i carry your heart with me
As a child, then as a teenager, I went through various phases of things I wanted to be. I wanted to be a singer on a stage in front of a crowd. I wanted to be a writer of books. I wanted to be a traveler of the world. I wanted to be a fairy godmother (my “Cinderella” tape was my favorite). There are lots of others, and several of them overlapped, and some still do. However, one particular ambition of mine that permeated all the others was to be the wife of a good man. Now that I’m four very short weeks away from the fulfillment of this desire, some recurring thoughts tend to swirl around in my head. Here are a couple of the big ones:
1) Holy cow (I’m about to be a wife. I want to be good at it).
2) I miss my mom (I wish she could be there. She would have loved Kevin).
Now, I know it’s possible that a lot of people think this about their own parents. But as far as I understand it and recognize it, I think my mom was an example of a great wife. Everything I’ve learned in my life about human nature, relationships, and men, tells me that a woman like her would do to her husband “good and not evil all the days of her life” (Proverbs 31:12). Since I want to delight my man, to the max, I will crave sources of wisdom to guide me in accomplishing this goal. I know a huge source for me will be my knowledge, via memories, of my mom.
Here are some of the truths of Lyn Schumm I sincerely hope were instilled in me as a result of “watching her work” as a wife:
She trusted my dad completely (Love always trusts - 1st Corinthians 13:7).
She respected my dad and that respect wasn’t contingent on her emotional state or the presence or absence of an imperfection in him. It also was definitely not because she was a pushover (she was generally strong-willed and tenacious). She spoke highly of him, admired him, and revered him in a very sweet and natural way.
She had a great sense of humor. She thought my dad was hilarious (he is, of course). She loved to laugh, and would do silly, sometimes ridiculous things to evoke laughter from us. She was also a prankster (I know for sure I inherited that one).
She was adventurous. She was seemingly always coming up with fun outings for our family and planning vacations (even taking my brother and I on a few, just the three of us, when my dad couldn’t get away).
She was mushy and lovey-dovey with my dad. It might have grossed me out at the time, but now that I’m an adult I couldn’t appreciate my parents’ passion more. 15+ years into marriage they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. I remember this being ongoing, in sickness and in health. This is one of the reasons why I take what people say about the romance “fading” in marriage with a grain of salt. I just know what exists and what is possible because I saw it with my own eyes.
My dad was her hero. She actually told me this, a lot. I don’t blame her because my dad excelled at all of his different roles, whether it was being her best friend and partner, being her tireless nurse, being the breadwinner, or just being a “rock” for the family. But I’ve always thought it would be important to view my husband with starry eyes in a similar fashion (on purpose, I, too, found someone who is extremely easy to view this way).
She was eager to grow. I heard my parents pray together every morning before they started their day. I saw my mom reading her Bible, taking notes, highlighting things, daily, for years. She gracefully accepted and provided criticism. She was introspective, open-minded, softhearted, and humble.
She was brave. This I heard consistently from family friends, relatives, doctors, nurses, casual acquaintances. She was terminally ill most of the first 14 years of my life, yet all of the above memories I have of her, and so many more, originate from during that same time.
I look at this whole list and it’s hard for me to believe I could ever excel at all of these. However, I’m incredibly grateful that, for the first 14 years of my life, I got the chance to observe someone who did. I think it will help.
I appreciated this line from a poem recently while pondering my upcoming wedding, and subsequent life as a married woman, knowing how acutely her absence will be felt.
“i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)”
— E.E. Cummings
In conclusion, here are some cool pictures my dad let me have last time I visited home:
origamiaround
titsay
2087
baratheonpilled
janainaart
andulkaphoto