the mysticism of marriage and snow

Back in Texas I had a friend who drove her children northward for three hours to get to some snow because she wanted them to have the experience of throwing snowballs and making a snowman. They'd never seen snow before and that was the closest it got.

When we first moved to Colorado, we were very excited about the coming winter and surprised by the moans and groans we heard from the Colorado natives. They were not as enthused about the impending snowy season at all. Why not? we wondered.

The first snow came and I still remember getting up in the middle of the night and noticing a soft glow coming through the window. I raised the blinds and my eyes grew wide. Everything was white and sparkling. It was beautiful. The new blanket of snow muted the sounds of the neighborhood and created a quiet peacefulness. It was magical.

Then the blizzards came.

At first, it was exciting and amazing. It was a nice break in our routine and allowed for some bonding between neighbors as we dug out together. We never lost power and had plenty of food so it was kind of fun. And the sledding couldn't have been better.

It's been snowing for almost seven weeks now. Not a typical Colorado winter at all, and we have about four months left until spring. Snow may be pretty to look at, but sooner or later you're going to have to drive in it. And walk in it. And put layers and layers of clothes on each child to allow them to play in it and then take off all those layers and layers of clothes when they come in after spending five minutes outside.

And you have to shovel it.

You may see where I'm going in the snow/marriage analogy.

I recently read an article where the author said it made her sad to see used wedding dresses hanging in resale shops. She thought it was a sign that marriage wasn't viewed as being as mystical as it once was.

I could see her point. I can recall how I felt about it as a little girl and even as a young woman. The fantasy of having a man who treasured me and would want to share a home with me and our many, many babies. He would think I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and never glance another woman's way.

I still remember the feeling of being newly engaged. Wearing the sparkly ring and having everyone ask about it. Making plans for the wedding. Picking out the snowy white dress with sequins and pearls.

And now it's coming up on our ninth aniversary. We've weathered a few blizzards: babies, bills, jobs, moves, family disputes. But I'm fortunate to have married a man who has surpassed all my expectations and encouraged me to be myself. For us, the good has far outweighed the bad.

So to me, marriage is still mystical. A covenant bond between my husband, myself, and God. And when I look at our boys, I never cease to be amazed. The blend of him and me in their little faces and bodies. Biological and magical at the same time.

So even when there's shoveling to be done, it's always worth it because the sledding can't be beat. And when it gets cold, we can warm ourselves by the fire and sip some hot chocolate with lots of tiny, sweet marshmallows.