a pretty day

This morning, my husband asked me to marry him. Down on one knee, looking into my eyes, and holding my hands in his.

To some, this may seem strange. In fact, to many, this may seem like an odd question for him to ask me. We've been through quite an upheaval lately, with so many roots and causes, but, bottom line we'd let our selves go a bit. Our true selves. Somewhere along the line, with four kids, two dogs, five jobs, the death of two parents, and countless volunteer obligations, we managed to lose sight of the simplest of tenets of a healthy relationship: we stopped talking with our hearts. Sure, we spoke to each other, shared some news, some hopes and dreams, some fears, but the time to open up and share the tough subjects kept slipping away.

We'd argue about that from time to time. And there were certainly times when we caught ourselves sharing the thoughts we most feared sharing. Over the past few weeks, we have rediscovered the intimacy that comes from heart talking. More than anything, what we have learned is that the more we talk, the more we want to talk. And the more we want to talk, the more in love we fall. In all honesty, it feels, for both of us, like the first time we've ever been in love. And it's such a wonderful, refreshing feeling.

About a year ago, I read something about staying married being a daily choice. It resonated with me. I remember, too, that at the time, when I shared that thought with my husband, he balked. He said that being married just is, and we were already married, so there was no choice to be made. He thought it was silly. Still, to me, the idea that each morning I should make a choice in how I lived, that I could decide each morning, when I looked in the mirror, whether I would be a married woman, or someone else. Since that day, I have overwhelmingly chosen married woman. And the result has been overwhelming, too.

Not long ago, my husband asked how I got through those days when I have doubts--about being a mother, being myself, being in love. There are so many times when I have those doubts; those nagging feelings that I'm not doing my best, that what I'm doing is either not right or not appreciated, even the times when I wonder if I really love being a mom, being me, or even if I really love him. The simple answer is, "I do." I do love my role, my vocation, and my husband. I really do--I stood in front of a whole bunch of people 21 years ago and said so, after all! In response to his confused look, I responded,

"When I wonder, when I doubt, especially our love, and I have a hard time coming up with a reason that I fell in love, I ask myself, 'Do I love him?' And the answer is always, 'Yes, I do. I do.' And when I tell myself I do, I then begin to remember the little things--the special look, the conversations, the laughter, the tears--and I remember why I love him. The doubts fade away, as they should."

Since that day, I've managed to avoid most of the doubts entirely, but I know that is likely because of all the talking we've been doing. When school starts, and the secondary jobs pick up again, and the craziness of parenting pulls us in many directions at once, they may return once in a while. I'm fairly certain, as long as we make time for conversation--deep hearted, true sharing--the frequency will decrease. We've found what we've been missing, and, honestly, we can't bear to let it go. Ever again.

I said yes.