We Got Married!

I sat on the bed, wondering what in the world had just happened. In a few minutes, over a few passing hours, something incredible and scary and wonderful happened. And as I sat there, the thought ran through my jumbled mind: now what? 

What happened? 

We got married! 

The adventure continued as the life-in-the-middle guy, and this life-in-the-middle gal finally said I do to each other in front of precious family and friends.

But as I sat there, thoughts jumbled around. I had been waiting for this day for so long, some for the obvious reasons of finally living in the other house, others not so obvious. We were ready to move forward together. We dreamed of doing things, but we had to live in the same house, eliminate the drive the separated our two homes for so long.

Summer. Not only are the kids home for the summer, but Russ works from home, too. So when I’m also working at home, which is often, we’re all home all.the.time. And with our big house, there are even moments when we’re all hanging upstairs in Russ’s office. A little 12×14 room. On my old bed. Just hanging together.

Who.am.I?

Oh, wait, and then there’s the breakfast thing. Yeah. Remember how I don’t like to cook? Oh wait, maybe you didn’t know that.

I don’t really like to cook. I mean, you take all this time to create a beautiful meal. I mean, it’s an absolute l a b o r of love, and what happens? 

I don’t like this.

This tastes weird.

Four swallows, and I’m done.

All within 15 minutes.

So why bother cooking?

But then there’s the breakfast thing. Yeah, so I make breakfast in the morning for me, of course. Russ is working, so the guilt monster jumps on my back. You know you should make him something, too. Ah yes, so I should . . . not. I don’t do that, remember? The guilt monster snickers. I really hate when he does that. He snickers because I think he knows better than I do. Well, at least I think he thinks he knows better. Because at first, I cooked out of guilt. If I’m making some eggs, I can easily add a couple of more.

The first time I did this, I made breakfast, plated it and everything, and . . wait for it . . . I even walked it upstairs to his office and set the plate in front of him. As I put the plate down, I looked at my husband and said, who am I?

I had actually worried about this question – who am I – long before the day I said I do. I worried about what this new person would be like – this Kim Findlay. I had lived with a different name, a different identity for so long that I wasn’t sure who this new person was going to be.

From FB post:

So I’m sitting here about to head to breakfast with my husband, reflecting on our day yesterday.

My heart is full.

I wasn’t sure what I expected today, waking up as his wife. This big epiphany? I’d have transformed into someone new I didn’t know yesterday?

I’m learning to embrace this truth about me – God has already been creating something new in me for quite some time. Perhaps my entire life. And today? Well, today I’m still me. Yes, my name has changed, but I’m still me –a goofy, often insecure life-in-the-middle, simple, & unassuming woman who has been healed in ways I never expected. I’m learning that my identity doesn’t come with the last name I carry. It comes with being a forgiven, loved, & cherished daughter of the King.

The icing on the cake? The extra blessing God gifted to me? I get to be his wife & carry his name for the rest of my days. And that is further evidence of God’s lavish love for me.