a budget, when we spotted an ironing board for two dollars at Goodwill. Awesome! Now to get it home…on our bikes. Always the better problem solver of the pair, Raymond rested the ironing board across his handle bars and we began our cautious ride home. It was going surprisingly well, until we happened upon the spot on the sidewalk that narrows and has a railing on either side. The ironing board hit against posts on either side, causing an abrupt stop. Raymond fell over. I was unaccustomed to hand brakes, so I turned to see him buried underneath a bike and ironing board, but could not stop in time and ran right into him before falling on top of him as well, bike and all. We still get a good laugh out of that one, imagining the show we just provided to the numerous people driving by.
After two years in that apartment, we decided it was time to find a safer neighborhood to start a family in. We were told we were supposed to rent a slightly better apartment first, then maybe buy a house. We bought a house. I think we are both just a little stubborn. It served us well, though. I loved that house. We had visions of raising our kids within its walls. Then those walls started to talk; not literally, of course, but it sure felt like they were crying for help. We were buried in repairs! Still, it was employment that caused us to move again, not the house.
Two babies, and six more moves later (not including the month and a half we lived in a hotel), I am grateful that no matter where we end up, Raymond is still the one by my side. When I have been in the hospital writhing in pain (which has been more than once), he is the one sitting by the bed, holding my hand. He was right by my side during my c-section, peering at me over his mask, his eyes lovingly saying, “It’s okay.” When my loved ones have passed away, he wraps me up in his arms and lets me cry, even though it results in a tear-soaked shirt.
Raymond is the first person I mourn with and the first person I rejoice with. He has the potential to push all of my buttons, like a child messing with the panel in an elevator. He knows how to lift me up and tear me down, but chooses more often than not to build me up. He can make me laugh like no one else can and still wants to be with me, despite the dying seal laugh that sometimes elicits from me. He keeps me motivated. He is sometimes tactless but always truthful. If he says I look amazing, I know he really thinks so.
Ten years…We are approaching our ten year anniversary. I know that the time will get away from me, so I am reflecting on it now. I love that man. I love the two kids we have been blessed with; our little girl and our little boy. It is not possible to succinctly sum up all of our ten years in a way that I feel aptly displays what it has been to me. But I meant it when I said that marrying Raymond was one of the best decisions I have made.
* For the record, college could be the best choice for some people. I am not knocking college (as I said, my reasons for leaving were numerous). It wasn’t the point of my post, so I didn’t go there. 🙂
** God bless my mother, who managed to get that grape stain out of my dress several years after the fact!
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