Too often we take the gift for granted; chalking up the bumps and valleys we encountered yet overcome as our own ability to not only survive, but to thrive. We pat ourselves on the back and prepare ticker-tape parades to celebrate the positives; a welcome distraction to those cavernous pits of negative that pock mark the path in our rear view mirror.
As we buckle in and prepare for the next journey around the sun; our focus is so often jaded. We float in that undetermined space between 'the end' and 'what's next'; targeting our trajectories on the wonderfully sunlit positive potential; glancing ever-so-briefly {if even at all} at the pot holes.
And they're there, those pot holes. Occasionally, they're right out in the open; but more often disguised until the last minute; intent on jarring one off course. The potential in these divots is one we often brush aside; ignore; don't take into consideration as we work our way down the path. Partly ego, partly pride, partly optimism; but almost all of it is because we just don't see them coming.
What if we did, though? Would we keep on going? Would we willingly submit ourselves to potential disaster, the outcome of which completely unknown?
Reflecting back some years--a baker's dozen, in fact--to a moment on a New Year's Eve that marked the merging of two individual paths, I find myself asking that of the man whose path melded into mine.
The precipice of potential gleamed alongside the shiny diamond solitaire nestled in the ring box as my instantaneous boyfriend-turned-fiance spoke into a microphone in front of hundreds of featureless faces that encircled a suddenly empty dance floor. The symbol of this ring, an endless circle representative of love and commitment soon adorned the third finger of my left hand as we basked in the glow of what 'could be'.
What if we had a glimpse, though? What if in that intangible time between 'we'll see' to 'we will', we had a glimpse of the path; the highs, the lows, the blessings, the bumps, the potholes?
Would we still?
Would we have planned and arranged and registered, knowing what these last eleven and a half years of marriage have brought?
Would we have written vows that bore a striking similarity in phrasing, theme, and verbiage; and then shared them with a hundred-plus of our family and friends?
Would we have packed a U-Haul to the gills and trail-blazed for a destination nestled in the shadows of the Rocky Mountains without the comfort of family and familiarity nearby?
Would we have signed for a mortgage and upgraded vehicles to accommodate an unanticipated need for a car seat before we had even celebrated one year of marriage?
Would we have spent years growing our family and planting roots to then make the decision to uproot and move south?
What if we saw the potholes of a shutting down of a wife. Of a breakdown of communication. Of infidelity. Of lies. Of deceit. Of heart shattering. Of questioning the future of the marriage. Of the frequent use of the word and idea of divorce. Of the counseling and the fighting and the tears and the uncertainties and the fear and the distrust. Of the brokenness.
What if we saw all of those things in those brief nanoseconds of time that elapsed between the enunciation of his question and the teary, elated nod of acceptance? Would we have continued anyway? Would he have taken it all back? The vulnerability of his speech in front of hundreds of strangers, the money thoughtfully spent by a college senior on a ring instead of a round {or...many rounds}? Would he rather have explored his new home state a bachelor; hiking trails, climbing peaks, and sampling microbrews in his spare time off the rigs? Would he have knelt before me on that dance floor in anticipation knowing one day he'd be towering over me in anger? Would he have encircled my finger with a ring, knowing that a decade later, it would be sitting in our safe; unworthy of resting upon the hand of someone who would shatter his heart into countless pieces? Would he have welcomed me walking toward him down the aisle knowing one day we'd be walking away from one another, mere cohabitants of the same house? Would the sight of the potholes have veered him off course? Taken him to a place where I wasn't?
Would he still?
Of course, it's easy to say that without that kneel, without that speech, without that ring; 3-almost-4 children we've created and raised together would not be; and who can imagine a life without that immense blessing?
But aside from that. Not to discount our children, but to focus on the source. Would he still, would I still, would we still...if on that New Year's Eve thirteen years ago, we could jump ahead to this New Year's Eve. To glance in this rear view mirror over the last year {or even two} of discovered pot holes and sparingly few ticker tape parades. Would the foundation still be poured out; the cement of a life lived in union be risked at the guarantee of bumps and swerves and those big, gaping potholes.
It's hard to disassociate myself from the family we've created {and are still growing} to make a definitive response to the 'what if'; however as I close out this year, I find myself more reflective and introspective. Filled with more joy and gratitude. I find myself knowing that even if he 'wouldn't still', I would have; and regardless of the what if's; we did. We did and we hit bumps and we stumbled and we hit pot holes and we fell. But we did. And, while we don't ever know what pot holes may await; I know that we have been strengthened in the breaking. We have scar tissue over wounds that proves that the ring; the symbol of endlessness; has yet to claim us as victims. We did, we still, and we will.
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