What I've Learned in Seven Years

Today, my husband, Cody, and I honor our 7 year anniversary. This morning, I looked at our engagement pictures and wondered if we still look the same. Rather than actually search for the answer, I changed my train of thought, perhaps in an effort to run from the truth. Of course we don't look the same! Seven years, nine moves, six states and three kids later, we can only hope to resemble our pre-married selves! Over the past seven years I've managed to glean a bit of wisdom...call it the fruit of our crazy, chaotic, joyful life.

1. Change happens.

It doesn't matter where you are right this second...whether you are eager for a transition or happy and content, the page is on the verge of turning, poised to reveal life's next chapter. Resistance is futile. Ultimately, change is an opportunity to explore both my external world and my internal emotions. As I let go of whatever makes me anxious, unsure or hesitant about the situation, I learn to breathe deeply and take it whatever life has to offer...at a given moment in time.

2. A storage unit is only delaying the inevitable.

Why do we always seem to have too much stuff, yet I am on a daily mission to purge? Neither of us are collectors. We rarely save pictures of our own kids (Bad parents, or good teachers of the "living simply" concept? You decide.)! Yet, the stuff continues to accumulate. Early in our marriage, we discovered the convenience of storage units and jumped on the bandwagon. Now, the stuff just follows us around. If I were to do it again, I would NEVER rent a storage unit. It's just a downward spiral waiting to happen. Much like a mortgage, it never goes away.

3. Roots can run wide, as well as deep.

I never imagined that I would live more than ten minutes away from my entire family (siblings included). My parents are in Scottsdale. I have a sister in Los Angeles, another sister in Yuma and brother exploring paradise in Hawaii. Cody's parents are in Scottsdale as well. I used to think that physical presence was the ONLY answer to my need for family ties. While we would love to have everyone move to Denver, I have learned that roots grow just as ferociously wide as they do deep. Of course, without a strong marriage, I would probably think otherwise.

4. Simple celebrations are still celebrations.

We aren't big "celebrators." I often think of how fortunate we are to have each other in this regard. Had I married someone who felt the need to commemorate every occasion with a gift, a party, or even a song, I would be in serious trouble. The same goes for Cody. A toast at dinner, a simple walk in the park or an extended chat on the front porch can be just as much a celebration as a big shin-dig. Having said that, we aren't opposed to a big shin-dig every once in a while.

5. What you do is more important than what you think or how you feel.

This lesson is a good one and we try to teach it to our children every day. Given the condition of our world, the faltering economy and the tendency of man to let people down (just to name a few examples), it's easy to feel pretty negatively about a myriad of situations. That's fine, until your behavior starts reflecting that emotion. Just because my children feel angry or frustrated doesn't give them the right to smack me! Actions can even change your attitude. Rather than allowing the way we feel to impact the way we act, we try to allow the way we act to impact the way we feel. Doing so diffuses many potential blowups and allows for a happy marriage.

6. Marriage doesn't change people, it just gives them the freedom to be honest.

Do I hear a resounding, "Amen, Sista!"? It amazes me that Cody was the same person before I married him that he is today. I don't doubt the fact, I'm just shocked that I didn't know. I thought I knew him pretty well, but marriage gives people an unrestricted license to be honest. This is by no means a negative. I've seen a vulnerability and gentleness that I didn't see before. Each passing year is like the peeling of an onion. I can't see who I wake up next to tomorrow.