Today, September 3, 2018, my husband and I celebrated our second wedding anniversary! Last year around this time, I wrote a blog post, “My First Year as a Second Wife,” in which I shared what our first year had been like, writing from the viewpoint of a second wife. (My husband’s first wife passed away in 2015.)
This year, however, I’m writing from a slightly different perspective. Though I am Joe’s second wife, it is only my second year in which to be a wife.
This year our focus—and therefore, our perspective—changed. We chose to be intentional about spending time living out the priorities of our home, repurposing things around the house to make it our house, and setting aside blocks of time that would allow us to strengthen our relationship and our relationships with others.
And it’s been an amazing year! We have stumbled over our self-focused efforts. We have triumphed at our others-focused victories. We have shed tears, had long talks about hard things, and laughed till the tears of joy momentarily blinded us. We have learned what works, what needs to be done differently, and what we should set aside as something not worth working at.
We have tried new recipes (and by we, I mean I). We have thrown out burned meals, been in a we-have-chicken-too-often rut, established some household favorites, and eaten out more than we probably should have.
I have learned more about airplanes and flying in the last two years than I ever knew was possible. My loving, caring, and generous husband has cheered on my favorite football team (Go, Irish!) and even knows what the players are doing on the field…sometimes even before the referees make the call!
We have come to realize that a new season of life isn’t something that has to be explained, tiptoed around, or even apologized for. It’s to be enjoyed. It’s a gift. A gift from God, no less, and therefore, we must use the gift of our togetherness as good stewards. Cherishing, utilizing, maximizing, enjoying, investing every moment of every day, of every week, of every month, of all of our tomorrows.
We have learned to encourage one another, lovingly admonish one another, and practice a level of patience that can only spring from hearts of love. We have chosen to remember that sometimes silence wins, while at other times, we must say the hard things—both instances finding their roots in those same hearts of love.
We still go on dates. We hold hands basically all the time. We kiss in the kitchen. We come up with new and exciting adventures. And we have fun. We enjoy the element of our companionship on a daily basis.
We read, learn, and study, and we share with each other what we are reading, learning, and studying. And through our own growth, we bring more to the table, allowing us to grow as a couple.
We pray in ways I hoped we would. We seek to use our God-given skills and abilities, acknowledging that we will answer to God for how we used them. We encourage, praise, and clap for each other. I want him to succeed, and I do so because he wants the same for me.
We’re a work in progress. But we’re together. Moving forward. On our knees.
We are blessed to have each other in this season of life.
And we are grateful.
It is a fact of flight that all weather—good or bad—affects flying; therefore, all flying involves weather. In my early years of learning to fly planes (before I started flying for the airlines), my weather-flying experience was “fair-weather flying”: clear skies and no rain, snow, icing, or turbulence. As my career with the airline began, I also began to experience many different weather conditions while flying the plane, particularly because I flew in the US Northeast.
When flying in stormy weather, the pilot’s faith and trust are exercised—faith in his or her own training, experiences, and knowledge of procedures, along with trust in airplane systems (for example: weather radar, deicing and anti-icing systems, and powerful engines). The goal for the flight crew is to fly around or above the storms.
Earlier this month I had the “difficult privilege” to get to speak to the ladies’ Sunday school class at my church. I call it a difficult privilege because it’s hard to learn the lessons before you have the knowledge needed to teach them to others. It’s a privilege, however, to get to share what God has been and still is teaching me!