Love Song

Back in high school, Jon used to make cassette tapes of mixed music for me and we would listen to those songs on our Friday night dates. Nearly each week he would pick me up and drive me home, road time between the country and the city that allowed for many long drives past setting sun, under the starry skies, or beneath falling snow. The country highways meandered through forested hills and hidden valleys to city lights and sights which welcomed our weekly arrival. During these drives we would listen to those tapes and imagine our life down the road, so to speak.

We had "our" song, of course, as many couples do. Our song was picked out and introduced to me by Jon: Dark Angel by Blue Rodeo.



Yesterday, rather unintentionally, I came across our old song on my iPhone as I was searching for music to play in the car while the kids and I drove from one activity or errand to the next. With little introduction, I played it for them. No, actually, I played it for me. Over and over again like therapy.

And it made me think about where we've been and to where we're traveling next. This journey that we're on, this union called marriage, is very much a love song. We each play our part and together we make music, like our very own piece that plays out in our hearts as we travel through the wide open, through the hills and valleys, and to varied destinations.

At least we hope that our song would make a lovely background to our living. But yesterday, as I thought about reality, it would seem that sometimes we break away from making music together. 'Course this is never intentional at first, but sometimes the music we used to play together has gradually changed. Yeah, we each think we're playing harmoniously, but we're so busy listening to our own part that we don't even realize we're not keeping the right notes and beat. Or worse, we're each playing a different song, the genre is entirely different, and we're intentionally playing so loudly as to drown out the other.

Then it becomes clear that we're only making obnoxious noise, no one is happy, and the music stops. Awkward, uncomfortable, distressing silence.

Then what? Blame? Some couples eventually determine it has become impossible and walk away. Many determine making music is useless, set their instruments down for good, and live in cold silence.

Others look to God for grace, for humility, and forgiveness. God is the only reason a marriage can stand, the only intervening force that can make a couple pick up the music and play once again to His glory. Again and again, Jon and I must look to God.

Sometimes we don't get to pick the song or the part that we like best. Sometimes we feel like we can't even play the instrument right. But we repeatedly practice until in unison we can make music again.

And the effort is always worthwhile.

How I love this man of mine! Last night after a long game of Monopoly with the kiddos, when everyone was finally tucked in and the house was quiet, we sat face to face by the kitchen table. It was a date of sorts, an appointment we had made the night before to talk things through. And there we were, knees interlaced and his hand resting on my leg, calm again after a day spent in personal reflection and renewal of self-denial. No more blame or misunderstanding, just a desire to learn, serve, and love still deeper.

It's true that we are vastly different and that sometimes working through those differences is a challenge, but we always come back to the realization that God brings different people together to compliment each other and to balance out strengths and weaknesses. It's iron sharpening iron; teamwork that accomplishes more together than what could be done alone.

And the music is not always pretty (especially because I am not musically inclined!), but it is music offered up in renewed effort.

Love you Jon!

(Photos courtesy of Olivia.)

Click here to listen to our song :)


~Katherine