Worth the effort

A few days ago, Over the Rhine provided me the inspiration to finally come up with a blog title I liked, inspired by a quote from one of Linford's writings posted on their website. What compelled me to surf over to their site in the first place was an article published recently on the Christianity Today website. It was an interview with Linford's wife, Karin, in which she candidly discusses the difficulties that their marriage has undergone in recent times and how they came to decide it was worth the effort to save it.

I was touched by this interview. From what I can tell, Karin, Linford and I are all around the same age, and while I, a 38-year-old single female, have never been married, many of my friends have. Many still are. More than I would have expected are not.

Over the last 20 years, I have been a bridesmaid in seven weddings. Four of those seven couples are still (happily?) married, two have divorced, and one is heading toward divorce; they have been separated for almost two years. (The subject of what makes a "happy marriage," or what role happiness plays/should play in how we make big life decisions, I'll save for another time. Or for a more ambitious blogger than I, whichever comes first.) For whatever all this is worth, most of those individuals, at least at the time they married, would call themselves committed Christians. (Which brings to mind the statistics indicating that the divorce rate in the Christian community is not much different than that in the general population, but that too is a discussion for another time.)

And one more disclaimer: the above number only counts the weddings where I served as a bridesmaid. Two more divorces come to mind immediately if I count weddings of friends where my role was, ironically, as Scripture reader.

I have walked through some pretty dark places with these friends and family members, and I've grieved the death of each of these unions to varying degrees. I've dealt with my own anger and disillusionment in the midst of it all, which only emphasizes the ripple effect that a couple's divorce has on the community at large. It's a myth -- a lie -- that convinces us that such a decision only affects the couple at hand. Whether or not they have children, other people -- family members, friends, church members, and so on -- will be caught in the crossfire. Because, more likely than not, those friends and family members have invested in that marriage as well, to varying degrees.

I don't mean to pass judgment or to act as if I know firsthand how challenging marriage is. I don't want to pretend that I've been as good or faithful a friend as I could have been to those who have suffered through the heartbreak of divorce. I may or may not ever get to experience the sacrament of marriage firsthand. (Even if I am not Catholic, I recognize the "institution" of marriage to be sacramental.) But I recognize that, even as an unmarried woman, I am a part of a community of witnesses who promise to never separate (or "put asunder") that which God has joined together. I continue to wonder what it means to hold couples accountable to vows that I have witnessed them making to one another, before God. A tricky business in our individualistic society.

All this is to say that I applaud Karin's and Linford's courage, their willingness to say no to good things in order to attend to their marriage. What a witness this is to those around them -- those who know them well and those who only know them by their music.

Who knew?

You're the United Nations!
Most people think you're ineffective, but you are trying to completely save the world from itself, so there's always going to be a long way to go. You're always the one trying to get friends to talk to each other, enemies to talk to each other, anyone who can to just talk instead of beating each other about the head and torso. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't, and you get very schizophrenic as a result. But your heart is in the right place, and sometimes also in New York.
Take the Country Quiz at the Blue Pyramid

OK. I just want to go on record here by saying that I don't plan for this blog to be all about these weird online diagnose-your-personality quizzes. I truly do have a clearer sense of myself than that. However, when I saw this one at Sheryl's blog, I couldn't resist. And it's relatively accurate, I think. So far as it goes.

On the other hand, I'm not going to post the results of The Book Quiz, because it's just too weird, and no matter how many times I take it and try to manipulate the answers, it never comes out anything close to what I think is accurate.

Hm. Think maybe I have some control issues? =)

I'll be back soon with a real post. Honest.

I belong in Rome?

OK, so I'm not convinced that this is exactly a part of my "true story," but it's accurate so far as it goes! But I'm good to go if you replace the cappuccino with a mocha latte. Which you wouldn't be likely to find in Italy, as I've learned from experience, having actually been privileged enough to visit Rome, almost seven years ago to the day.

(And hey--if you happen to take this quiz, feel free to report back and let me know if I'm the only person who found it difficult to choose among the multiple choice options offered for some of those questions. I just live in a parallel universe from the quiz writers, I guess.)

You Belong in Rome You're a big city girl with a small town heart Which is why you're attracted to the romance of Rome Strolling down picture perfect streets, cappuccino in hand And gorgeous Italian men -- could life get any better? What City Do You Belong in? Take This Quiz :-)

What must I do to make my life a true story?

This blogging experiment never seems to get completely off the ground for me, as evidenced by the date (almost four months past) of my one and only post. But I've been on a blog-reading binge lately, and am therefore inspired to add my own musings to the cybervoid.

So here I am.

And I think I've finally come up with a blog title I like, inspired by a visit earlier today to the website of one of my favorite musical groups, Over the Rhine. Linford Detweiler, the male half of the duo of Detweiler and (Karin) Bergquist, published a poem/essay hybrid there called They Put This Microphone In Front Of Me. Toward the end of it, he writes this:

They put this microphone in front of me and it's a story problem, remember story problems? It's a story problem because as usual, I don't have much of anything to say. But I ask myself, What must I do to make my life a true story?

What must I do to make my life a true story?

Stay tuned...