Here are 7 thoughts that, if we really understood them, could transform your marriage.

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**Gag Me/Cheesy Romance WARNING** Easter 2001. Shy, quiet Claire Bischof decided to “boldly” express her interest in much more popular and cool, Aaron Sylvester by leaving an Easter basket for him to find by his car with an immature love note that read, “Happy Easter Hottie!” Up til that point she had only hid from Aaron in school bathrooms and about died with embarrassment when he stopped by her classes to wave and leave flirty notes that read, “Only open if you are the most beautiful girl in school.” She didn’t hear much from Aaron since she left that stupid Easter basket. She figured he thought it was lame and that he remembered what a weird girl she was. (OK, let’s lose the third person narrative.) May Day 2001. I was shocked and on cloud nine when Aaron rang my door bell before school. He drove off before I could see him but he left something on my door step… a May Day basket that had a note saying, “Happy May Day, Hottie!” We started officially dating two days later. It has been a tradition ever since to exchange Easter and May Day baskets : ) We had to leave the house early this morning and the thought of it being May 1st was the farthest thing from my mind as I rushed to get kids ready. So I was a bit stressed and annoyed when I heard crazy knocking and ringing at the door. I thought it was the girls messing around and yelled, “Cut it out!!” I ran to the door to find a May Day basket filled with the most thoughtful little treats and my sweet hubby driving down the road in his sprayer, giving me the love sign. 12 years later and he still captures my heart. There’s got to be a moral to this story so that it’s not just me bragging. SO… Ladies, be bold enough to express your love and gentlemen, never stop dating your wife! : )

 I’ve been a grumpy, moody, mean bean today. Yet Aaron still washed my favorite Starbucks mug and started my car for me. “Your carriage awaits,” he said. I’ve been short tempered with the kids and he gently asked me if I am alright. Truth be told, I’m not. Sometimes life simply gets to us all and we have down days. I try to always be positive but I am human. I also always try to be real. I’m so thankful for a husband that is understanding and leads me to joy again. I love you, Aaron Sylvester.

Answer: we shared the same hotel in Jacksonville this past weekend.

  There’s nothing quite like a seeing a hundred bodybuilders come walking past the registration table on Friday night.  Women, men, teens and families who participate in the sport strolled by as Jessica and I waited on the couples coming in to register for the weekend.  I smiled, said hello and tried not to intimidate them before their competition with my own physique. I wouldn’t want to see any of the competitors self-esteem hindered by my presence.

 It did however, serve as a reminder that my last New Year’s Resolution to get back in shape had been shoved in the back of the closet with several other goals, dreams and hobbies. Have you ever stood in a lobby for three hours while sucking in your gut?  It’s a difficult thing to do! I think I pulled my ab.

(Yes, I just have one.)

 All joking aside, having the bodybuilders at the hotel with us sent my thoughts spiraling in two different directions. 

The first was how much effort and time and passion you must have for the sport of bodybuilding to get into the type of shape that these competitors were in.  Imagine if we put that much time and effort and passion into our marriages. Our marriage has the possibility of being in tip top condition, much like the bodies of the competitors we saw that day.  If we are as intentional and focused on our marriage as these bodybuilders are on their bodies, our marriage would be the thing that turns heads when we walk into a room.

It would be the thing people point to when asked, “What’s your New Year’s Resolution?” Imagine someone saying “I want a marriage like that” instead of “I want a body like that.”  These competitors rarely let a day go by without working on their physique: they eat the right food, they get the right amount of exercise, and they get the right amount of rest.  What if we made sure a day didn’t go by without feeding our spouse the right compliments, exercising our marriage muscles by serving one another, and resting in each other’s company?  

Secondly, my thoughts took another turn when one competitor, by himself, walked by and said to Jessica, “Where were you when I needed you?”  If you’re expending all your energy and time and goals on yourself, what do you have left for your spouse? 

 I’m changing. It feels like parts of me are being chiseled away. Parts that never needed to be there to begin with. Tragedy has a way of creating new life. When you find yourself just a touch away from death, the world seems less complicated and some of the worries of life seem so humorous now. I have more patience for the hurting but less patience for the fake. Old counter tops and dirty carpets don’t bother me now. Dishes and dirt are somehow beautiful now. Empty words and things that will fade away don’t cloud my path to living more fully. I will never impress the masses. I will always be me and I will love like it will never hurt. Because when it does hurt then it’s truer love. No one can keep me from singing. And though my body has more curves than a country road, I’ll dance when I need to . Yes, need to. And when I am quiet it’s not because I’m rude, it’s because I’m me and quiet is sometimes the sweetest sound to my busy ears. I will always keep my babies close and teach them the things that the creator of the stars whispers in my heart. I won’t give one care to the haters who tell me it’s not the way. That part of me was chiseled away when death was stained on my hands as I stroked his hair wondering if this was goodbye. But death didn’t come that day. He passed by and whispered Life. New life is me and I don’t expect you to understand. But just know this is the beginning and not the end.

Practice. Practice. Practice.

We did it. 

Crossed one of the biggies off our list. 

Bought THE dress.

But it wasn’t an easy task. No, it took many days and more than 500 miles. Bethany and Jen (her future mother-in-law) made the trek from Ohio to Michigan to shop here.  One of the first dresses she tried on in an exclusive bridal shop near our home was the piece d’resistance and set the bar high for all other dresses: an A-line bodice of full lace, sweetheart strapless neckline with soft folds of delicately jeweled lace creating the perfect fit for a princess. Sounds beautiful, no?

The only problem was the price tag.  Not an exorbitant price tag for such a beautiful dress, but certainly out of line for the budget of practical parents who sometimes forget the dreams of a little girl in favor of such things as a checkbook balance. 

Needless to say, we kept looking.  Well, not so much “we” as “she”—Bethany logged in about 40 dresses off and back on the hanger in the search for a dress as delicate and beautiful (and more in the “budget”) as the one she first tried on at the bridal shop in Michigan. When she had located a very similar dress in a shop near her university, we planned a long weekend and I made the drive to Ohio to shop with Bethany and Jen. 

However, even that dress wasn’t THE dress for very long. We didn’t buy that dress in Canton because she wanted her sister, Mary, and her dad to see it. Right when the appointment was made and the trip was planned, a last minute suggestion from my good friend Beth sent us to a bridal shop near our old house in Ohio. The idea was simple: try on a few more dresses just to confirm Bethany’s choice as being The Dress. As often happens, our best-laid plans were changed when, to our surprise, we found THE Dress: a gorgeous wedding dress that most resembled her dream gown and was at an unbelievable price. It would be perfect!

Except…

…the dress isn’t white.  It’s ivory—no, champagne.  Do I need to say much more about this?  Isn’t white the only acceptable color for a young bride to wear on the day that, in front of God, many witnesses, and a wedding photographer, she vows her faithfulness and everlasting love to her groom?  Isn’t white the symbol of purity in a young bride?  Isn’t white what I, my sisters, my mom, and everyone else I knew wore on our respective wedding days? Never mind whether we were “qualified” to wear white.  We wore it!

But a white wedding dress is no more a guarantee of chasteness than a purity ring is of purity.  There is nothing magical in the dress that makes the bride chaste, nothing mysterious that makes the wearer of a purity ring pure.  Nothing except a decision made when a young girl is young enough to choose to remain a virgin until she says, “I do.”  A decision that is made real each time she is tempted.  A decision that is made real each time the opportunity presents itself.  A decision that is made real each time she chooses to honor her choice. 

And so, we bought the dress.  She will wear it proudly, honestly, and beautifully. 

For your beauty (and purity) should not come from outward adornment (or white dresses).  Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit (and a decision to remain pure), which is of great worth in God’s sight.*

   *Judy Pyper paraphrase edition

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