Sunday at church I talked to my friend Lillian, who will be 94 years old this Saturday. She was not feeling great, and I said, “Well, I’m glad you are able to be here.”
She answered, “So am I. But let me tell you—it was quite a project!”
This is interesting to me because I’m thinking of changing my blog to focus on my projects. Some projects are for a day, some for a lifetime.
My biggest project ever is my husband Steve. In fact, this was his suggestion, including that he’s my on-going project. Perhaps so. He’s certainly changed a lot since we met as freshmen at David Lipscomb College, now Lipscomb University, in 1962. I saw him as country and unsophisticated (as though I weren’t the same!) and he saw me as a “stuck-up snob.” But we were thrust together at assigned chapel seats and in three classes where alphabetical seat assignments put Boyd and Bradley side by side.
If there’s anything we’ve both learned from those early experiences, it’s not to judge by appearances. We couldn’t see each other’s heart for a long time, but once we broke through that barrier, we found that we had more in common than we had thought.
Steve no longer wears white athletic socks with his suits and I don’t wear t-strap shoes. We’ve bowed to each other’s desires in fashion and many other ways. Here’s a poem I wrote for Steve over 25 years ago, which today is truer than ever. So you may wonder—who was the project here, after all?
I didn’t want you to rescue me.
you didn’t fit my plans for my life.
I wanted to climb my own mountains,
slay my own dragons,
break magic spells all by myself.
Then there you were–awkwardly fitting armor,
lacking in gentlemanly graces,
moody, even childish, in your demands on my life.
And I succumbed, yielding to your persuasive powers,
drawn by your presence,
intrigued by your demands.
How can I be so happy in
being what I never planned to be,
doing what I never intended to do,
in a place I never wanted to be?
Now you move gracefully in your armor–shining white,
your graces far exceeding my own,
your concern and sharing overwhelming me.
Now I realize that I have moods too,
and I’ve learned to understand yours.
Perhaps you still make demands on my life,
But they are demands I want to meet.
I would never have chosen this path on my own,
Would never have turned this direction without a Higher Power,
Without God’s compelling hand–
drawing you to me
guiding us, as we
slay dragons, and
break magic spells