Ending the Silence

I’ve been silent.

Unsure of where to go, how to write, what to write.

I have spent the past few years exposing my ugly truths, feelings, experiences about the pain of my singleness… and now I’m just like most other 30-year-olds: married. Boring. 

I have written about my broken heart, my crazy episodes, my thoughts concerning somewhat controversial things… and lately I’ve just felt at a dead end, with nothing new to write about. Because, while marriage certainly isn’t the end goal…I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel more whole now.

I’ve survived 15 whole days as a Mrs. and while I’m sure I’m in the midst of the “honeymoon stage”, life suddenly feels a lot more like it should.

Can I tell you a little about my wedding?

Can I tell you a little about the days right beforehand?

I wasn’t aware that the days leading up to my wedding would be so filled with people, tasks, things… and that I wouldn’t really get a chance to spend much quality time with my husband-to-be. As more people arrived, and as the big day grew closer, the less time we got together. Occasionally I thought, “What is happening?! And why is it happening so quickly?!”

I was overwhelmed by the people. Overwhelmed in a good way. People just came. From all over the country, they came. They sacrificed time and money to be there. They drove long distances. They left their babies. They took time off of work. They woke up early and stayed up late. It cost them all something. No “Thank You” note can ever repay them…no words will ever do it justice. I often got a bit watery-eyed as I humbly acknowledged again and again that they were here just for us. 

On our wedding eve, we, like most folk, had our rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. Our rehearsal dinner was filled with words of goodness as we tried to thank people for their kindness and support. What caught me off guard, however, were the words others spoke about us. While I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I wanted to marry this man, that night was filled with even more affirmation as man after man stood up to testify of my future husband’s impact in their life. One groomsmen let these 60+ people know that the man I was marrying was a man of action. A man who sits at a table and discusses how he ought to be different and then actually seeks to make that change happen. A man who truly applies Scripture to his life, a man who longs to be radically changed by the gospel.

I got to marry that man the next day.

I’m quite sure I wept the entire time down the aisle (and fortunately my dress was equipped with pockets to store away tissue).

I don’t know how I got here.

I didn’t do anything “right”.

I didn’t do anything to “deserve” a man that exceeds my wildest dreams.

I didn’t wait well…and I certainly didn’t wait patiently.

I kicked and screamed and pleaded with the Lord over and over again that He might take this desire from me. I tried taking things into my own hands too many times. I tried waiting, for at least a few seconds at a time, until I freaked out again. And again. And again. 

But here I am.

Married.

We’re 15 days in, and it’s still so good. It’s so fun. It’s exactly as it should be. And not because in marriage my purpose is complete… but because in marriage, I’m being constantly sharpened and challenged to be more of who the Lord has created me to be. In marriage, I now have a man who doesn’t just write or talk about how he wants to be different… I have a man who makes the effort to actually be different.

How could I not feel more whole?

How could I not feel blessed?

How could I not feel humbled by the Lord’s goodness in my life as He continually gives more than I could ever deserve?

I’m going to continue to write—hopefully more frequently again. Not because I have anything worth reading. Not because I stand a chance at becoming anyone famous. Not because my story is unique or challenging.

But, because I still believe in second chances. I still believe in hope. I still believe in a God who redeems the unredeemable and a Savior who has paid it all.

And so I’m ending the silence.