*Disclaimer: I promise this isn’t a pity-party post. You should probably read to the end, or you
might think I have chronic depression.
Just
got back from the best wedding I’ve ever attended. It was so much fun! (But we’ll get to that in just a minute.)
During
my recent travels, I was able to catch up with a lot of friends—past, present,
and future—who each bring a unique perspective to life. In my conversations this
week, here are a few of the thoughts that I had:
Being single without
children is hard. Every time I see friends
whom I haven’t seen in a while, I wish I had more to report other than, “I’m
busy. I work a lot.” I know it’s self-imposed, but events like
weddings can have a little bit of a bite to them. (Why bother standing to catch the
bouquet? I know that I’m not next in
line for anything.) It feels a little
bit like being a clearance item at the store—one that’s been marked down so
many times that the store is practically begging someone to take it. But no
one ever does—because who wants something that’s been sitting on the shelf that
long? The idea of being a young, blushing bride is replaced by gray hair and wrinkles. And the hope of someday having a family becomes exponentially less likely with every passing year.
Being single with children
is hard. And then there are those who
are like me, but they have kids. Whether
from death, divorce, or poor decisions, living the single life with kids
presents its own difficulties. From the
way it’s been described to me, it sounds an awful lot like trying to run a
marathon with a child (or multiple children) strapped to one’s back. Then there’s the balancing act of trying to
figure out how to provide for the kids, yet still have enough time and energy leftover
to nurture them too. Between finances and household chores, there seems little left for the kids themselves. And the uncertain
future looms in the far—but not far enough—distance. How long can a person be expected to shoulder
the responsibilities of a family on their own?
Being married without
children is hard. The question, “So when are
you two going to have kids?” becomes an irritating conversation starter a mere
5 seconds into the marriage. (Because
first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby
carriage.) For some, just figuring out how to be married is hard enough, and their trepidation for fitting a child into the mix is well-founded.
For others, it seems an especially difficult journey because they yearn
for children but are childless. And even
though some couples would make amazing parents, they get to watch as others—perhaps
even others less fit or deserving of parenthood—have a child. Or two.
Or three. It may seem like getting to watch everyone else get to have fun at Disneyland, but you and your spouse aren't allowed in. And no one can seem to tell you why.
Being married with children
is hard. Really hard. Because I’m convinced that a good parent
physically hurts when their children are hurting. Because the responsibility of caring for
other humans can be crushing. Because
kids have minds and personalities of their own.
Because sleep deprivation is a real thing. Because sometimes parents have to give more
financially, emotionally, physically, and/or spiritually than they feel they
are able. And just when it seems like
there’s smooth sailing, the car breaks down.
Or the pet hamster dies. Or you
accidentally start World War III by cooking a dinner that has onions in it. (Sorry, Mom.)
There’s always another load of laundry.
There’s always an appliance that needs fixing. There’s always a child who needs you to be
strong for them, right parents and grandparents? And with all of that, a mother or father is
still expected to honor and cherish their spouse. (They must do that for the whole three
minutes a week when all the kids are placated by Daniel Tiger.)
Getting older is hard. I've heard it asked, "So when does it get easy?" Well--best I can figure--it doesn't. As one gets older, they too must face whatever is thrown their way. The phrase "endure to the end" is thought of often.
Do
you get what I’m saying? Being a human is hard.
So why do we do it? If everyone has it so hard, then why are so many of
us so happy?
Because we are that we might
have joy. So—back to this wedding
story. Two of the best people I’ve ever
met finally tied the knot after years
of dating and planning. Truly, it was
one of the best weddings I’ve ever attended.
Many were in attendance—all of us at different phases in our lives. And as I watched the bride and groom exchange
their vows—one of them on guitar—I was overwhelmed by the love in the
room. Their love for each other. The attendees’ collective love for them. Their love and appreciation toward us for
sharing in their special day. As I sat
there surrounded by friends who have become like family, I couldn’t help but feel
grateful for our moments together. To
say it was beautiful wouldn’t begin to be sufficient.
So—my
point, I guess, is this: Yes, we all
have hardships. But, life is for
living. Life is for laughing. Life is for loving. (I think I saw that on a plaque at Hobby
Lobby or something.) We are meant to
have joy, and not some kind of hypothetical joy in the future. Not when/if we get married. Not when/if we have kids. Not when/if all of our problems go away. We are to have joy here. Now.
In whatever phase of life we may find ourselves.
May
we all choose to seek out and share those moments of joy.
