On Marriage & Melding

Melding is a great word.  It evokes all kinds of other great appellations like blending, swirling, mish-mashing in my internal thesaurus. What?  You don't have an internal thesaurus? It's time.  Everyone needs one. It's like having a closet full of the cutest clothes options except they're word choices and your mind's the closet.  Um, perhaps somebody lives in a metaphorical world a wee bit too much.  I'm not naming names or anything. I like to cross topics quite often in my life.  You know, blur the definitive lines of food, family, job, money, faith and just twist'em all up into one.  I can't help but blame my forever metaphor mindset for this.  My noggin loves to lean into one area of my life only live out another of me in a better way.  Melding got me thinking about marriage.  Just this morning, while cleaning the inside of my washer with a Brillo pad and vinegar and using not so nice swear words and wanting to re-wash our entire closets got me thinking about forgiveness.  But, that's an entirely different dendrite deviation that we'll go on ahead and save for an another blog post, ,mmkay?  

Marriage is so freakin' awesome and so unbelievably much work.  It's taking 2 completely separate individuals with their own upbringing, genetic code, behavioral pre-sets and asking them to become one.  For the rest of their lives.  It's a job where the profits are infinitely great, and the commitment is infinitely that much greater.

So, let's make B.L.T. dip, shall we?

I've been married for a little over 11 years now.  I can honestly tell you that I was obtusely ignorant to what love in a marriage looked like in the beginning.  I certainly knew I loved Kenny Cobble.  I certainly knew whose last name I wanted to take.  But, clueless was I as to what love and melding should look like.  I can't completely speak for the coach on this one, but I would think he would be alright with me saying we were were really good at living separate lives with our own interests.  {bacon cooked and then finely crumbled}

We resisted the art of melding for a good bit. Not intentionally.  It was almost as if we thought life could move happily forward with us playing house, and yet never really taking the time to move together towards what our dreams and life together would really look like. {small bundle of chives chopped} We visited friends separately.  We pursued our different interests separately.  We gave the other little time with the busy schedules we each kept as teachers and coach.

A little over 2 years after we were married, Eli was born. {1 cup of mayo}

20 months later, Casey was born. {1 cup of sour cream}

We were chosen to be parents.  2 little ones have social security numbers and birth certificates because Someone thought we had what it took to make this world a better place with these two lives.  No longer were we completely separate.  Our love had a product:  Eli Garrett & Casey McGill.  {add 2 tomatoes peeled and chunked}

 Their arrival into our family brought us to a place of realization.  A place where the solidity of our family fell on the level of importance we placed for the love we had and shared with one another. We learned lessons the easy way and the hard. God provided us with the for better or worse.  I love that perfection is not an ingredient in love's recipe.  I love that perseverance, patience, teamwork and forgiveness triumphs over hurt every.single.time when husband and wife slap the orange trapezoid state over their heads and commit:  "I will give my all for Tennessee today."

1. Sorry.  I can't help it.
2. The metaphors are just there, people.
3. I am married to a football coach.
4. The Vols just whomped a 45-0 victory over Austin Peay this past Saturday.

Melding happens.  God has this boisterous wooden spoon and He takes such joy in the stirring.  I am humbled at the lessons we have learned from just letting Him work.  He teaches me almost daily that giving my all as Mrs. Cobble is just exactly what I am to do to help strengthen our family.  Trusting in His design for our togetherness is all that I am to do.  Likewise, for Coach Cobble.  We are continuing to learn from one another and become better seasoned through time and everyday action.  Because that's what love is.  It's action.  It's slapping the trapezoid state.  It's the tenacious commitment to never giving less than your best, and when you do, saying sorry and meaning it only to get up and try again.

Everyone's dip is different, too.  Different ingredients and different instructions along with preparation times.   No one marriage mirrors another.  Should you think your marriage should or if you find yourself caught up in the comparison game {don't think for one second we all don't get caught comparing one time or another}  you have inadvertently left the ingredient of Him out of yours.  It's natural to feel compelled to measure up or feel equal to, but we all gotta remember our own recipe to make what is best with the ingredients of us.

Melding, blending, swirling, mish-mashing.  Marriage.

I put my hand up on your hip. When I dip, you dip, we dip.

{Sorry, the homonyms got me that time.}

.mac :)

p.s.  A special thank you to Kenny's favorite dip.  I made this as a surprise for him during two-a-day football practices this past July.