Us

He was so nice.  He smiled down at me, jumped up and bounded down a few steps to introduce himself and shake my hand. 

I was twenty-two, full of myself and taken back by his friendliness.  I had just returned from my excursion in Colorado and was moving into my mother’s apartment.  She lived downstairs and he lived upstairs.  I can’t remember my disposition to him, knowing what and who I was back then- I’m sure I was friendly enough, but my sincerity would've been skin deep and I’m sure there was coldness to my response.  But he was Marc and he didn’t care. He’d be charming and friendly despite me.

I lived downstairs for nearly a year. We didn’t hit it right off.  I was loud, brash, reckless and wild with my youth.  I was vain and did foolish things I don’t dare or care to confess this go around for a story.  This story is about Marc, not my dark and sordid tale of how I spent my teens and twenties. 

This is our love story and how I never could or would stay away from my best friend.

After nearly a year, we did spend a few evening out with friends together, enough so the ice was broken and we at least had more then one passing conversation.  In honesty, I had developed a small crush on my upstairs neighbor, but I didn’t pay much attention to it.  Mostly, I hated his loud, screaming music.  I thought his friends seemed immature and obnoxious when they’d visit (although, in time, I grew to adore and love most of them) and I probably, actually, frankly thought there was someone out there better for me.

Boy, was I wrong. God knew the truth. I wasn't too good for Marc, he would be too good for me. But he’d love me anyways.

I remember being angry and drunk.  I remember feeling alone and mad at my life.  It was two am. I was sitting by myself in my apartment and I thought I heard movement in the upstairs apartment. Maybe he’s up, I thought.  I stumbled upstairs and knocked on the door. I didn’t know what I thought I’d say or how he’d react to me standing there, but he answered.

And this is my line.

“Can I come inside and watch some anime with you?” 

Yep, that what I said. 

He smirked at me, “Um, sure.”

Marc and I weren't Christians. We didn’t make good decisions. I spare you details of what sort of lives we had lived.  Let’s leave it at this- I’m sure Marc was thinking it was his lucky night to have his drunken neighbor come up to his apartment so late.  I didn’t know what I was thinking; I just knew I didn’t want to be alone. I sat on his floor and he started the movie.  He was sitting on his bed; I was lying on the floor with a pillow. And that was the end of me that night; dead asleep, probably snoring.  I’m sure Marc fell asleep thinking, “What was that?”

I woke in the morning and went home. And that was the first night of us.  So a few days meander on…..

It was sunny and crisp outside. I was probably hung-over, but I enjoyed being up early. I was hanging out my wash when Marc came home from his night out.  We talked for a bit and he asked me to breakfast with him.  We walked to the Coach House Restaurant. I watched Marc consume large quantities of chocolate chip pancakes and bacon. It made me feel sick just watching it, but he was so nice. And this started our history.

We had our honeymoon period. We spent countless days together, we laughed a lot, we camped all the time, we had our wild nights together- spending too much money and drinking ourselves into stupid memories. Marc thought I had a spontaneous side, as one night he looked at me and said, “Hey, there’s a show in Boston, let’s go now!”  And I said, “Sure!”  We hoped in my ’94 Chevy Z24 and found ourselves in Boston having a blast. We camped out on the side of the road on the way home; cops came by in the morning to tell us we needed to be on our way (ah, memories!).

Yeah, it takes time to get to know someone. Marc learned, I’m not spontaneous at all. I’m barely adventurous and I have nervous breakdowns if my life has no routine.  But he loves me anyways.

Marc and I were wild and selfish.  We were both immersed in a culture of alcohol and wild nights.  We handled each other’s personalities and differences terribly.  We could be cutting and cruel to one another.  We were young, immature and defiantly independent.  We had worldly views that skewed our thinking “Me first, then maybe you.”  We misunderstood love as a feeling, not the act of sacrificing.  We split up several times, both us engaging into destructive patterns at times and making painful choices that should have destroyed any chances of renewal, let alone even friendship.

But at the heart of each of us, the idea of not having each other always proved to be too painful. That was unbearable.  Through tough times, long break ups and miserable memories; somehow, we held on to the friendship. It like knowing you can’t let go of family, our love was blood to us- necessary for our life.  Between the hard times, we had genuine and honest times. We knew how to have fun with each other, we knew how to listen to one another and though we struggled, we knew how to care for each other.  We poured ourselves into each other, so when the bad times struck (and boy did they strike)- the work we had done wasn't lost.  At times, we may have lost the romance or physical side of ourselves, but at the heart of it- the friendship was strong and survived.  And you’re darn right I have thanked and thanked and thanked God for that. I won’t share Marc and I tumultuous times.  They were painful, wrong and nasty.  They’re our memories- we've forgiven them and let them go- and in the past is where they belong. They did nothing for us then, and they’ll do nothing for us now.

The road to us has been long with a lot of crazy, but a lot of beautiful too. The worst of the years were behind us as we pushed into fifth and sixth year, we settled into a groove of being us.  We married in 2006 and I’d love to share a great proposal story with you- but I think it goes something like me telling Marc I was planning a wedding and Marc say “Ok, sounds good!”  It was just us, flowing with life with me in control doing my will and my way- Marc just being himself- loving me and letting me do my thing.  My thing- rarely was there stopping it. I did what I wanted, when I wanted and however I wanted.  I loved Marc, sure. I loved our marriage, sure. But I loved me more.  After all, aren't I suppose to? Isn't that what our culture teaches over and over and over. Love yourself, love yourself, love yourself- so I did.  Some would argue that my behavior and decisions are a reflection of how I didn’t love myself- being that destructive and abusing alcohol at times- I didn’t love myself enough and therefore made bad choices for me. That’s a bunch of crap. I just flat out refuse to shovel in spoonful of that garbage. And if you feel like debating, I’ll spare you some wasted time- I won’t.  I loved myself just fine, therefore I didn’t love Marc properly or our marriage properly.  But God would change that. And change it in a blink of an eye- or as fast as a simple prayer.

I had a bad night. A night I don’t really talk about, but I drove home to Marc at 5am.  My father had invited me to church the day before and I said I’d go. I wanted to go, and I’m not even sure why, but it had been pressing on me a lot back then.  I still justified myself a lot and certainly held on to a lot of wrong views of what I should be as a good person, a good wife and have a good marriage.  Humility has never come easily to me, so when God needs to teach me a lesson on learning his righteousness- typically he’s got to beat it in me a bit-I’m a stupid learner.  But he was about to save not just me, but Marc and our marriage.

I drove home and Marc heard me say what I had said a trillion times before, “I’m not drinking anymore.”  But he didn’t realize I meant it (heck, I didn’t realize). He didn’t know God was about to bless my life and take away evil from it.  I went to church that morning and life as I had lived it for 31 years died.  I went to church and heard God. I didn’t respond to Him immediately. I was still a controlling and self-loving worldly girl. But I started to hear Him.  And I wanted more of Him, despite my defenses and despite my justifications and anger- I suddenly wanted Him.  I’d be mad about what I’d hear at times, because it cut me to the core and I had to acknowledge some damning truths that I simply never faced before.  But I committed to study, committed to Church and I committed to not walking away from God without giving Him his fair shake at me. After a few weeks I was broken down, hadn't touched a drop of that evil drink and was desperate for God to change me. I found myself just on my knees confessing it all out loud and begging for Christ to forgive me and take over. He did. God answers.

Where was Marc? Well, he was sitting back and watching me. He saw me changing, it may have even scared him a bit- this wasn't the Jen he’d known for so long. He humored me in it, but later confessed to me that he had been thinking about divorcing me. To put it bluntly, he didn’t sign up for being married to a “Jesus freak”. But he’s Marc and he loves me anyways.

Out of whatever sort of love and support he had for me, Marc started to go to church with me. He started to listen too and he started to hear from God. He couldn't believe it. How does an atheist hear from God? He didn’t get it. He had doubts, lots. But you know, when God calls you- it’s sort of tough to turn back. And God was calling Marc.  He met with a pastor, who guided him and was patient with Marc’s doubts and questions.  And before I knew it, my Marc was the Jesus Freak. Amen!

It took us time. I had to learn to unlearn myself. I had to shed the control, the brashness. I had to learn that I wasn't righteous and submitting. I had to learn that this word love we say so much, has little do with feelings and all to do with submitting and sacrifice. I use to think submit was losing myself. I didn’t realize submitting was an act of loving, simply saying I trust you and know you love me- so therefore, here is my heart- I submit it to you. I didn’t realize it was a gift.

God build our marriage new. Marc and I learned to give up on the evils, sin and world that had damaged us for so long and give into the Word of God. And our lives were blessed for it. We grew strong and the tumultuous years of our youth became like recalling a bad novel you read eons ago- you have a faint memory of it with bits and pieces, but overall, you don’t recall it and it wasn't worth remembering anyhow.  The thing that had held us together for years, our friendship became the root of what makes us, us!

Marc has always been nice. He’s always smiled at me, mostly given me my way. He’s never given up on me, even when he should have and no one would've blamed him.  He’s held my head in bad moments; he’s held my hand in blessed memories. He’s driven across the country with me. He’s taken his time to get to know and care about who I’d turn out to be. He’s helped shape my world and cultivate my personality.  He’s loved me and shown me how beautiful I am to him when I’m at my worst and feeling pitifully low.  He’s listened to me scream and seen my face distort with anger and rage. He sat there and been my friend. He’s left me at times, when I needed to be left- but he always came back to me. 

Genesis 2:23

The man said,

“This is now bone of my bones
    and flesh of my flesh;
she shall be called ‘woman,’
    for she was taken out of man.”

One flesh, this world might scoff at the idea of this. Melding two into each other creating one flesh simply doesn't fit. It may look for the individualism, the self-identity and the self-love. It may say “Don’t lose yourself in someone else” “Hold on to who you are.”

Well, I know who I am, I love myself just fine and as far as my identity, I have this to say- You take away Marc- you no longer have Jen. I would be someone else. I don’t want to be someone else. I like this me, for Marc is the very best part of who I am. 

Sharing a poem I wrote for Marc about 5 years ago or so, when we were first saved.  

Marc

Love

To re-define, dirty words changed to become amazing

Submit

I saw bondage, destruction, I saw the lose of self

I saw wrong

Love, is nothing short of the glory of submitting

I trust 

My God

My Faith

My ability to break bondage

To overcome destruction

Realize, it was never about “self” You can not have “self” and have Love

The lighted path come from death of “self”

            The “me” of it all led to him not worth a name,

            Glorifying self simply means deception of Grace, 

                 It’s a cheat,

                      Its bad journey on such a beautiful moment.

           

Can’t you cry? 

     Can’t you just die? 

He did

            Humbly, patiently, heart broken.  

He ripped open the beautiful moment, pouring    

     His blood over the likes of us.

And through Mercy, We are here.  

Right here, unworthy and so small

I have become US

One flesh

I love

I submit

I trust

YOU

You are my husband, I adore

God cleansed me to see

I belong on my knees

I belong bent and backwards

My will was silly and trite, 

     Full of contempt and drunken hell

          My will was the end of us.

God broke me to open my eyes, This is how you love.

He lifted my sight, 

     Showed me him through the love of you.