Free Dating Advice (and some thoughts on shopping for jeans)

From time to time, people ask me stuff. Like for actual advice. Crazy, I know. For example, I received this email yesterday from a former dance student:

My boyfriend of 2 months and I are taking a short break to try to work through our differences. I’m having a hard time figuring out what kinds of differences are trivial and insignificant, and what kinds of differences are fundamental and red flags. And how do you get past the small annoyances that aren’t deal breakers? I decided to seek advice and counsel from men and women who are more experienced in relationships (who are married or engaged)...I’d appreciate any thoughts you have to offer! :)

So I thought I'd share my response to this question via blog post.  Because who doesn't love the chance to get on the "relationships" soap box?  Just kidding.  The real reason that I am sharing this is because choosing your life partner is, in my opinion, the most important decision you will ever make.  And I know that there are several more of my friends out there who are going through this process right now.  I'm not an expert by any stretch of the imagination, but if my life experiences and thoughts are helpful to someone, then this post will have served its purpose.

When I was in college, and in high school for that matter, I went on a lot of dates. I loved going on dates, and I went out most weekends, and sometimes on the weeknights.  And, for me, the dating process was really important.  Looking back, I think it was a discovery process.  In some ways I was trying to figure out who I was, to get to know myself better, but more importantly, I was trying to discover how being with that other person changed me and made me feel. 

If I were going to compare it to something I would maybe compare it to finding that perfect pair of jeans.  (In the spirit of full disclosure, I don't think I've ever found a perfect pair of jeans, but I've seen other women do it on Oprah, so I suppose it is possible.)  But I have worn jeans.  Dozens of different pairs in fact, and I have to say, my butt looks different in all of them.  And some of them feel great and I want to wear them every day.  And some of them just don't work for me.  Too big. Too small. Wrong color.  Wrong pockets.  Whatever. 

So for me, dating was like trying on a bunch of different pairs of jeans.  Because sometimes you think that a pair of jeans looks so great folded up on the table in the trendy store.  And they might have everything you think you are looking for.  Just like that guy with the great dimples and the adorable sweater who is definitely pre-med in your chemistry class.  But until you try the jeans on, you have no idea if really they are just going to make you look fat.  And until you get to know the guy with the dimples and see for yourself who you are when you are with him, and who he is when he is with you, then you won't really know if your idea of the perfect guy really is the perfect guy for you.

So what I am getting at is that there isn't really a checklist of things that work for everyone.  Just because a certain brand or style of jeans really works for my body doesn't mean that it will work for yours.  Remember that when people are sharing relationship must-haves.

The other night I went to dinner with my dear friend Brent Mecham.  And we were talking about our relationships.  And he pointed out that his marriage to Katie had changed him.  And that he was a different person now because of having been married to her.  And that I was a different person than I otherwise would have been for having been married to Matt.  That we are different together than we are alone. Our togetherness fundamentally changes us. 

He's right.

So who are you when you are with your boyfriend?  And do you like her?  Does he bring out your best qualities and make you want to be even better?  Or does it feel not quite right? 

At one time in my life I thought I wanted to marry this guy.  And he was a great guy in so many ways.  He was cute and talented and smart.  And he was good to me.  And he loved me.  And I loved him.  But there was something about our relationship that when I was with him I wasn't able to be as freely independent as I now know I need to be.  Had I married him, I fear that I would have felt stiffled in the relationship, or that the expression of my independence would have made him unhappy.  Luckily, in the end I listened to my heart.  I ended up with a man who loves and celebrates my independence and supports me in becoming everything I need and want to be.  I am truly and deeply happy, and I try every day to make him happy too.

What are some core aspects I believe every relationship should strongly evaluate--the potenital deal breakers you mentioned?  Faith.  Do you belong to the same faith and do you approach it in the same way?  If you belong to different faiths, can you truly support each other?  Family.  Do you both want kids?  Do you have similar parenting ideals? How do you fit into each others families?  Finances.  Let's face it, it's not sexy but in the end this is a huge part of any marriage.  I recommend finding common ground on this as early as possible.

Since you asked about red flags, I will share one that I've observed in relationships over the years.  I have noticed that in serious relationships where many of the family and friends have a strong negative reaction to the significant other, that the friends and family are usually right in the end.  This can be hard and painful to accept.

How do Matt and I get past small annoyances?  We make jokes.  We laugh our heads off.  We make fun of each other all the time.  It is easy since Matt gives me so much material.  I'm practically perfect so it's harder for him to find anything annoying about me, but sometimes he makes stuff up.

I recently read a book where the author described the moment that she first saw her husband to-be and she said, "He looked like home to me."  I loved that.  If I could sum it all up, I would say that is what you are looking for.  When you find someone who, for you, looks like home and feels like home, you will know that you are home.

Stupid Christmas Lights

I'm sitting on my couch tonight contemplating the Universe.  Okay, really I'm just thinking about the Christmas decorations.  And what I'm thinking is that they need to come down.  And I'm too tired to take them down because I've just spent the last 4 days diving into the abyss known as my children's rooms.  And I have tamed this primal chaos.  And I am tired.

And now I am wondering what in the world I was thinking several weeks ago when it was time to put up the Christmas decorations, and I decided we needed to put lights on the house.  We have never put lights on the house previously, but this year, I decided it had to happen.  My children were lamenting that we never decorate for anything--to which I pointed out that I did indeed put a pumpkin on the porch for Halloween--uncarved, but whatev.  Anyway, I decided that we should put lights on the house.  Matt didn't want to.  But since I had made up my mind, it was going to happen, even if I had to do it myself!

Last year my friend Christine put lights up on her tall pointy rafters all by herself because her husband is the FBI and he was off catching bad guys. If Christine can climb up a ladder, then dang it so can I! (Did I mention that Christine also rides motorcycles and runs man races and is the Queen of Christmas?  Yeah, looking back it was a bad move to try to keep up with Christine.  She kicks my butt in all things, including and maybe especially the Christmas light category.)

Really, and quite naively, I thought that somehow I would convince my husband to do it.  When God created Adam and Eve and set forth how marriage was supposed to work, He clearly stated that Christmas lights on the outside of the house are one of the husband's supreme and sublime duties.  Oh wait, you don't have that version of the Bible?  They maybe left that out in some translations, but it definitely reads like that in the Romanian version which I would be happy to read aloud and offer up a personal translation for anyone, anytime.

Matt, it seems, doesn't believe the word of God as written in Romanian and translated by Heather, and so I had to move on to other tactics.

I started with hinting.  Then I moved to flirting.  Then I went to bribery.  Nothin'.

So pretty soon I found myself outside, on a ladder, with a staple gun.  That's right.  A staple GUN. Because tough women shoot guns . . . with staples in them. And I got some lights hung partway along the top of the garage and then the string of lights became unweildy and the staple gun hard to maneuver and then I stapled through the cord and almost said a swear word.

"Cora," I said to my eldest daughter who was watching me with a fascinated and somewhat worried look on her face, "Go and get your father."

And soon Matt appeared reluctantly in the doorway with a wary look on his face.  It's the look he gets when he knows I am going to make him do something he really doesn't want to do.  "Did you need me?"

"Yes," I said in my voice that was too calm which really meant that I was about to lose it, "I would like you to help me hang the Christmas lights."

And so Matt walked slowly down the garage steps, like a man condemned, and came and stood next to me to see what I'd done so far.  I hadn't even hung one strand of lights.

"How would you like me to help you?" he said very reasonably, so that to our neighbor Clyde who was out hanging his lights too, probably thought we were having a very normal conversation, when really it was a heated battle of wills.

I suggested several options for how this might go, and finally Matt asked, "Would you just like me to do it?"

Duh.

And so he traced the garage with the lights and then asked how I wanted the rest of it to go.  I suggested several options, and he said, "Just tell me what you want."

And, seeing my husband in utter misery, I told him just to staple them in a straight line to the nearest outlet.  The end.  It looked stupid, but we just pretended that was what we meant to do all along.

In the end, the Christmas lights were a surrender.  I learned that I am not all powerful, even with a staple gun in my hand, and that sometimes I legitimately need my husband.  My husband came, even though he was much happier sitting on the bed listening to podcasts.  And I know that he came because he loves me.  And because he loves me, he would have covered the house in lights.  But because I love him, I surrendered.  And sometimes that's what love is.  Stupid Christmas lights.

Sacred Places

I know. You're surprised to see me back so soon. It's only been two days and last time it took almost two years. But here I am, and already I have something new to say. It is much different than what I had to say last time. Last time I talked about things silly, and life is unexpected and happy when it is silly. But today I hope you won't mind if I take this blog to a new place. Today I want to talk about things sacred.

I've been on a sort of personal pilgrimage this weekend. Matt and I loaded our girls in the car and drove to Boise, Idaho--the place where I spent the most critical of my growing up years. For those of you who know my husband Matt and have discovered his new and wonderful blog, his last post described his anticipation of this weekend, and please forgive me if the next several sentences echo some of the things he has already said.

The purpose of our trip to Boise was to take advantage of a unique opportunity to tour the Mormon temple with our children. The temple has recently undergone a major renovation. Normally our temples are not open for public tours. However, when a new temple is built or when an old temple is renovated in a significant way, our Church hosts what is called an "Open House" before the temple is dedicated to God's work. This is a chance for people who are not of our faith, as well as our young members who have not yet come of temple-attending age, to come inside and see for themselves a place that can often seem mysterious.

Matt and I were married in the Boise Temple, and so we considered this chance to walk with our young children through the room where we were married, the room where our family began, a very special and unusual opportunity. Even worth a 500 mile drive with a whiny Maryn.

I was surprised that it hadn't occurred to me until we arrived at the temple yesterday that the significance of this temple, for me, went well beyond being the place where I was married. It wasn't until I was approaching the doors for the first time in more than 12 years that I realized that this was the place of some of my earliest and deepest experiences with God.

And I found myself feeling sad that I hadn't come back to this place sooner. What if it wasn't the same? What if all of those memories were somehow linked to the mauve carpet and upholstery and that now that those things were gone, maybe my sacred place would be gone too?

Please don't be too different, I found myself hoping. Please be home still.

The lobby was gorgeous. The centerpiece was a new stained glass window behind the registration desk that depicted a beautiful nature scene with crystal leaves that reflected light beautifully. The new African mahogany wood was rich and dark and elegant.

We went through a small chapel where young people wait before entering the baptistry. So far everything was new. Beautiful, but unfamiliar to me.

I held my breath as we entered the baptistry. For some reason, of all the rooms, this was the one I wanted to recognize.

And, happily, it was familiar still. The room had been renewed, but I was not a stranger there. There was a new, expansive stained glass window in greens and blues. The benches were covered in new soft green upholstery with leaf motifs, leaves honoring the Idaho Syringa, I read in the brochure.

I saw the bench were I used to sit while I waited for my turn to be baptized on behalf of ancestors who had departed this life, claiming them, one by one, for God. And it was there, waiting patiently for my turn, where I first learned to be still. To be present. To be present enough to know God just a little bit, like a fragile green bud emerging though dark earth into the spring.

There is a scripture that says, "Be still, and know that I am God."

Be still. Be still. Be still and know.

Know.

And how I wanted to gather my young daughters onto my lap on that bench and tell them some of the things that I came to know in that place. But the room was full of people and the tour was moving on. So those conversations will have to wait for another day and perhaps for another place.

We moved on, up the stairs, past some offices and through the chapel. The leaves of the Idaho Syringa gently blanketing the carpets and the benches and running through the glass. Leaves whispering of life. Everything about the temple whispers to me of life. Of life before and life now and life to come.

Soon we were at the Bride's Room. The small room where I had prepared to marry their dad. The girls looked inside and were awestruck. "Whoa," they said. A large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and smaller crystal sconces adorned the walls, making the entire room sparkle. The room held a beautiful vanity with a large mirror, complete with a plush vanity bench. On one wall was a huge three-sided mirror with gold edging that would have been completely at home in Versailles. For my daughters it was like the ultimate dress up room, and I could tell that finding it had surprised and delighted them. I had forgotten to tell them about the Bride's Room. "It's beautiful," they said reverently.

From there we went to the Sealing Room. This is the room where temple marriages are performed. A much larger crystal chandelier than the one in the Bride's Room hangs from the ceiling. In the center of the room is a cushioned altar where couples kneel together and hold hands while the wedding ceremony is performed. Around the room are chairs for guests. On the walls on either side of the altar are large mirrors that reflect each other and symbolically show the couple going on forever. Eternal.

Again, this room was much the same as the last time I had been there. Except now it was blue and cream instead of mauve and cream. To me it seemed smaller. To Matt it seemed larger.

Sydney was upset because she wanted to see herself going on forever, and yet when she looked in the mirror she couldn't seem to see past her immediate reflection. She kept leaning from side to side, trying to see past herself. That's the tricky thing about mirrors. And about life I suppose. It's sometimes hard to see past what's right in front of you.

Next was one of several instruction rooms. It was in one of these rooms, many years ago, before I set off on my mission to Romania, that I came and made promises to God. Promises that are more than promises. Bigger. Deeper. Promises that I try to live up to every day, in spite of myself.

Such a plain room. Such a significant room.

The final stop on our tour was the Celestial Room. This is the place that symbolizes heaven in our temples. It is the most beautiful room. There are soft couches and chairs and beautiful flower arrangements. In the Boise Temple there is a new stained glass dome in the ceiling with blue glass and more Syringa flowers. And the crystals. Large crystal sconces lit up the walls all around the room. An enormous crystal chandelier hung from the center of the stained glass dome, elegant and luminous.

Everyone in the room was looking up, especially at the crystal chandelier. These are the kind of crystals that don't just reflect white light, but they pull every color inside and shoot it back out at you. Prisms of light.

In my adult life, I come to the temple to pray in the Celestial Room. It is easy to be still in such a place--quietly sitting with others who are also there to pray. Or to think. Or just to be. In a place that is full of light it is easy to be filled with light.

But the temple isn't the only place where I find God. But it is the place where I was able to quiet my soul enough to teach myself to recognize Him elsewhere. In the garden. In poems and books. In a cathedral in Paris. In the eyes of my children. In the forest, where I have claimed for myself other sacred places.

It was because of my experiences learning to know God that one day while hiking in the forest with Matt when we were dating that I was able to recognize and trust the voice that whispered that I'd found my Love.

He is yours and you are his.

And the sun came out and lit up the raindrops. Tiny prisms of light. Thousands of them.

When we left the temple Sydney put her arms around my waist and buried her head in my stomach. I hugged her to me and after a minute she looked up at me and whispered, "I loved it." And that was all she needed to say.

Later, in a quiet moment with Cora she reverently said that she had felt the Spirit in the temple. Maryn loved "those pretty lights."

Every parent wants their children to be happy. And so we take them to places where we have been happy. When they are small we take them to the park and buy them ice cream. We read them books that we loved when we were small. We take them camping. And, we take them to our sacred places, hoping that in their own way, they can glimpse what we have glimpsed.

This weekend, I was humbled to see that perhaps their own fragile green buds have begun to push through the ready earth of their tender souls. The quiet beginnings of faith.