I tried to figure out what the 15 year anniversary symbol is, but I came up with everything from crystal to rubies to watches to “anything red”. So I have decided to add my own, which is “Consolation Disappointments”. Now this takes a little unpacking, but I’m hopeful that by the time you read to the end we’ll still be sleeping in the same bed tonight!
You know this little age gap that there is between us, right? It isn’t much in the grand scheme of things, but between the two of us there is a certain generational distinction. If more recent generations were raised in a milieu of victimization and helplessness, it could be said that my generation was steeped in self esteem (the supposed solution to all the world’s woes) and told that we could do anything if we tried. My favorite book as a child was “The Little Engine that Could”, and it turns out I believed that about myself. My generation was raised to believe we could achieve it all, do it all, and solve it all.
It also turns out that I have a really potent combination of confidence-bordering-on-conceit and ambition, which means I had pretty high hopes for my life. When God called me to ministry, I did not quite abandon those ambitions, but simply re-oriented them towards this new pursuit of ministry. But here I am, past my prime, with very little to show for my efforts. You have held my hand as I stood in the morgue of my ambitions and saw the cadavers of my efforts splayed on the stainless steel table of reality. You know the effort I put into failed enterprises. You know the discouragement of plans that went awry. You saw how close I got, only to fall short again. You know the prayers which God denied, and you know that I hear the footsteps of failure dogging me, at least in my own mind.
But then, there is this other, really fascinating thing going on at the same time, which is that I have the most enviable life any man could imagine. In ways that I absolutely don’t deserve and for which, it could be argued, I have expended little effort, I have the best little family a man could dream of. How many families can have 3 generations living together in harmony? How many sons get the daily joy of seeing his parents rejoice in their children’s children? How many men awaken to a wife who loves him and children that admire him?
When I think about the woman God has given me, I feel excessively rich, to the point that if I had a thousand lifetimes to live this same life over, in not one of them would I be willing to trade the blessings of my marriage and family for the achievement of my ambitions. I would sit with you again in every hospital room we have ever occupied rather than know the rush of business conquest. I would herd those wildcats we call children every night with you rather than speak to thousands of eager listeners. I would bring you coffee every day (sometimes twice) all over again rather than obtain enough wealth to ignore the price tag on every bauble my heart desires. In every life, I would choose you. I would choose us.
So then, what to make of this strange life in which failure haunts my endeavors and yet innumerable blessings abound? Well, you know the consolation prizes they give out to make people feel not so bad about losing? I have come to see my disappointments as “consolation disappointments”, because they are so very small in comparison to my blessings. Consolation disappointments: to tame my conceit, lest I attribute the gift of a good woman to myself rather than to God. Consolation disappointments: lest other men look at my life and sink into despair or envy in comparing their own lot to mine. Consolation disappointments: lest the abundance of blessings turn me into a snowflake, incapable of withstanding the heat of life. Consolation disappointments: lest I forget the treasure of God’s gift and despise it.
In short, I thank God for fifteen years of marriage to the love of my life. Fifteen years of knowing blessings that I had never dreamed of. Fifteen years of building a family and a life together. Fifteen years of consolations disappointments, because the blessings are too big to measure. Happy anniversary, babe.
Nathan Writes 