To My Something Blue

Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue…

b2There is a girl with blue hair, blue eyes and a sometimes-blue soul who has always dreamed of living in a house with a blue door.

She loves her mother, her friends and songs for sopranos.

She hates harsh words, loneliness and April 24th.

Tomorrow is April 24th, and I couldn’t help but want to make it a little bit better for her.

So I will tell you why this girl is lovely. Why the world is better off with her in it. I’ll do that with a little story from not so long ago.

For a few years now, I’ve noticed strange things happen when a wedding is on the horizon. There is joy and happiness, squeals and winks and presents and hugs. There is also sometimes bitter-sweet talk, sadness and worst of all jealousy. Single friends sad to be losing another single friend to impending matrimony. Single ladies in particular feeling a prick of jealousy that their turn has not yet arrived. Sometimes even spite thrown from family members as one person or another clings bitterly to the past, disheartened to watch one of their own leave and cleave. There can be an ache brought on by the conflict of, “I’m happy for you but sad for me.”

The unfortunate truth is, when two people find true love (yes, twue wuv), some build that love up and others poke and prod at it for their own gain. This is the human condition.

In planning for my own wedding, it has been made clear to me that there is nothing new under the sun. Some rejoice in selflessness. Others, the opposite.

In light of all this, I must admit I was nervous to talk about my relationship to my lovely Something Blue. Her and I have been single together, not-so-single together, and burnt and bruised together. Things always seemed to line up so we could relate in real time, and we were always there to encourage one another in hope and strength.

Now picture February. I am newly engaged. My dear friend, the little Something Blue, is talking to me from across the state about the hurt in her heart over boys and loss and loneliness and all the things life tends to throw at us. As I comfort my friend, I fear that it will add to her sting that I now have what she someday wants.

bbBut then she says this, “I know this sounds weird since it’s your wedding, not mine, but it makes everything so much better that you’re getting married. I’m just so happy for you, that it makes me feel less sad.”

I don’t recall exactly how I thanked her then, but this is how I’m thanking her now:


Dear little Something Blue,

That. Is love.

It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking…” (1 Corinthians 13:4,5) Love is powerful to a degree that is humbling. 

I am humbled that there are souls who are so loving that merely the happiness of another would ease their pain.

You, little Blue, have a better grasp on love than so many of those who claim to know it so well.

b4It is sad that you are often treated with less than the kindness you show others, but do not let the darkness of the world overtake you.

For my wedding day, I am told I should have something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. You are the best something blue I could ask for.

Please sing for us. Celebrate with us. Join in every bit of joy and thanksgiving because it is meant to be shared.

And remember every day that all of us are so blessed that you are here. Blessed that you still sing, and laugh, and love. Blessed that you can smile and hug your sweet mother and make breakfast with your family on April 24th.

There are those of us who see you for who you really are and love you immeasurably for it. I hope that someday, you see what we see.

Until then, I will never stop praying that you do.

See you in June.

Sincerely,

Kira

bandme2 bandme

 

P.S.
You can still be my something blue even when your hair goes back to brown.
😉


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On Meeting my Future Husband

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On Sunday, October 26, I was mildly uncomfortable at the sight of the man who will soon be my husband. We were separated by a crowd of church-goers milling about in the Student Union Building. He had asked me out the week prior and our first date was in a couple of days. Although we had known of each other for years, I had only had a couple of brief conversations with him. From a ways off I could surmise a few things. He was hairy. So hairy. And tall. His face looked stern and his eyes were so large and dark it was, at least at that exact second, intimidating.

I insisted to myself that it was no big deal if he was interesting or boring, tall or short, hairy or bald. After all we were just grabbing coffee. I was confidant that I could spend an hour of my time with just about anyone on the planet. This boy would be no exception. But then I had the shocking realization that sometimes coffee dates lead to more coffee dates… which can lead to “dating” which can lead to having a boyfriend which can lead to having a husband?!

“Oh-no!…” I thought as I dared glance again at the sullen looking stranger.

A tightness grew in my chest that tends to grip me just before it becomes difficult to breath. I wanted to cry. What a dreadful realization to think you’ll have to marry someone who is nothing more to you than an acquaintance with very thick eyebrows!

Then I realized this was completely ridiculous. Obviously. So the feeling faded as quickly as it came.

“Perfect,” my mind nodded in response to its own voice of reason, “I will have a nice conversation with a nice boy and won’t even have to think about marrying anyone for a very long time. Just coffee…. I like that. Just coffee.”

Suddenly, I felt completely at ease.

I’m glad that who I was in that moment had no idea she would be engaged by February. I’m even more glad that who I am now knows that getting engaged to that big-eyed hairy man is the best earthly decision I’ve ever made.

However, if I had found out amid my pre-panic-attack that I would marry him, here’s what present me would have told October me:

20150318-115344.jpgFirst off, we both know those unreasonably large brown eyes are awesome. Don’t even pretend you don’t like them.

And yeah, he’s hairy, but you’ll learn to love that big mop on his head. Even after he finally cuts it off, you wouldn’t mind if he grew it back all over again.

It’s actually a good thing that he seems to be the size of a tree to you. That means you can climb him like a koala bear at any given moment. It’s pretty fun and he won’t even think you’re strange.

Don’t be tricked into thinking he’s all that serious. He’s actually a goof. He will laugh with you about anything from silly and sweet to blatantly crass. Which reminds me, he’s not a legalistic bore and thinks all the things you used to get scolded for are cute. You know… “naughty” words, tight skirts, passionate outbursts. They’re his favorite when it comes to you.

Don’t think he’s stern. He has the warmest heart of anyone you’ve ever met. When you are selfish and unreasonable, he will be patient and kind. When you are rigid towards him, he will be soft towards you. More often than not, he’ll be the one teaching you how to be more sensitive.

20150318-164316.jpgTurns out, you were right the first time you met him when you were sixteen. Remember? You thought he was cute. You noticed his kind heart. You liked that he was nerdy. You hoped, almost expected, that someday, a ways down the road, you’d marry him. Even when you dutifully brushed the thought aside, it didn’t frighten you. It felt like your own little secret, knowing that the two of you would be perfect together.

Right now, you’re too frightened by life to notice, but that’s okay. It’s his little secret now and he knows it better than you ever did. He’ll patiently adore you until you figure it out:

The two of you will be perfect together.