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August 19, 2005

two words

after a long day of work, i was driving to the farmer's market to buy some fresh vegetables & fruit. of course i was listening to NPR, and a commentary by a man named Ron Judd came on All Things Considered that caught me. in Bellingham, Washington, if you want to legally snip the ties that bind, you are required to appear as a couple in the courthouse on a Friday, and speak aloud the declaration that your marriage is "irretrievably broken."

as i pulled into a parking space, i was caught by the vulnerability and pain that Judd was still clearly experiencing as he spoke those profound two words. he said he felt that couples a few floors below who are applying for a marriage license should be required to sit through an hour or so of these divorce declarations -- a sort of un-marriage ceremony -- to understand how high the stakes are. he wondered how many people are truly prepared to "bear the weight of their own vows."

i sat there in my car, silent, transfixed. next week T.T. & i will be one of those bright-eyed couples applying for our marriage license. i think we do understand how high the stakes are, to some degree -- that's why we fought so hard to get to where we are now. but how can we really appreciate what marriage will demand of us until we have actually made those vows; already said those other two profound words: "i do?" in this last hectic month, will we see the solemnity of what we're doing through the haze of stress and excitement?

"marriage," he went on to say, "is only as forgiving as the frequency and depth to which you can swallow your own pride. it's only as lasting as your own ability to forgive. and it's only as permanent as the strength you bring to it every hour." some couples, he said, grasp this in time, but for him & his soon-to-be ex-wife, it was only when they were standing in that courtroom, far too late.

i was destroyed. maybe it was being exhausted & hungry anyway, but i had to stay in my parked car for awhile to pull myself together. as i bought my apples, tears were still escaping as i thought about what it might mean to replace "i do" with "irretrievably broken." squeezing peaches and sniffling, i wondered if perhaps since T.T. & i have already begun to live by these concepts of patience, forgiveness, teamwork, we already had a good start. by the time i got to the cucumbers, i knew that when we go to the courthouse next week, we'll do so without frivolity, but with a great deal of joy. we're a work-in-progress now. we'll always be.

sigh. here at HadashiWorld, we seem to be simply full of seriousness these days. perhaps after the weekend, and hopefully some surfing, we'll go back to things like posting photos of psychotic squirrels.

Posted by hadashi at August 19, 2005 6:17 PM

Comments

"i sat there in my car, silent, transfixed."

i love your writing.

:+:

can you believe i haven't written up BlogHer yet? it was almost too much, there are some things i'll never tell. :)

i'm glad i met you, though. i'll shout that shit from the mountaintops. ;)

Posted by: A N N A at August 19, 2005 11:26 PM

Wow hadashi. Thanks for sharing. Once I started crying while listening to an NPR piece on divorce - I was so distracted that the police pulled me over for running a stop sign!

Living here in Seattle I've read many of Ron Judd's columns and I remember or feel I remember when he got married. I'm sad to hear of his divorce but grateful for the wisdom you and he each shared.

Posted by: Julie at August 19, 2005 11:53 PM

So well written. I love how your mind works!!! I read that aloud to Brian and he agreed wholeheartedly with Judd and with your observations. He, being someone who has gotten a divorce, said that when you're to a point where divorce is your solution you'll do anything to get out of the hell that is your life at that point. He said that you forget the vows, you forget the love you once shared because those words were spoken by two people you don't even know anymore. To him, he would have shouted the words from a street corner in front of the world. In that statement I can feel the desperation, brokenness and grief. Hard to imagine going from the marriage license floor to the divorce floor.

Posted by: Marti at August 20, 2005 10:40 PM

Great post. I think it is so tragic when two people find that they have grown apart - or that they were never really "together" to begin with. You are SO incredibly mature to realize that you do not know what the future holds. In that knowing, you possess a wisdom that will both carry you through the rocky times and compel you to bring the best of you to the marriage. It is the people who think marriage is "happily ever after" who scare me.

Posted by: katieburke at August 22, 2005 8:23 PM

thanks, everyone. i appreciate all the confirmation & cheering on, especially in this whack-a-mole home stretch.

Posted by: hadashi at August 22, 2005 10:12 PM

sugoi, i heard the same one while driving home from the gym, and was amazed at how much i hurt for this guy. the older i get, the more miraculous 5-year-anniversaries sound, 10-year-- shocking, etc. today i got an email from the first friend whose wedding i was in and was divorced 4 years and 2 kids later... her wedding will be next month, and this time (hopefully i can go), while i won't be on stage looking into their faces, i will pray against all that is irretrievable.

there's more... the next friend whose wedding i was in is seperating with her husband of 6 years in a week or so. the 'happy' thing is that they're doing so with deliberation and with a desire to let God repair what's torn. 6 months ago the 'irretrievable broken' threat was looming, so i choose to see this as encouragement.

but then the other night, i stumbled upon some bad news from an old friend (the biggest heartbreak of my first adult yrs-- yew know who), and he's already gotten the divorce. i couldn't believe how sorrowed i was to hear that... i felt crushed. i just sat there saying 'oh no, oh no.'

all of this in the midst of my faith that Creator is strong enough to weave what we can't weave alone, and that he will do this for you, my beloved sister and soon-to-be brother... and i remember the words of gregory petrov, who wrote in an icy siberian concentration camp of the greater reality in his life: "with You, there is nothing irreparable."

Posted by: ernli Author Profile Page at September 14, 2005 11:19 PM

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