Vows: 18 Days

Most of you do not subscribe to Vessel because you want to read about my gushy love for Henry. When I kicked off this blog last April, I had no intention of writing about my gushy love for Henry. I simply wanted a way back to my writing after a period of loss and transition. I wanted community and support. I wanted a weekly deadline that would force me to finish a piece of writing on a regular basis.

But I have been awake since five (a welcome change from last week’s three o’clock wake ups). Without meaning to, I dedicated most of this morning’s journal entry to drafting my wedding vows. I shed tears as I wrote. I have shed many tears over the last several days as my emotion and excitement bubble up and over the surface of my composure.

When I attended my first Macondo Writers’ Workshop in the summer of 2006, I had just returned from two glorious years in Oaxaca, a place where I felt at home, where I felt supported and creative. I wasn’t ready to be back in the U.S., but I didn’t have the resources to stay in Mexico. I cried a lot that week, especially in workshop. Sandra Cisneros, Macondo founder and my workshop leader, told me, “Right now you’re a full glass of water. Someone bumps you, and you spill over. That’s exactly where you need to be because your heart is open. Write from that place.”

I am a full glass of water. Then the glass was full of despair. Now I am emotional and sleep deprived, at turns energetic and exhausted, a bit overwhelmed by all the wedding details that have floated to the surface now that the big stuff is out of the way, and strangely confident that it will all come together as it should. (And the definition of “should” evolves as the wedding draws ever closer and I release the need to oversee the kind of pen to put with the guestbook or the ratio of solidago to zinnia in the centerpieces.) Now the glass is full of gratitude, awe, a bit of disbelief that in eighteen days I will marry an amazing man. I know, I know, I am an amazing woman, and I deserve this, and all that. But, really, this is a big deal, and I feel the kind of grateful that I did (times 1000) when I was a freshman in high school, and my parents bought me a brand new silver Benge trumpet to replace the starter instrument I’d had since seventh grade. Even after I put the mouthpiece to my lips and played a few scales and took it to band practice and back home, I couldn’t quite believe it was mine.

This blog is about writing and life, community, work and commitment. It’s also about faith. I have learned that loving, like writing, requires faith. I didn’t think I had faith. Not enough. Not the right kind. But here it is, inside me. It was there all along just waiting for me to express it. And so my glass is also filled with surprise–at discovering, after all this time, that I am more than I thought I was.

Published in: on September 13, 2011 at 11:02 am  Comments (3)  

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3 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Wonderful writing! Thanks so much for the post on life and love.

  2. The overflow of your glass fills mine too! So much abundant wine in Cana!

  3. Beautifully written! Can’t wait for the wedding details 😉

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