Getting to Know You

Last Saturday was a beautiful day for a wedding, a virtual one. A dear friend married the sweetest fella on the banks of the Chesapeake. The setting was perfect, pandemic or not. The handsome groom stood next to his gorgeous bride as they looked out over the water. A handful of family members sat behind them as they made the ultimate commitment to each other, getting a fresh start as a married couple.

The minister’s words were encouraging and hopeful, as they should be. As someone who has been married for a while, I appreciated his words about vulnerability, encouragement, and grace. I needed reminding. He didn’t only speak to the betrothed, he spoke to all of us and handed out loving marching orders on how to lift up this young couple. I’m paraphrasing here, but he directed us to give them space and grace as they get to know each other. At first that struck me as odd. Shouldn’t they know each other before getting married? Well, yes and no. 

Yes, you should know someone well enough to decide you want to spend the rest of your life with them. But young relationships are all flutter and flirt; are we really equipped for such an earnest decision?  I know couples who made the decision quickly; others—like John and me—waited quite a while. People have to do what feels right for them.

One of my sisters-in-law says “love is a choice”—not just a feeling. She’s not wrong. Experience the loss of a parent, a job, or last night’s six tequila shots on your bedroom carpet and then tell me if you feel like sleeping in the same bed with your partner. To make it fun, toss a few screaming toddlers into the mix. I’ll wait. 

I’ve learned that to truly know someone you have to live a life with them—in sickness and in health—through all the seasons. We don’t always know what we're actually going to have to do when we say “I do.” Maybe we mean something closer to “I love you enough right now to give it a go.” Those new-love feelings are just the best, but what's left when they fade? That wise minister understood this, and he advised us to let this couple do the work to build a strong marriage, which is the reward.

Twenty-six years later John and I are still getting to know each other—figuring each other out, understanding each other—especially as we’ve matured and changed over the years. My prayer is that this couple continues to choose love as they grow into the family they were meant to be, especially when it’s hard. I imagine on a particularly challenging day, they’ll catch the other’s eye. Maybe there will be a flutter in the stomach to remind them they’re in this together and why. (That flutter has saved me a few times.)

And can't we choose love in other realms? 

I’m starting a new job soon. It’ll be interesting to see how I meld with the team remotely—how we’ll get to know each other through screens. They’ll learn that I take my job seriously but that I also love to laugh. I’ll learn the distribution of power and who is willing to shed it to help a new person learn the ropes. I’ll find out who gladly hunkers down when there’s a tight deadline and who the go-to techies are. 

That discovery process will probably go slower than if we were onsite, where we’ll gather again at some point down the road. That’s when you truly get to know your coworkers. You learn who’s perfume is too strong, who arrives early to make the coffee, and who heats up fish in the microwave at lunchtime. (If that's you, please stop.) But, if a team is functioning, you learn to work around their quirks, and they work around yours. 

At that time I’ll try to remember that minister’s words about vulnerability, encouragement, and grace. I’ll make an effort to get to know my new team and let them get to know me. Instead of picking things apart or waiting for something to go wrong, I’ll try my hardest to choose love. 

Fresh note pad, empty inbox, can’t lose.

Thanks for reading.