What We Hope For

When I said, “I do,” on my wedding day, I had no idea what was up ahead. I only knew what I hoped for; to be understood, to be cherished and not abandoned. Did I get what I wanted? Yes, I did, and a whole lot more. But these hopes did not come to fruition all at once, on their own, not in the way I thought, and not according to my timeline. But, I stuck with those hopes while learning a few things along the way.

What I Learned 

First of all, in order for my husband to understand me, I first had to understand him. After saying, “I do,” it didn’t take long for me to realize that we didn’t think in the same way about the same things. As elementary as this concept is, it was a difficult one for me to accept. 

Before I understood how differently we perceived the same thing we weathered some distressing disagreements, strained silence and extensive exasperation toward each other. Yet, it was only by sticking with our discomfort of learning how to understand each other that we could understand each other. 

Now, after more than forty years of marriage, when we discuss vacation plans, projects around the house or even the grocery list, we both know that without a doubt, our perceptions will differ. Consequently, instead of disagreements, silence and exasperation we can now knowingly smile at  our differences.

Concerning my longing to be cherished; my husband-to-be expressed his admiration for me long before we were married, but I was wrapped up in my own fears to see or believe it. 

By the time I met my husband-to-be, childhood trauma had had its way with me. I was inundated with mistrust and had built a bastion around me. And yet, he pursued me, proposing three times over the course of a year or two. Eventually, I was convinced. He was genuinely in love with me. In time and with continued patience on his part, I now believe wholeheartedly in his love for me. I know beyond any shadow of doubt, I am cherished.  

The worry of being abandoned, I learned, was left over residue from the childhood trauma of my father’s suicide. As a kid, I’d adopted the thinking that if one person you love can leave you then any person who loves you can leave you. 

One day, my husband lovingly told me, “I am not your dad,” breaking the spell and setting me free from the worry of being abandoned. 

Why Bother? 

Why bother sticking with what we hope for? Our hopes, unlike wishful thinking, require us to participate, listen and believe that those desires on our hearts are worth sticking with. 

P.S.  I wrote the story of my journey to forgiveness for those who, like me, want to put order to the scattered pieces of our lives. You can find A Heart’s Journey To Forgiveness at Redemption Press and Amazon.