The Fountain Pen and the Crayon (part two)

Continued from The Fountain Pen and the Crayon (part one) by guest writer Nick Scott.  I hope you enjoy this concluding piece to our adventures in Baltimore as much as I did!

Ah the open road. . .anything can happen on a road trip. Everything is fresh, new, and filled with excitement around every turn. I have always found driving to be a passive form of amnesia. Forget where you’re going, forget where you've been. Allow the wind to whistle through open windows, let the sun shine from above and fill the cabin with music. Days like this are meant for cruising and not blind speed. 

Dear God, this is a beautiful country!

Climbing up the mountains through the clouds, we pass a scenic overlook where all we see is fog. On a sketchy road through uncivilization we seek food and fuel but only find fog.  Then the clouds break and the sun shines and suddenly we are surrounded by water—a mountain lake shimmering deep blue diamonds beneath green slopes, and boats--lots of boats. This then becomes the highlight of our drive--such an oasis of beauty could not be found on the turn pike or toll road.

Our arrival in Baltimore was without trumpetis convocation.  You see, Baltimore isn't really a roll-out-the-red-carpet kind of town. It’s more smile-and-compliment-as-you’re-stabbed-in-the-side--“Charm City” it’s called. Still though, we were together and not in Ohio for a full weekend.

Back home, my Fridays are usually spent at the corner seat of a finely established Irish bar in Dayton, Ohio. Myself, a man named Jackson, Shamu (like the famous orca whale), Rob, Whitey, our benevolent host Mr. Flanagan, and occasionally countless others all seem to cross paths on Friday afternoons. We discuss life, fullfillingly meaningless things, topics of good nature, and just enjoy the breaks from the ordinary before the avalanche of the weekend crashes down upon our heads.  Occasionally Jackie will receive a pass from the purgatory of her day job and swing in wildly like Quasimodo yelling "Sanctuary!" (*editor's note:  this is only a slight exaggeration. . .) cornering up for a Guinness with the rest of us.  Given that Friday was our only semi-full day together in Baltimore, we felt compelled to carry on our Dayton routine to settle our souls before the wedding festivities began.  I had heard from the man named after a famous whale of a place in Fells Point in Baltimore called Leadbetter's.  Since you should always follow the orders of men named after famous whales, we went off in search.  

Fells Point  is an oasis from the grime of the city. I imagine that since it is filled with countless bars, restaurants, and old television landmarks, it is populated by a decent kind of people, the kind who don’t stab you in the side, but rather smile and just steal your wallet. We walked along the water's edge enjoying each other’s company as we searched for our original destination and the purpose for our adventure to Never Never Again Land.  We found the hole in the wall called Leadbetter's only to discover that on a holiday Indy race weekend in a major metropolitan city a bar didn't open until 4pm. What manner of hysterical nonsense is this? I see the people on the loose in search of food and beverage and this place offered none. We were desperate now, our plans thwarted, time was short and we needed to act quickly to salvage our day. Back-tracking toward the car we noticed a place called Slainte on the horizon. It seemed yuppie-Irish but for sure they would have another culture's good food. We popped in, settled up to a table, and placed our order.

I must be honest, as I don’t even remember what we said or if either of us spoke. I felt we were the silence in a storm; people flying by in all directions surrounded us.  Our thoughts were on the day to come, and, distracted, I left my wallet on a bench by the water.  I realized when we had returned a half hour later to the hotel.  Sure that someone would have taken it by now, but hoping for the off-chance that it was still there, we made the thirty minute drive back to the water.  Much stress and prayer later, the wallet was found exactly as I left it.  In the 8th most dangerous city to live in, my wallet sat safe on a bench in public for over an hour--a Baltimore Miracle!  But now we were late for the rehearsal. . .

Racing downtown we were dressed to our best ready to stand in support for these two preparing for their day of celebration. I was semi-instructed to put my normal nonsense aside. We would from this point on direct our focus toward the one we would soon call Krevin. Intrigue is my only feeling this wedding eve. When it's close family or a couple you know well getting married, you understand what’s happening and in many ways it can almost be boring and uneventful. Not the joining of two as one, but the motions of the days leading up to the big day. This was different, strange being a wallflower at this lovely occasion. It was clear from my view that this evening and the next day would wrap around these two like a thick cocoon and fill them with God, love and excitement.

Is there a more beautiful setting for two people to join hands than a well sorted old church? It’s like having the home court advantage, it has to help the occasion even if only slightly. Friends and family are gathered, music is playing and it’s almost time. I must point out however that I fear some who were in attendance might focus on the heat of this sweltering August day. Was it actually heat? Or was it something greater, far beyond our understanding? I was there and I felt something else:  love. This same wedding between these two people in the middle of winter would have felt the same. I truly felt like God was warming each of our souls in attempt to share the feelings these two had for each other. 

The parties have assembled and the music has heightened--it’s time. At that moment, whatever anyone felt about the thought of “heat” was gone. Stricken instantly from the conscious mind all our focus was on the celebration. Music filled the air accompanying a liturgy that felt like a floral breeze. We should all be thankful to have savored this brief moment in time. I’m a man of top tens and this one was up there.

Ah wedding receptions, a reason for guests to be appropriately drunk. Just a short trip downstairs and we as guests were treated to what could have passed for a hidden Tuscan hideaway. Lights circled the space with laughter and smiles filling the air. A unique calm settled over those of us in attendance and we were treated to tales of each half of Krevin past. We sat, chatted, and enjoyed the most delicious dinner one could ever have. I mean that in all sincerity. Our meal felt homemade and that is something special. A homemade meal is like a lighthouse on a shoreline, it will always lead you home. I believe strongly in the power of a meal, the combination of family and friends around a table creates an impenetrable force. It reminds us of what is really important, and will always warm the soul.

I should emphasize one thing about this entire tale of nonsense, fountain pens, and drunken crayons.  It's not the sights or sounds that any of us will remember, not the words that were spoken or the delicious food we ate.  What each of us will remember is how these two made us feel.  For a few special days in August, two people were kind enough to share their love for each other with their closest friends and family.  To Krevin I say, may your days be filled with smooth seas and calm breezes.

The Fountain Pen and the Crayon (part one)

"Sometimes I use a fountain pen, other times I'm a drunk three year old with a crayon." So says Nick Scott about his writing.  The following is the first part of a series of creative nonfiction guest posts he's been working on to describe our latest adventures.  His creative prose weaves a descriptive story of our excursion to German Fest and preparation for my brother's wedding in Baltimore with a social commentary based on our everyday ponderings of the American Dream.   It began as Fear and Loathing in Baltimore, inspired by Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by his favorite author Hunter S. Thompson.  Editing was my job, and I loathed it, because it was all so good, but for the sake of brevity, I kept only the main points.   Enjoy! 

        The air is positive this day, strong and willful. Surrounded by an unflappable presence we are guarded. Strange how those around us don’t seem to notice. No time for this strong presence to be wasted on the herds. We are absorbing all greatness and through glory we would prevail.

       We can be found sitting full and fat, a glutinous mood we are enjoying. People talking, children running--are they finding enjoyment in the finer things in life, or blocking out the darkness for a quick glimpse of happiness? We are here for purpose: this is a day of exploration. Together we are finding our balance of love and togetherness. These are pigs free on a weekend pass. Slaughterhouse Monday can be spotted on the horizon and soon they’d all be butchered, sold off for another week of blood letting in corporate America.

     Gentle horn-blowing of oom-pah music rounds out the senses as we sit strong like pillars of society enjoying the fruits of Bavarian flavor. Wondrous feelings of longing and intoxication on this sunny afternoon. An effervescence of flavors sight and smell consume the conscious mind. Who has created this unique layer of festive flavor this cross between beer, almonds, sunshine, happiness and love? Our discussion swings wildly between love, displeasure in our work, and upcoming wedding travel but it's clear love is the root of the grand tree that is growing strong. We stand tall meeting the sun with our faces and march toward another location.  How will we survive this unfortunate circus? Where is the love and the longing? Is it there or here, we shall see where this journey leads and wonder how it will end.

    On the journey we often find ourselves fighting against Corporate America--where is the American dream? What has come of possibility? Today’s future is ripe with uncertainty and hopeless doubt. Many of us are told to chase that collegiate immortality and then when complete we stand before an elderly robe handing us a certificate of completion. Go forth and forge a prosperous path through a labyrinth of bottomless debt. Some manage to tackle this tower head on and come out the other side with the appearance of being unscathed. Prices will be paid with bits of the soul if not careful to maintain a sense of purpose and humanity whilst forging ones path. We see this everyday as the good or former good rise and fall with the changes of season.  Finding balance between want and need, desperation in the mind and desire in the heart I see as the ultimate challenge to survive in this new world. . . We don’t know what tomorrow will bring but we will through faith and love walk on. . .

      Our destination was Baltimore for a wedding, a joining of two souls into one. What frivolous family frolicking fun we will have. I have never attended many out of town weddings, but I understand the trauma that can befall anyone involved with an at-home wedding. I fear then that these emotions can increase rapidly the further from home one travels. My only real worry was our sanity. A human mind is a powerfully fragile thing and we were already under an increasing emotional strain. In order to protect ourselves we would need a mountain of prayer and strong defense mechanism to fall back on. Prayer is an easy and effective way of settling ones mind. It keeps us from becoming too over whelmed. Yet when suffering under the strain of what would undoubtedly be a wild family trip, sometimes the simplest defense mechanism is childish narcotics:  we had 2 pounds of gummy bears, four bars of imported chocolate, bags upon bags of mini bags of chips, and gallons of sugary sweet tasty beverages. Would more be necessary? Perhaps not but during long trips its best not to take any chances when dealing with matters of the mind.

     Route planning is important for any trip. An appropriate discretion of time must be allotted for each variable within the journey. When to leave, which direction to take, where to eat, and when to rest. Avoiding the uncommon (communist’s) states would be a priority for safe travel. I once got food poisoning from a Pizza Hut in lower Tennessee. I was discovered by friends lying near a water runoff from a nuclear power plant. Absurdity of this level would not be tolerated, and I knew it.

   We were set then--5 am Thursday morning we would depart Dayton bound for the disaster of Columbus, Ohio and The Ohio State University. Our passengers would be the best man and his keeper, Jan and Den, I call them. Our plan was to arrive early load up and be gone before the corporate zombies had time to endanger our lives by being late for work. If all goes to plan we will be out of Ohio before 10:30 am.

to be continued. . .

Two Movies

There's been a lot going on with not much time left to write here.  No worries--there will be a spectacular guest post here on our return from Baltimore.  Get excited.

For now, all I have to offer are some random nagging thoughts and observations on two unrelated movies I recently watched. . .

I watched The Hunger Games once, and then again with my parents.  Dad, who appeared to be engrossed in it, later said, "That was the stupidest movie I ever saw."  Mom asked, "Where is the entertainment value?"  I didn't have an answer, since Hollywood destroys the value in just about everything it produces these days.  I could tell from watching the movie that the book was probably better at conveying a believable setting, but still, the violence seemed over the top and unnecessary.

The whole movie is a roller coaster of emotions, as we watch the poor and powerless in society forced to sacrifice their children to a "game" where the young will fight to the death for survival (on TV--this is a TV show in their world).  There can only be one winner.  It's gruesome and violent, and so horribly difficult to watch at times, but then occasionally something good happens to redeem it, to intrigue you to keep watching.

Some characters fight only to survive, others fight to win. We see humanity in its ugliest, cruelest state.  We are dragged into the desperation of persecution in a mess of ugly, senseless violence.  In a way, it touches the human center of us all that needs to find hope in suffering.  There must be something good that comes out of this.  There is a glimmer of hope, then Hollywood ties it up in a cheap bow and baits us on for the sequel, but we are left somewhat wounded.

There is so much violence in our world, so much senseless violence and death that I don't need my "entertainment" to echo that.   I don't need a fictional story to glorify the violence, because I know that in real life, not this fictional nightmare, there is hope in suffering, and we find it on the Cross.

My dad has tried to get me to watch A Man for All Seasons for as long as I can remember.  As kids we always poked fun at him because it's not at all an exciting movie, yet he claims it's the greatest of all time.  I finally caved and watched it with him.  It tells the story of St. Thomas More, who refused to accept King Henry VIII's marriage to Anne Boleyn after the pope in Rome denied his appeal for divorce.  (This is the king's first divorce and remarriage, the one that led him to split from the Church of Rome and give himself authority over the Church of England.)

The film is witty, intellectual, thought-provoking, a little dry at times, but inspirational.  Sir Thomas firmly stands his ground, refuses to sell his soul to acquiesce the king.  As the Duke of Norfolk tries to convince Sir Thomas to take the oath to the king, he points out all the men who have taken the oath and says, "Why can't you do as I did and come with us, for fellowship!"  Sir Thomas More replies, "And when we die, and you are sent to heaven for doing your conscience, and I am sent to hell for not doing mine, will you come with me, for fellowship?"

In the end, Sir Thomas dies a martyr among spineless politicians who were willing to sell their souls to save their lives.  We are left pondering the question, "Dare we to enter the kingdom of heaven with ease when Our Lord Himself entered with so much pain?"

. . .

The Following

It's been a long week and I drive with the windows down and I hear
I'll find strength in pain and I will change my ways. 
I'll know my name as it's called again.*

The music moves and pulls me out and on and grace trickles through.
Suddenly it's clear:
when you come to know that God IS, always and forever, everything changes.

The almost imperceptible workings of grace chip away slowly at the blinders around my eyes,
and I begin to see more and more through the eyes of God.
The way of faith requires daily conversion, a choice--to choose God, to choose love, to choose life.
The choice between continuing to love Him and follow Him, or to go my own way and ignore Him.

Doubt creeps in when this self-protective heart and over-thinking mind recognize this freedom, when I realize that I could stop right here, turn to apathy and live life in comfortable indifference.

After all, no matter what I do, God will remain all-powerful, all-knowing, all-loving.  HE IS.  With or without me.  "Through it all, Love remains."**

i am, but only because of Him.  I could continue to exist for awhile without acknowledging Him, but when I took my last breath, that would be it.
We would be parted forever.

He doesn't need me, but He wants me.  He wants you.  He wants us to let Him love us.  And He calls us by name.
We try to follow, but weak and stumbling we fall.

Over and over He calls us back to Himself, and over and over we have a choice to make--to move forward or step back, to allow grace to carry us through the hard times or to determine to plunge through the hard times alone, to do all things for His glory or to do all things for our own glory.

If I am to live truly, I must acknowledge where I come from.
If I am to live fully, I must embrace Who I come from.
I must embrace the cross, and in doing so, find strength in pain.
I must change my ways, and continue falling deeper in love with the Creator, the Redeemer, the Spirit.
I must continue to center myself and my life around Him,
so that when He calls again, I'll know my name, and be ready to follow.


*Mumford and Sons, "The Cave"*
**Collin Raye, "Love Remains"**

In the Know

It began rather by accident.  Or maybe it's been building up for years and suddenly something had to give.  Either way, I stopped trying to change the world, and I started living my own life.

It goes back to about a month ago when I began to realize that caffeine was taking a serious toll on my stomach.  I said goodbye to my caffeinated love and switched from too-many-to-count cups of coffee a day to two cups of decaf herbal tea a day.

For two or three weeks there, life was brutal.  The world was against me.  I had no motivation, no energy.  Stress was mounting because I wasn't accomplishing anything and my to-do list was growing.

I gave up on working out and took to "sunshine yoga" (a more fun, more productive-sounding name for "laying out") where I lay out in the sun, soak up the rays of warm Vitamin D, and breathe deeply.  It was restful and rejuvenating.

I stopped wearing makeup.  This was partially out of laziness (but seriously, it allows for extra sleep and/or time to eat breakfast in the morning), but mostly because I'm tired of society's definition of beauty defining the way we see people.  I watched this clip and something snapped and I said, that's it.  I'm done.  I quit the makeup and accepted that my hair is an untameable beast with a mind of its own, and the world can deal with it.  God made me this way, and He loves me, and His love is all I really want.

Once I made that realization, that His love is all I want, I determined to make Him happy.  I went about it the wrong way, driving myself crazy trying to figure out how I can be like Katie Davis from Kisses from Katie.  And love reminded me that I am just me.  That the best way to make God happy is to simply be the woman He created me to be.

That doesn't mean ditching all of my responsibilities and moving to an impoverished country.  It means living every moment of every day with purpose.  It means going to work on purpose.  Dealing with broken machinery on purpose.  Helping customers on purpose.  Drinking herbal tea on purpose.  Eating my lunch on purpose.  Listening to my little sister's chattering on purpose.  Dealing with stress by tackling one simple task at a time, on purpose.

It's amazing how full life is when you look at it this way.  The days that I seem to accomplish nothing special, I've experienced something extraordinary.  I've lived each moment as it happened, and it's beautiful.

It's tricky.  I still get caught up in the rush of life and forget myself, but then I remember, and I simply come back and pick up where I left off.  I swallow my mistakes, nod in determination and keep moving forward.  I'm being proactive.  I'm learning a lot about myself, and I'm learning to see not only myself but others the way God sees us.

Sometimes I don't know what to do with myself, or I get overwhelmed with it all, or I wonder how weak and miserable me is going to get by in this crazy world, and that's when I pray.  It's in those moments that I've been discovering a simple but very real truth:  GOD IS.

He said, "I AM."  And  I believed that, but now I'm beginning to know it.  I know in my heart, in the sunshine, in the rain, in the high maintenance people, in the coffee grounds that won't go away, in the early hours of the morning when I don't want to get up and write but do anyway--I know that He is.  He never changes, He always loves.  He is.

The world is a mess, full of confusion and superficiality and meaninglessness and brokenness, but He still is.  And He still whispers to us, though we don't usually hear Him over our cell phones or Netflix marathons.  He calls to us, for us to love Him for who He is.  And He loves us for who we are.

And I don't just believe that anymore, I know it.

Convicted

In her book Kisses from Katie, Katie Davis states that Jesus wrecked her life.  I would have to say that in wrecking Katie's life, Jesus has also wrecked mine.

I have grown up in a faith-filled home, but I convinced myself that it was enough to stand firm in my beliefs in a culture that doesn't understand them.  It was as if I didn't need to go out and do what Jesus said like feeding and clothing and loving the poor.  I loved Him and He loved me and I lived in a bubble.

If I hadn't read her story, I might have continued on in this ignorance, but I read it.  And Katie's story pulled at heartstrings that were buried by protective walls of fear.  She went to volunteer for a year teaching orphans in Uganda, then ended up founding a non-profit ministry to sponsor children who couldn't afford school.  She obtained a house for her office and opened the doors to the children for studying, learning about Jesus, bathing in clean running water, and eating healthy meals.  Then a few of the girls started calling her mommy, and she began the process of adoption.  She didn't plan on any of those things happening, but she opened her heart to God's will--to His people in need--and carried it out.

The way Katie is led by her faith and her love for God is beautiful, inspiring, and convicting. I was constantly bursting into tears and wondering at how far off from truth I've been living.  Here is this young woman, practically my age, mother to fourteen, doctor, founder of an organization, mentor, feeder of the hungry--someone who has given up her previous life and the comforts of this world to not only proclaim the word of God, but also to live it.

I aspire.  But I am not Katie. I am not Mother Teresa.  I am me.  And God does not want me to pack up my suitcase and move to Africa or India.  At least, not today.

Katie often described how loving the children are that she ministers too.  She is rewarded for her work with kisses and love every day.  I look at the life I lead here in the first world and though I don't have to stitch wounds or de-worm kids or clean up dead rats, I don't have that kind of level of fulfillment from the work I do.  My attempts to be a cheerful giver in the service industry are often met with indifference or straight-up rudeness.  I can pour my heart into a mocha, serve it with a smile, and then receive a huffy, "I didn't want whipped cream on this."

Our society has become so wrapped up in this comfortable lifestyle, in getting everything we want, in living life for me.  We forget that there are people out there who don't have the basics.  They don't have food to eat, or running water to bathe in, or toilets, or roofs that keep the rain out.  They have so much more, though.  They have faith, and hearts brimming over with thanksgiving, and praise for God.

I often struggle with finding a balance.  Don't these people who think they have it all need to know God as much as those who have nothing?  Don't we all need to know God?  So how do we live this life and minister to the spiritually impoverished while also serving the poor?  Do we just ignore the high society and in doing so hope that we are leading by example?

I struggle.  I want to do more to help those in need, but stepping out of my comfort zone scares me.  Because everything scares me.  But after being convicted by Katie's story and seeing in it how much the love of God can transform us when we let it, when we suck up our fears and trust in Him, I know I can do it.  I just need to first focus my heart, soul, and mind on God.

The Wedding Party

We live in an age where marriage is constantly discredited and written off.  I hear all the time, "Oh, I don't believe in marriage."  And "You should just do what you want."  I find it ironic that in a time such as this when marriage is held in no to little regard, when people marry two or three or four times because "marriage doesn't work," everyone also suddenly wants "equal rights" for marriage.

Think about it.

Sex and children have been separated from marriage.  Sex has become a recreation, an expression, a source of "self-discovery" for teenagers who are taught birth control because "they're going to do it anyway, and we don't want them to have to face the consequences of their actions."  This is dangerously unrealistic.

Life is a series of choices and consequences.  It kills me when young girls who find out that they are pregnant claim, "I don't know how it happened."  What are they being taught in sex ed?  Are educators sugar coating the FACTS OF LIFE with condoms and oral contraceptives?  How is that educational?  Or healthy?  Teenagers learn little except that they can do whatever they want as long as they use protection.  Well why aren't they being told to protect their hearts?  Why aren't they being told that they are valuable, they have dignity, brains, and talents and their worth is not dependent on losing their virginity?  Why aren't they being told that giving someone everything they want is not how you build a relationship of mutual trust and respect?

This distorted reality of "casual," "experimental" relationships is not inspiring people to suddenly settle down into loving, committed marriages.  Nor does it teach them the value of strong marriages as the foundations for happy, well-adjusted families.  But these families are necessary to the foundation of society.

Still, I find it ironic that it wasn't until this time when marriage and family have been obscured and broken and "modernized" that there has been an incredible increase in public support for same-sex marriage.  I guess I don't understand why the same people who think marriage "doesn't work" are suddenly so intent on letting anyone take part.  It's not that I don't think same-sex couples can have loving, committed relationships, or that they shouldn't have the same rights as everyone else, it's that I hold that marriage is not even a political issue, it's a spiritual one.

Mother Teresa spoke often of the spiritual poverty of the West.  It's a lukewarm, numbed down, "believe in anything and stand for nothing" kind of spiritualism.  Because I stand for things that make people uncomfortable (i.e. life vs. abortion, the traditions of my faith, the awesomeness of nuns, marriage, natural family planning) I am often seen as a close-minded, heartless, judgmental bigot.

Which is funny, because I'm actually a very understanding person.  Just because I believe these things doesn't mean I judge people who don't.  It doesn't mean I don't have the reason and the heart to see where other people are coming from and learn to understand why they think the way they do.  I only ask that I receive the same respect.

So when I say that I believe in marriage, that I don't believe in divorce, that I believe marriage is between a man and a woman, that I don't believe marriage is a magical spell that binds people together happily ever after, that I believe it is not to be entered lightly because it is not a walk in a park but a road to salvation, I say it from my heart, not from my Catholic cradle as a mindless recitation of old-school traditionalist beliefs that were shoved down my throat.  These beliefs come from the heart of an educated woman who has had a lifetime encounter with Christ via Catholicism, which she accepted fully only after coming into a fuller understanding of it, its traditions, and its teachings.

I also don't spout my beliefs as a holier-than-though preacher (God knows I am far, far from perfect), but as a person who loves people and desires the greatest good of all humanity.  I believe Jesus shows us what true humanity and true freedom are.

I believe that we are all destined to communion with God, which is why I love weddings.  I believe that weddings are the earthly taste of the love and glory we will find in heaven.  Yes, in a way, I believe that heaven is one giant, never-ending wedding reception, but not the kind we have here on earth (I do hope there's an open bar. . . ;-) ).  I believe it is the marriage of Christ and His Bride, the Church, the wedding feast of the Lamb.  It is something spectacular and glorious beyond all human imagination, but something we receive a taste of at every Mass, and at every wedding.

In heaven, there are no lonely bridesmaids drinking the night away with drunken groomsmen, wondering when it will be their turn.  The bridesmaids and groomsmen are the angels (this may not be theologically correct, but my friend Angie and I like to think that it is).  There are no women abused verbally, physically, or emotionally.  There are no adulterous encounters to tear families apart.  There is only God in all His Glory and endless Mercy, loving us unconditionally.

What we experience of this union on earth is imperfect, and corrupted by our sinfulness, but it is a taste of what we hope for.  At a wedding, we watch the groom's face light up with love and anticipation as the woman he loves processes down the aisle toward him.  It's the same love and anticipation Christ has for us as He waits for us in heaven.  The aisle to heaven, however, is not covered in rose petals scattered by our niece in a sparkly dress.  It is lined with roses and thorns, sickness and health, suffering and joy, good times and bad.  It is narrow, but, thankfully, we don't have to walk it alone.

God said, "It is not good for man to be alone," so he gave man a woman.  Together they sinned, he banished them from paradise, and then he sent his Son to give up his own life in order to redeem them.  We are all called to follow Christ's example, to lay down our lives for one another, to pour out our lives for one another.  Some of us are called to do this in marriage, but marriage isn't supposed to be easy--it is a way to salvation.  The wedding represents the ultimate goal of heaven, and the joyful union we'll find there.  The marriage, the life of "happily ever after" is the walk down that really long, narrow aisle--but waiting there at the end is our first and forever truest love, Jesus Christ.

The best part is that God does not abandon us during this journey.  He sends loving family and friends, as well as the Holy Spirit to be with us and guide us along the way so we can enter eternal life with him.  That's why, even when we make mistakes, even when we hurt and deny him, even when the going gets tough and we feel like he doesn't see us anymore, even when the life we planned with him doesn't turn out at all the way we dreamed it would and we want to just give up, He still loves us.

Marriage (any vocation for that matter) requires that we first die to ourselves and give of ourselves freely, totally, faithfully, and fruitfully all the days of our lives.  And when our lives on earth are over, we get to enter heaven, where there will be an epic party to celebrate.