Happy Birthday, Todd!

A couple of years ago, on Todd's 31st birthday, I created a list of 31 things I love about him. I read it again this morning and yep, all still true (even the little Ashland shorts). This man I get to love turns 33 today, and specifically in the light of what I've learned about him during these last two hard years, I'd like to add to the list.

32. Never, not one time, not in the deepest places of grief, or when the very air between us crackled with helpless rage, has Todd communicated to me with words or actions or looks that he blames me for our pregnancy losses. Grieving together has not been easy. We have failed each other. He fights his temptation to withdraw while I desperately try not to lash out. We have tried avoidance, circling carefully around each other, hoping just to avoid brushing up against the raw places. We have moved closer, using our bodies and our words to cover the wounds, pressing hard to stop the bleeding. The ebbs and flows of this dance have been painful and beautiful. But every time he glimpses me bowed low from carrying this shame of a body broken, this certainty that he finds fault with me, these trembling "if you had known, would you have married me?" fears, he lifts my chin, looks at me straight with those blue-grey eyes, and tells me again: there is no shame here.

33. Grief can suffocate. It can feel oppressive and hot and damp. It can make the four walls of our home and our marriage and my heart feel like they are closing in on me. And always, always, always, Todd offers spaciousness. One of my favorite images of salvation is from Psalm 18, God bringing me into a spacious place, a wide-open field as The Message describes it. In C.S. Lewis' The Last Battle, Aslan summons the children to follow him "further up and further in" and the deeper they go into his new world, the wider it becomes. In all the ways marriage is a dim reflection of God's covenant with us, this may be the clearest understanding marriage to Todd has given me of what God is like. Todd creates, around us, and around everybody he loves, a wide-open space. He makes room. There has been room in our marriage for me to grow up, to discover my passions, to try new things, to engage new ideas, to become (or to be becoming) more fully alive. In this last year and a half, he has created so much room for me to heal, to process, to shake my tiny fists at the heavens. He never forces answers on me or rushes me through the hard parts. Maybe most importantly, he never sets himself up to be the source of my hope or healing. Todd points me to Jesus. Sometimes just by stepping out of the way when I try to make him the center. If that's not reason enough to love a man, you know?

Happy birthday, beloved. Here's to another year of further up and further in.