Pudding, Wallets, and Mornings

Today I am feeling sappy. Have you ever tasted tree sap? Not syrup...just straight up sap? It tastes like life.

Yesterday, all day long, I craved pudding. I think this might be because I am a sucker for advertisements, and I saw a pudding commercial. And last night, when I came home, Phil had bought me some pudding. There it was, just sitting in the fridge: delicious and surprising. Today, I was at the library and I forgot my wallet. This means that I could not buy lunch or check out any books. As I stepped out of the library to walk home to get it (in flats with no socks...why do I do this to myself?), I got a message on my cell phone from Phil, who had already delivered my wallet to the library. He put it in my bag while I was away getting some books. So, I went back into the warm library and sure enough, there it was in my bag. And every morning when I wake up--there's Phil. Just right there. I still think that this is amazing, that he is there every morning, and every day, no matter how busy it's been, there is Phil at the end of it.

To be honest, I was never really big on the idea of marriage. I am pretty much what one might call a "feminist." I can take care of myself. In fact, for much of my life I would rather have. Wives submitting to husbands never sounded that great to me, even when I was assured that it was a double-sided coin: men must love their wives as Christ loves the Church. Because, let's be honest, how often does that happen? So I just had this picture like, I'd be dragging around some guy, pretending to be "obedient," trying to find ways to maintain myself in the midst of our "oneness" that would pretty much just be his "hisness."

I met Phil though, and it made a lot more sense, and it continues to make sense the longer we are married. I was disappointed, within those first weeks of marriage, that this magical "oneness" did not just happen. I am now relieved to find it is a process: that we succeed, and then we fail, and then we learn, we cry, we grow. I was shocked in the beginning, at the normalcy of it all...that all the anticipation of finally being together so quickly faded into everyday life. Yep, there's Phil again. But at the same time, there are those moments when I look at him and have to look again. That's Phil. That's the man I love. That's Phil from camp, Phil who is so talented, Phil who has impressed me, intrigued me, challenged me, taken care of me, and loved me so well. That's my husband and he's right here? Mine?

And this process of loving and submitting makes so much more sense in this context. That, like God himself, we are individuals, and yet we are one. Like a woven tapestry or a braid, we maintain our selves, but sometimes one moves back and allows the other to come forward. In this rhythm of submitting and leading, respecting and acting, believing and doing, encouraging and shining, we become "one." And in this oneness we become so much more than simply the sum of our selves.

In short, I love Phil Larson, and I cannot comprehend the majesty of the God who created him, the love between us, or love in general.