Eight weeks. It’s strange to consider how much my life has already changed. Decisions made in light of “us” and not “me.” And I haven’t even begun to experience the radical changes about to take place. I’m a little afraid to be honest. I hope I’m up to the task. I hope I can do a good job, be a good husband.
This is where my theology pipes in, “you can’t be. You’re a sinner. But God is gracious, and so is she.” Yes. That’s been the most amazing part of this relationship–realizing and experiencing how God’s grace can be filtered through another human being who loves and forgives and restores. I’ve learned more about the grace of God in the last 18 months than I have ever before. It’s an amazing thing. (Pun unintended.)
I’ve been reading a ton of marriage books. It’s funny, but that’s just how i am–whenever I’m nervous about something, whenever I am facing a new challenge, I’ll read everything I can get my hands on. It’s all theoretical, all mental, all preparatory–it could be completely meaningless once you get out of the classroom and “into the field” of marriage. But I know enough to know what I don’t know. So I read. Book after book.
I don’t know if I ever thought about what kind of married person I would be. You single folk know what i mean–when people get married, they fall into certain camps: the “obsessed with the spouse” camp, the “suddenly acting like a parent talking to singles like children” camp, the “never returns my calls” camp. (There are overlaps, of course.) There are different types of married people. I never really thought about what kind of married man I would be, how I would interact with my friends on the other side of the divide once I grabbed hold of the rope and swung. But here is my hope:
I’m going to be different than I was before–I’d be foolish to think otherwise. But I hope that the different I am is also better. My hope is that getting married will serve to help me be more understanding, more compassionate. more friendly. I hope that I never talk to my single friends like they’re children who aren’t old enough for “grown-up stuff” yet. Goodness, that’s insufferable, isn’t it? Don’t let me act like that, y’all.
I don’t want to lose touch with people when I get married, but honestly, it’s been happening for a year. There are several friends, people I love and admire, whom I haven’t laid eyes on since Houston had a hockey team. There are a few who I’ve intentionally distanced myself from, because i realized we had nothing left to say, nothing in common. It wasn’t hard feelings, just reality. (If you’re reading this, don’t worry, it’s not you.) The truth is, I think my social circle has been in a slow transitional period since maybe before I even started dating my fiancee. That’s just the way of things. So what I’m saying is, if we’re friends, let’s stay friends, but I ask you to understand that things will change a bit. However, I’ll do my best to be a good friend.
Maybe I’m making too much of this. How should I know? This is a huge, life-altering sequence of events for me, man.
So, here’s my question: Married folks–tell me about how life changed. Single folks–give me suggestions of how NOT to transition, based on what you’ve seen others do.