25 years of wedded ignorance. 👰🏻🤵🏻

Tomorrow marks 25 years since Jason and I said, “I do.”  I was looking at some pictures of us from before we got married.

Staring at those two young, know-it-all kids, I couldn’t help the words from jumping into my mind… 

“Oh…what they didn’t know….” 

That’s true for everyone that starts out, right?  You naively think you somehow control the outcome, that your brains, professions or social circles will deliver a life of ease and comfort.  

Looking back, what we didn’t know was so, so, SO, much. 

We didn’t know that marriage requires you to learn so many things about each other. Like the fact that he wants the dishes in the dishwasher arranged “the right way” and that she really needs moments of quiet without noise or talking or she will get really, really cranky and sweet Jesus don’t let her get hungry because she will be super mean. 

We decided to build some businesses, and we didn’t know that building a business was such HARD work.  We didn’t know the stress would strain us and cause us to argue over the best way to do…well…everything. We didn’t realize that debt would rack up so quickly when building those businesses. Combined with hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt from professional school…it was suffocating.  We didn’t know that there would be times we would panic and pray that we could make our employee’s payroll, all the while tucking our own paychecks away in drawers to be cashed when the bank accounts weren’t so bare.  

Then we decided to add some babies, another thing we somehow didn’t know was going to be so hard…as Jim Gaffigan says…

“You know what it’s like to have 5 kids?  Imagine you’re drowning, and someone hands you a baby.” 

We didn’t have 5, but sometimes it felt like it because we didn’t know that the businesses were our “babies” too.  And just like kids pull at you for attention, work pulled at us with almost as much tenacity as those babies of ours. Drowning indeed. 

Speaking of brand new babies… We didn’t know you could go through a day, unshowered and covered in spit-up, and when given the option to get clean or just go straight to bed, we would exhaustedly choose bed because the energy it would take to shower was too much to imagine.  We didn’t know that colic with our first child would send us to the brink of insanity, and we didn’t know what it would be like to spend New Year’s Eve in a hospital with our second newborn.  We didn’t know that we’d be praying that the pic line they finally placed after blowing 17 IV placements in her teeny tiny body would deliver the exact medications she needed to stop an infection.  We didn’t know the twisted feeling of relief that she was getting the meds could actually be paired with the worry that we had to sign a release stating that, yes, we understood deafness was a potential side effect. We didn’t know that a third baby would come long after we sold all the baby things and that you do forget all that messy stuff I talked about earlier in this paragraph until you once again, smell like spit up and this time you’re covered in it while dropping her off at daycare with parents who are so much younger than you that you could have given birth to them. 

We obviously knew that babies became toddlers but we had no clue that toddlers are tiny terrorists that somehow also come with exploding amounts of emotions AND toys. That boy who thought that a perfectly arranged dishwasher was his biggest concern would have to come to grips with large, plastic, ugly toys covering every corner of his home.

We didn’t know that sending each child to kindergarten would feel like a trust fall when we watched them put their tiny arms through the straps of the backpack that was as big as they were while we prayed the world would be kind to them. 

We didn’t know that three girls come with some really BIG emotions and we never imagined that the most often repeated question in our house would by… “wait, why are YOU crying NOW?” 

We didn’t know that sending those kids to elementary school would look like a walk in the park compared to sending them to college, and we never imagined how hard that drive home would be after you drop them off. 

We certainly never imagined that sadness that comes from hearing a word like miscarriage, and never in a million years did we know the terror that rips through a family when they hear the word cancer. 

We.Just.Didn’t.Know. 

But you know what else? 

We didn’t know that someday we would know each other so well that we could tease each other about the organized dishwasher as well as the other ones propensity for introversion, and we never knew that knowing each other for so long that you learn all the personality quirks becomes something you are prideful about. 

We didn’t know that those spit-up covered parents would laugh hysterically at how tired they were and that a baby sleeping through the night would feel like they won the dang lottery. We didn’t know that we would understand gratitude for healthy kids so well and we never imagined that being the “old parents” would allow us to parent with such a better understanding of what we were doing this time. 

We didn’t know that rocking a baby at 3am while you rub your face against a tiny head covered in baby soft hair, with the feel of them breathing on your chest, can somehow make you sob at the fleetingness of the moment. We didn’t know that hearing the first words and watching the first steps would be something we would cheer about like they were the first in the world to accomplish such great tasks.  

We had no idea that seeing your kids become adults and bloom into their own people, with their own dreams, is worth every second that we miss them being under our roof. 

We could never have expected that watching your child find the person that they get to “know nothing with”,  is one of life’s greatest joys. 

Not knowing those scary words I mentioned earlier can be coupled with the fact that we also never knew the joy of hearing a babies heartbeat on an ultrasound or the elation that comes with words like “cured” and “free of cancer.” 

We didn’t know that the tired, irritated, and stressful years behind building those businesses would yoke us together in ways nothing else could have.  We didn’t know how much building things together would be one of the things we were most proud of.  We never knew how much fun we were going to have doing it. 

AND…we never knew that “building stuff” would include a family that fiercely loves each other and knows how precious life is. A family that laughs all.the.time. A family rooted in its faith in Christ. It’s the most beautiful project we’ve ever created. 

So, I look at those pictures and instead of sighing with sadness at all the stuff those innocent faces didn’t know, I think I’ll choose to concentrate on…well… all the stuff they didn’t know. 

I love you more than I could ever express in one of my silly blogs, Jason Steven Lake. The best decision of my entire life was when I said “I do” 25 years ago.  Here’s to 40 more years of not knowing stuff with you. 

P.S.  I’m pretty damn good at loading the dishwasher now and I’m gonna need you to admit it. But first, I need a snack…I feel a little grouchy. 

Love, Suzy

A terrible reason for a wonderful day.

Matthew 5:4 – Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted

I found myself contemplating this verse on a recent drive “home” to the state where I grew up. Maybe it would be more accurate to say I was seeking the comfort that this verse promised.  I was traveling to attend the celebration-of-life ceremony for one of my childhood best friends. Her time on this earth was far too short. Her passing was the result of a decades long battle with Multiple Sclerosis.  

She was a beautiful girl who grew into a beautiful woman.  She married a devoted man and became the mother of three gorgeous children. This woman and I were part of a very close-knit group of friends. For most of our adolescence, where one of us was, the others were usually close by. Small community, and midwestern life allowed us to grow fairly protected from the world but its size also left us all wanting for more than we could have in the confines of this one stop-light town. We spent days and nights dreaming of the time we’d grow up and move away, never to look back.  We were certain there was nothing except opportunity and excitement on the other side of the city limit signs. 

Grow up, we did.  

Leave, we did. 

Unexpectedly, growing apart was a piece of that as well.  A part of the plan we never saw coming and one we would have sworn was impossible.  Eventually we found ourselves scattered across the country, doing different jobs, with spouses from other places and children who grew up only knowing each other from the stories we would tell them.  

And still, even with this distance…her death, it shook me. It was this little piece of my DNA that seemed altered. When the news came to me, it seemed like someone changed the ending to my favorite book. “No, that’s not how it ends, you’re messing it up.” 

Yet, ended it had.  

I found myself on that multi-hour drive back home to a ceremony where I was sure I would find the comfort as promised in that verse. I was certain there would be something in the message of the service that would re-align those genetics. Or perhaps hugging her parents, who I knew like my own during our youth, would bring me back to center. Maybe seeing her own family, who she was so proud of, would close the chapter nicely for me. 

All of those things were wonderful, but they were not what fulfilled the promise stated in Matthew.  I didn’t find the comfort where I expected to see it. 

You see, as I entered the building that would eventually hold over 300 people who came to say goodbye to my friend, I realized I knew no one. I awkwardly stood near a table and fidgeted with my phone, watching the door with an almost desperate hope that the next person to arrive would be familiar to me. Finally, I saw one friend across the room, and he spotted me too.  We hugged and chatted until more and more of our classmates arrived. We eventually migrated together to a table in the far back of the room.  Adding chairs as needed so none of us had to sit separate from the rest. There was never a question any of us would sit elsewhere. 

The service was lovely. The pictures of her life were simultaneously endearing and devastating. She had loved so well, and she had suffered so much. I found myself more confused than comforted. I heard a letter her children wrote to her, and I was reminded that her birthday was the very next day. The fact that she wouldn’t celebrate with her loved ones as her mere 52 years commenced seemed unfathomable. 

Where was my comfort?  The verse says so clearly, “BLESSED are those who mourn.”  I wanted the blessing, and I wanted it to be obvious. I wanted it to lay in my lap at the conclusion of the service and I wanted it to fill my soul with an understanding of WHY.  Why was she taken so early?  Why was her life filled with pain?  Why was her husband a widower and her children without their precious mother?  Why did her parents have to say such an unnatural goodbye? 

I continued seeking and after the service, my friends and I began talking as you do after one of these events. We shared where we were in our lives now, flipped through each other’s pictures, bragged about our kids and caught up on 30 years of lives apart.  This was far more than the number of years we had together and yet, they had flown by.  The distance of those years seemed to shrink away as we started laughing with each other.  We shared stories of our youths that only we knew.  We filled in the blanks of our memories with the individual pieces that we individually recalled to the stories we told.  It is hard to say how close to accurate we were but the general idea of all the memories was there and our friend who had passed was at the center of all of them. She would have loved it. She would have done as we did and laughed until she wiped tears from her eyes. I am so hopeful that she heard it all and was as entertained as we were. In my heart I believe she did.

Amid it all my friend Tony said, “You know, sometimes I see pictures of all of you and I think to myself, I know them.  I REALLY KNOW them” 

I knew exactly what he meant.

There’s something about the people who saw you through braces and bad perms, first days of school and first loves, new driver car wrecks and bad decision groundings.  They see you differently.  They fill in the gaps.  

They comfort you with their presence.  

That’s when I found it.  The comfort found by the blessed who are mourning.  It wasn’t from the message.  It was from the messengers.  The carriers of my childhood stories.  They rearranged the scrambled cells of confusion and did so with the simple act of laughing through stories of our shared origins.  

God’s comforting spirit delivered through our grief and joyful memories is such a painfully sweet way to experience it. He is unfailing in meeting us when we need him, He persists until we see Him, He reminds us of his ever-presence and surprises us with his methods of doing so. 

At the end of this wonderful day that happened for a terrible reason, I knew for certain that we were blessed, with those who mourn, and who receive His comfort.   How blessed indeed. 

—Suzy Lake 

*In memory of my friend, Kendall Moody Sunneberg