Adeste fideles

Yesterday, G left on his surprise post-birthday trip to Utah. I have to say I was so excited it all came together for this well-deserved, long overdue adventure.  After Christmas I contacted a handful of his best buddies from high school to see if they'd be willing to meet up in Park City for a ski weekend to celebrate G's birthday. These are lifelong friends who really get each other, great guys all. Happily, they were all game (and, in fact, enthusiastic) so yesterday Chris flew in from Oregon, Sugata from California, Chuck from Arizona, G from here and they met four more friends who already live there: Mark, Nate, Justin, and Kelly.  Watch out, Park City.

Once he got a seat on the plane, he called to tell me goodbye and thank you, that he made his plane, and that he accidentally took my credit card with him. We were chatting away when in the background I heard a woman say (obviously to G), very clearly, "hi! do you mind if I sit in your lap?" + playful laughter.

Now, maybe there are some situations in travel I'm not aware of where sitting in a strange man's lap (or offering to) would be advisable.  I can't really think of any right now. Or, let's give her the benefit of the doubt...maybe G was accidentally sitting in her seat.  But, still.  It rankled.

I piped up on my end of the line "um, I DO!"

He relayed, "my wife says to tell you she minds."  We all laughed. Hahahahaha.  (Grrrr.)

. . .

It really was funny. Except not really.  

It's been a tough year for the marriage model, fidelity wise.  It feels like every month there's a new scandal about someone (Say it ain't so, Dave! and Tiger. and various governors. and presidential candidates. and friends' husbands.  Say...it...ain't...so.)

I hate that this betrayal happens...especially when it's to people I love.

I hate that with every new story another whisper of a fear enters my marriage heart, despite my trust in G.  I really do trust his love and goodness. Even saying that, the whisper pipes up "that's what all those wives said, too."  

And you know what else? I hate that women feel free to flirt with other people's husbands. We should be better to each other than that.

. . .

Because marriage is a leap of faith. And fidelity (the Latin fides, meaning trust, belief, faith) is the privilege and price of that unique, wholehearted relationship that marriage offers.  

Because this is what should be happening more often, not less:

My grandfather was born and raised on our New Zealand farm. He and my grandmother were married nearly 60 years. Preparing for a photo in the barley, my grandmother lovingly reached up to adjust his hat. This was his last harvest.

Gemma Collier, National Geographic Photo of the Day, 11.04.09

Best of .09 ~ Best article

(This is a tough category, Gwen Bell!  Since I'm a doctoral student I read a way too many articles and several of them were influential for me this year, at least in a scholastic sense.  But no, the article that floated to the top of my mind wasn't a research article or a study.  It was this interesting personal essay from the New York Times about a woman's remarkable and radically different response to her husband's news that he wanted a divorce.)

When we were driving from Boston to NYC, my mom and I had a nice stretch of time to chat.  In keeping with every other road trip in our lives, my mom brought a folder of clippings from articles and essays she's cut out and kept over the previous months. (I have many memories of falling asleep in the way back of the station wagon, listening to my mom reading a short story or article passage to my dad. Back in the days when you could put down the seat, lie down with a pillow and sleeping bag, sans seatbelt.)  Anyway, she got this one out and started to read.

It fueled discussions, on and off, for the rest of the trip. Here's an excerpt:

This isn’t the divorce story you think it is. Neither is it a begging-him-to-stay story. It’s a story about hearing your husband say “I don’t love you anymore” and deciding not to believe him. And what can happen as a result...He was in the grip of something else — a profound and far more troubling meltdown that comes not in childhood but in midlife, when we perceive that our personal trajectory is no longer arcing reliably upward as it once did. But I decided to respond the same way I’d responded to my children’s tantrums. And I kept responding to it that way. For four months.

Instead, she said "I don't buy it," gave him space, and got on with her life.  Here's the part that really hit me:

You see, I’d recently committed to a non-negotiable understanding with myself. I’d committed to “The End of Suffering.” I’d finally managed to exile the voices in my head that told me my personal happiness was only as good as my outward success, rooted in things that were often outside my control. I’d seen the insanity of that equation and decided to take responsibility for my own happiness. And I mean all of it.

I'd love to hear what you think if you read the article. It's thought provoking and (I think) the "end of suffering" and "I don't buy it" approaches could be applicable in lots of areas of life, not just marriage.

. . .

Day Three of Gwen Bell's Best of 2009 challenge. And, yes, all three "best of" answers so far have included my mom in some way.  Interesting. (I must be missing you, Mom.) 

Image by Christopher Silas Neal, via NY Times