Our Canoe Trip Called Marriage

11 years ago, on May 26th, my handsome, holy husband and I became one and began our journey of marriage. It continues to be an adventurous journey! :) The analogy that came to mind as I pondered writing this post was an image of a couple in a canoe, floating down a river. At times they drift along smoothly with breathtaking scenery all around, full of awe, humbly wondering why God chose to bless them with such perfect bliss. Other times, roaring rapids threaten to break their boat, and the couple clings to one another in fear, trying to avoid the biggest rocks, hoping they will survive. Still other times the couple finds themselves choosing to sit on opposite ends of the canoe, self-absorbed, disillusioned and unaware that a waterfall is looming up ahead and the only way to escape is if they reconcile and paddle together. A time or two he and she plunge over the falls; they use every ounce of their strength to help each other stay afloat and to climb back into the boat, a bit bruised but wiser and stronger after they heal. Perhaps you can relate?

To go along with the waterfall analogy I found the above photo which brings back a wave of warm memories for me. My husband and I are standing on the edge of one of the largest waterfalls in the world--Gulfoss Falls in Iceland. Paul was stationed in Iceland for a Navy deployment while we were courting. How I loved courting! It was the most beautiful courtship--more romantic than my hopelessly romantic mind could have even dreamed up myself. It was pure, holy, and ever so sweet. I was a freshman at a "pseudo"-Catholic college (as in, very liberal, although I didn't know that until I got there) called Creighton University in Omaha, Nebraska. Paul was Navy lieutenant and a pilot, protecting our country and flying P-3s around the globe, stationed in Brunswick, Maine at the time. The previous year when I was a senior in high school I made a pilgrimage to Medjogorje, and on top of Apparition Hill, where the Blessed Virgin Mary had a appeared to some Croatian children, I made a deal with God (dangerous, I know). I sincerely asked God to send me a Christian husband during my freshman year in college, a man who also had a devotion to the Blessed Mother; otherwise I would start seriously discerning a vocation to the religious life. Becoming a cloistered nun was an idea that I flirted with from time to time, but I couldn't tell if that was truly God's will or simply my own. I was soon to find out, for God honored my request.

I was home for Christmas break during my freshman year when I received a surprising phone call from my older brother Steve. Steve said a classmate of his, Paul, might be calling me to ask me about my trip to Medjugorje because he was very interested in Marian apparitions and would love to hear more about my pilgrimage. "Neat," I thought to myself, for I loved sharing about my Medjugorje experience and loved talking about religion in general to anyone who would listen :) Sure enough, the phone call came and my heart was never again the same.

After Christmas break, Paul went back to Maine, soon to be deployed to Sicily, and I returned to college with my head in the clouds. We began writing and emailing almost daily, sharing thoughts on theology, slowly sharing bits of our hearts, quickly falling in love from afar. Whenever I would get a letter from him, I would run out of my dorm room, down the stairs to the chapel to read my letter in the presence of Jesus in the tabernacle. And I would read it over and over again, and then I would look towards Jesus and ask, "Is this him, Lord? Is he the answer to my prayer on top of that hill? Can this really be happening to me? Please, Lord, if this is not going to work out stop it now so that I will still have a heart left to give to another if that is Your will." The letters kept coming and soon my heart was no longer my own.

One of my favorite memories was our first date. Our courtship was mainly from a distance, courting through the written word. So when Paul came back to South Dakota over my Spring Break for the first time after our letter-writing began, it felt like a huge moment...one that would either end our courting or inspire us to continue our long-distance romance. We decided to meet at morning Mass and then go out for bagels afterward. I arrived at Mass first, I knelt and "tried" to pray (unsuccessfully because I was so stinkin' nervous). Then I saw the man who unknowingly carried my heart walk in. I watched him genuflect to Jesus and bless himself with holy water. His hair was dark and curly; he wore a brown leather Navy-issued flight jacket; he came into my pew and knelt. And I prayed with all my might that he wouldn't hear my beating heart that was about to jump out of my chest. I remember thinking to myself, "There is no way this is going to work. I'm dreaming if I think this man would fall for me. He's hotter than hot. I'm not. I'm just a simple South Dakota girl, so young, so naive. He's a Navy pilot who has traveled the world and could have any bride under the sun. Wake up, Maria. Why would he ever settle for me?" But much to my disbelief, the dream kept coming true.

The following Spring we canoed out to a tiny island in Maine where Paul proposed to me and I said yes with a thousand kisses. Soon after we posed for this spectacular picture in Iceland. We were so completely twitterpated, so blissfully unaware of what rapids or waterfalls lie ahead. We married a year later in the month of May in honor of our Blessed Mother who brought us together. We thought that love would get us through everything the world could throw our way. And you know what, we were right. But is was a different love than I had imagined. It was not the dreamy kind of love that carried us through; if we had clung to the that twitterpated kind of love our boat would have capsized long ago...in fact, it nearly did...more than once. But "He Who is Love" kept our marriage afloat. And now look at us...4 job changes, 4 moves, 4 children on earth, 3 waiting in heaven, and 11 years later...our canoe still intact despite facing some rapids and waterfalls along the way. And I hope God grants Paul and I many more years to travel together in this canoe called marriage :) Anniversaries are for remembering the journey, for reminding ourselves that we would say yes to jump in the canoe all over again, and that the spouse beside us in the boat is the perfect one for the trip :)

Thank you, Paul, for choosing me to be your canoe companion, for not throwing me overboard when I probably deserved a dunking, and for captaining our boat towards Christ through both the calm and the turbulent waters all these years. I love and respect you more than you know.