Returning the favor

In the fall of 2008, I decided that I was going to ask Jennie to marry me.  I went to her parents house  to ask for her hand in marriage.  I knew it was going to be a non-trivial thing to do, but I had no idea it was going to be so difficult.  It was one of the most enduring and grueling things I've ever experienced. Amongst the many things I was questioned about during what seemed like an interrogation, is her dad asking me (a bit spitefully): "how do you know that if you marry my daughter, your marriage will happy and ever lasting?"

They asked me many questions, some very difficult to answer, some embarrassing, most irrelevant. Of them all, that question was the easiest to answer. I took no time to reply "I don't know, and even if I somehow could, I wouldn't want to."  I knew going in that I was choosing the person to face all the uncertainties of life with. That as selfish and prideful as a person I knew I could be, she was one of the few people I have ever wanted to do more for than myself.  That I would be as strong as I could, so that she could tether herself to me when she felt like the world was spinning out of control. That I would be her rock when she felt fragile, her reassuring husband when she got scared, someone that could brighten her day when things looked broken. The person to restore faith, and possibly hope when things looked their absolute darkest.

What I didn't know, what I didn't expect, was just how much more the favor would be returned by my quiet, timid, and shy wife.  Between 2009 (the year we were married) and 2012, we would encounter the following hindrances: losing nearly our entire savings (late 2009), our credit rating lowered to an embarrassingly low number (2011), and, of course, our struggles with infertility (2012). And while there were moments when my wife would feel overwhelmed, scared, and depressed - she was miraculously strong and steadfast through those years and continues to be an incredibly strong and, therefore, inspiring person.

The funny thing is, she will be the first person to tell you that she is a timid and weak person.  She doesn't like to order in Korean at a Korean restaurant, she hates confrontations, she gets scared asking her boss for time-off or pay raises.  And, yet, she is able to (many times reluctantly) perform some of the bravest things I've ever experienced, among them this short list: zip lining through the mountain side of Puerto Vallarta, scuba diving in off the cost of Aruba, placing large tarantulas on her face and snakes around her body while posing for pictures. She's been stung by a jellyfish, held stingrays off the coast of the Cayman Islands (where she also saw me get bit by a female stingray),  experienced tumultuous floods in Cabo San Lucas where we walked barefoot to get help when our car died in the street. Before doing any of the aforementioned things, she was always very scared, and a few times literally almost backed out at the last second. But she stayed strong, persevering and conquering things that she was fearful of.....for me.

Until very recently, I never really thought about why so many older people at weddings (particularly our parents) cry so much at weddings.  I always assumed it was because they were losing their daughter or son, or because they were so proud of them at that moment.  I'm sure that is part of the reason, but I think the bigger, deeper reason is because after being married (or having experienced the trials of marriage) they know what it means to pick someone to take the roller coaster of a ride with. That venturing into something like marriage means you are taking a humongous gamble. An unpredictable journey that will have you gasping for air during times of laughter and joy, and hurling all kinds of items while yelling hurtful explicatives during times of turmoil and frustration.

The only thing you can do is marry someone that is worth sacrificing for, that makes you strive for things you wouldn't have otherwise by yourself.  A person that makes you want to face the many things that are easier to avoid. In this way, selflessly - we start to (most of the time unbeknownst to us) morph into a person, the person, that will become a better husband or wife, and undoubtedly be one of the main steps in becoming a responsible parent.  I guess in this way, a wedding is (many times) the start of a transformation. A transformation whereby we lose some of our stubborn, uncompromising ways and gain the courage to truly sacrifice and exercise real strength in the face of the grimmest and bleakest of times.  A transformation which likely takes years, that may begin with simple things such as overcoming fears, but ends with the deepest and most devoted acts of love.  Jennie may never know the full depth of inspiration and change that she has brought, nor be aware of  the beautiful, caring and courageous person she has become in the process.  When I think about all that could go wrong and the challenges that come with becoming parents to an adopted child, I can derive comfort and strength from a single thought:  In the midst of the darkest and most trying of times, it was then that Jennie's love and spirit shined brightest.