THE COURSE OF LOVE~ Roses & Thorns #0

Life, in its most profound moments, often mirrors the paradox of a rose: exquisite beauty intertwined with formidable thorns.

It's a sentiment famously captured by Abraham Lincoln, reminding us that our perspective shapes our experience – whether we lament the thorns or celebrate the roses. This timeless wisdom resonates deeply with my own journey, particularly when reflecting on the intricate twining of relationships and purposeful living.

Looking back at my younger years, I can distinctly recall the fervent energy I poured into romantic idealizations. My journals/notes/chicken scratches/memories from that era brim with entries about fleeting connections and an almost consuming desire to find a life partner in my twenties. 
It felt as if the societal currents of the time, coupled with a shrinking pool of eligible young men as friends moved on and joined or were drafted into the military, magnified this internal yearning. There were brief, immature relationships, each one a learning curve, a subtle thorn that, at the time, felt like a significant misstep. Yet, these experiences, though sometimes painful, served to refine my understanding of love and companionship, shaping the woman I was becoming and am presently.

Then, a new chapter began. My future husband was away, engrossed in his studies in another state. While he was gone, life continued with a vibrant energy; we, as a community, shared meals, attended church, collaborated on projects, and dreamed of future possibilities. It was a time of joyous camaraderie and burgeoning self-discovery. 
When he returned, our paths converged in a way I hadn't anticipated. What blossomed was a partnership that would define the next forty eight years, embarking on an extraordinary journey as home missionaries with Gospel Recordings for twenty of them.

Our life together was anything but a smooth, unblemished path. It was a rich landscape of experiences: profoundly exciting, yet often financially lean; incredibly challenging, but always brimming with new insights. 

There were moments of stark difficulty, trials that tested our resolve and faith. It’s tempting, in hindsight, to assign the "thorn" to these hardships, or even to the complexities inherent in any long-term partnership. However, as the poet Martha Snell Nicholson so eloquently penned in "The Thorn," sometimes the most piercing gift is precisely what God uses to "pin aside the veil which hides His face." These challenging periods were not merely obstacles; they were catalysts that revealed deeper truths, fostering growth and strengthening our bond in ways that ease never could.

Charles Martin’s poignant observation often comes to mind: "Thorns don't stop you from sniffing. Or putting them in a vase on the kitchen table. You work around them.... Cause the rose is worth it... Think what you'd miss.” This wisdom encapsulates the essence of our journey. Our life together was certainly thorny, demanding resilience and unwavering faith. Yet, it has also been abundantly rich, filled with moments of profound beauty, purpose, and love that far outweighed any struggle. The fragrant 'roses' of shared mission, deep companionship, and spiritual fulfillment have made every single 'thorn' not just bearable, but ultimately, invaluable.

Indeed, without the thorns, the roses themselves might not endure; they serve as a defense, protecting the very beauty we cherish. This profound truth, mirrored in both nature and scripture (2 Corinthians 12:7-10), continued to guide my perspective. 
Life’s true richness lies not in the absence of struggle, but in the ability to find and appreciate the fragrant roses that bloom alongside – and often because of – the thorns.

The Thorn
"I stood a mendicant of God before His royal throne
And begged him for one priceless gift, which I could call my own.
I took the gift from out His hand, but as I would depart
I cried, “But Lord this is a thorn and it has pierced my heart.
This is a strange, a hurtful gift, which Thou hast given me.”
He said, “My child, I give good gifts and gave My best to thee.”
I took it home and though at first the cruel thorn hurt sore,
As long years passed I learned at last to love it more and more.
I learned He never gives a thorn without this added grace,
He takes the thorn to pin aside the veil which hides His face."

by Martha Snell Nicholson

THE COURSE OF LOVE #4

THE BROKEN GOBLET~post edit

More than Four decades have unfolded since I first began to truly understand that marriage serves as an extraordinary crucible, a profound journey into the very essence of our beings—revealing both our deepest vulnerabilities and our remarkable strengths.

Now those vulnerabilities and strengths manifest themselves in widowhood

In the blush of youth, I once penned the portrait of an ideal partner, a "mythical man" crafted from expectation.

Time, however, refined that vision, showing me the far greater wisdom in praying for a divine transformation within both myself and my beloved, shaping us ever closer to a higher ideal.

The daily sequence of co-existence, woven with shared laughter and quiet understanding, was a constant revelation. It was a dynamic dance with someone who, though an undeniable part of me, maintained his distinct identity; someone whose unique rhythms often diverged from my own, yet through whom I discovered my own evolving nature.

As a wise soul once observed, "None of us are perfect packages—seek instead the fundamental truths." And indeed, it was the essentials that truly mattered.

My quiet, personal spaces were joyfully invaded by the vibrant spirit of the man who swept me off my feet, utterly unaware of the profound and beautiful chaos that awaited me in the decades to come.

He was my steadfast companion for forty eight years. That was the man I stood beside, the one who once garnered a traffic citation on the bustling 5 Freeway for an offense as charmingly idiosyncratic as driving *too slowly*, his gaze captivated by the majestic Goodyear Blimp drifting overhead.

This is also the man whose sheer will to survive allowed him to walk away from a harrowing motorcycle skid at 40-50 miles per hour on the Hollywood freeway during morning rush hour. The scars bore the reminder.

Those moments, both trivial and terrifying, served as poignant reminders of his inherent fallibility, a humanity that mirrors my own. Our enduring partnership, year after year, was a testament to an abundant, sustaining grace. There is no prescribed blueprint for a "normal" marriage; indeed, who can truly define such a concept?

Our union was not merely an agreement, a covenant but a living testament forged in hope, unwavering faith, and an outpouring of grace that emanated from a source far greater than ourselves.

We navigated tempestuous gales, confronted unforeseen crises, and emerged, as if "tempered by love, sealed by God above." Even when the "better" in "for better or worse" seemed an elusive distant shore, our foundation remained. For as scripture reminds us, "My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways," declares the Lord. "For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts" (Isaiah 55:8,9).

A relationship, even one deeply rooted in love, that demands consistent effort can, at times, present formidable challenges. Yet, I am immensely grateful for the maturity that taught me the invaluable lesson of embracing duties I might otherwise resist. It is through grace that I found the strength to honor the sacred vows made to my husband.

I am often drawn back to a simple, yet powerful, symbol of our journey's resilience from the nascent years of our "marital bliss." When unwrapping our wedding gifts, we uncovered two perfectly matched, elegant wine glasses – an unexpected offering, perhaps a "white elephant" re-gift, given that neither of us had ever indulged in or even contemplated wine. Like the opening scene of a grand narrative, these stylish goblets, designed to elevate an inherently delightful experience, seemed to hint at our own unfolding story. We carefully removed them from their packaging, placing them gently on our newly carpeted floor. In an instant, one toppled, shattering into pieces, leaving its lone counterpart. That single, exquisite goblet, which I rediscovered on a high shelf, became a quiet metaphor for life’s unexpected brokenness—a poignant picture of grace anticipating the inevitable "worldly baggage" that life would bring. It represented the essence, the core that remained.

That solitary goblet graced the shelf of my china cabinet, a quiet, enduring symbol, a shared memory my husband and I periodically referenced: the day the other goblet broke, and we began to learn the profound beauty of what endures.

Rebecca Schoof (The us that became me)

THE COURSE OF LOVE #3

That famous opening from Charles Dickens' *A Tale of Two Cities* often echoes in my mind when I reflect on my journey together with my loved one. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..." – those words resonate deeply, capturing the beautiful complexities of our shared narrative, where seasons of brilliant light have coexisted with challenging shadows, and profound understanding with perplexing moments of silence. It makes me question if I was truly prepared, adequately "built," for the unique journey of a life intertwined with a husband.

I realize now that my innermost thoughts and feelings have, at times, remained a mystery to him, not for lack of my desire to share them, but because the very architecture of his being, his distinct 'wiring,' processes and understanding the world in a way so wonderfully, yet fundamentally, different from my own. 

There were moments, I confess, when my mind would wander, observing other couples seemingly effortlessly aligned, and I'd wrestle with the insidious whispers of comparison, questioning what I might be missing. Social media, of course, paints only the most curated versions of happiness, a deception I am increasingly learning to recognize.

It was in those vulnerable spaces that sometimes allowed frustration to take root, interpreting forgetfulness, focused absorption, or occasional detachment not as facets of unique design, but as a deliberate lack of care, or even selfishness. For those moments of judgment, and for the careless words that have too often spilled from my lips in haste and misunderstanding, I truly regret. My care was, though sometimes poorly expressed, an unwavering constant.

Yet, through all the introspection and the sometimes-painful learning, one truth remains an absolute anchor: we belonged together. We are intricately intertwined, and in our uniquely 'wired' ways, we were each other's steadfast support. I cherish this profound connection, recognizing that in our own distinct language, we declared, "We are each other's!"

I eventually learned to shed the impulse to "fix". He was not my project to be mended; he was a magnificent creation, precisely as God intended. The elusive nature of perfectly aligning our perceptions, of completely understanding each other's interior worlds, is a reality embraced with more grace. My perspective increasingly shaped by gratitude for who he was rather than by a desire to be someone else. 

While my human longings might  conjure an image of who I *wished* him to be, our true identity, our shared purpose in Christ, remained steadfast and profound. The journey of sanctification, of becoming more like Jesus is a lifelong process for both, never truly finished, always evolving.

It was in the quiet, unassuming moments that my heart swelled with a special kind of blessing—catching glimpses of an open Bible in his hands in the hush of an early morning, a simple yet powerful testament to his unwavering faith.

I regret ,

too, the times I didn't fully embraced or celebrate his passions, for my impatience , and harsh words that sometimes erupted, particularly when my simple questions, intended to connect, were met with frustrated silence amidst focused tasks, perhaps in the kitchen.

There where days when the weight of being a wife felt immense, leaving me with a weary and questioning adequacy. Yet, when I reflect on the countless precious milestones that we shared, the depth of our history, the very thought of a life without him seamed unimaginable at that time.  Yet here I find myself years later in that unimaginable season with out him.

After all these years, through the unexamined moments and the perplexing phases, there finally came a dawning of clarity, those profound "Aha!" revelations. I see now, with a quiet confidence, that we were going to be more than okay. This journey demanded a steadfast spirit, and a readiness to embrace it fully. I laced up my sturdier spiritual "sneakers," tightened my commitment, and sharpened my resolve, prepared to stand firm with the full armor of God. (Ephesians 6:10-18)

THE COURSE OF LOVE #2

THE COURSE OF LOVE #2

It often strikes me how little control we truly have over our fundamental nature, and indeed, over so much of our journey. The ancient wisdom that questions who grants us our voice or our silence, our sight or our blindness, resonates deeply as I reflect on life's intricate journey. (Exodus 4:11)

And then there’s Reinhold Niebuhr’s profound plea for serenity and courage, a prayer clung to in moments of profound truth, seeking the grace to accept the immutable, the strength to alter the possible, and the clarity to distinguish between the two.

For decades, I occupied the role of wife, beginning as the spirited companion of early adulthood and continuing through the gentle unfolding of middle age and beyond. I was more than just a wife; I was the root from which my husbands children sprang and the matriarch embracing his grandchildren.

Each year that layered upon the last didn't merely pass; it etched an indelible story of shared moments, an accumulation of time so rich and specific it could never be replicated. It was a testament to enduring commitment, a deliberate choice renewed time and again. I was granted a privileged, front-row perspective into the evolving landscape of his existence, a constant witness to his triumphs and trials, his dreams and his quiet struggles.

Yet, despite this profound intimacy, our journey was rarely simple. There were times when my heart found only a reluctant joy in the blessings that poured into life, and by extension, into ours.

It wasn't always an easy acceptance of the unique gifts God had bestowed upon him, and on me, as his partner. We were, unequivocally, two distinct universes, each orbiting with its own gravitational pull, attempting to communicate a language of love and life that neither of us had ever/never truly mastered. Moments of profound appreciation, which in hindsight now feel so abundant, often slipped through my grasp, unacknowledged or unarticulated.

Our relationship, like any living entity, was a constant process of adaptation and transformation. The roles we assumed, the burdens we shouldered – those 'hats' we wore through the seasons of our lives – were heavy, demanding, and ever-changing. We frequently pushed the boundaries of our affection, testing its resilience, sometimes to its very limits. There were periods when our mental and emotional reserves dwindled, leaving us exhausted and struggling to bridge the chasm of understanding. In those vulnerable moments, my own shortcomings became painfully clear. My fervent desire to navigate life's challenges, to 'survive,' often unmasked a deep-seated selfishness I was reluctant to confront. I was, at times, far from my best self—lacking kindness, wavering in steadfastness, and falling short as a compassionate partner.

We certainly weren't the picture of idyllic romance often painted in stories or social circles. 'Couple of the Year' was never a title we aspired to, nor one we would have likely received. The illusion of a perpetually 'happy couple' is, I've come to believe, a dangerous myth, especially for those of us who lived a richer, more complex reality. Our marriage, with all its imperfections, its raw honesty, its peaks and its valleys, was an undeniably and extraordinary adventure. I learned early on to resist the temptation of comparing our intricate journey to anyone else's. Our union wasn't designed for external validation; it was uniquely woven , special in its own peculiar way, and yes, wonderfully weird. It was ours, and in that, lay its profound, irreplaceable value.

THE COURSE OF LOVE #1

THE COURSE OF LOVE #1

"The course of true love never did run smooth," penned William Shakespeare,

a timeless truth that resonates deeply as I reflect upon the intricate tapestry of my marriage.

That last milestone, marking 48 remarkable and mystifying years, compels a profound internal excavation – a deliberate effort to unearth the foundational truths and distilled wisdom that anchored our union. It wasn't a journey where years simply accumulated; rather, it had a dynamic evolution, each season requiring conscious effort and continuous recalibration in a neurodivergent world.

They say a successful marriage demands falling in love repeatedly, always with the very same person. This adage often prompts a chuckle and a moment of wonder for me: "Who exactly was that man I married, today?"

It speaks to an ongoing discovery inherent in a long-term partnership, especially when two individuals, seemingly wired with entirely distinct operating systems, committed to building a life together.

My initial connection was rooted in seeing beyond superficial interpretations of 'love,' recognizing a unique spark that reflected a profound beauty – an echo of the divine glory that resides within every soul.

It was indeed a testament to God's grace that our paths intertwined and our hearts aligned before the complexities of daily life had a chance to obscure that initial, potent bond. (an understatement)

Over four decades, I gained an ever-deepening appreciation for the layered complexities that formed the architecture of our shared life.

Revisiting the genesis of our relationship often recaptured those initial glimmers of connection that drew us together. Our imperfections, far from being deterrents, served as the challenging yet beautiful crucible in which our commitment was forged.

Ultimately, our journey, with all its human frailties,

remained a testament to a higher purpose: to glorify God. If we are, as scripture states, fearfully and wonderfully made – even if uniquely so on the spectrum – then our focus must pivot from our own preconceived expectations to that divine design.

Oh, the heartaches I may have sidestepped had I only possessed this understanding in our earlier years!

My path has been strewn with pivotal learning experiences, the wisdom gleaned from what I once perceived as marital pitfalls:

For far too long, I harbored the unspoken expectation that my husband should intuitively grasp my desires, discerning them through subtle cues. The stark reality was he often hadn't the faintest idea. This realization was a profound turning point, underscoring the absolute necessity of clear, direct communication. If I desired understanding, it was my responsibility to articulate it.

I learned the invaluable art of discerning which battles truly warranted my engagement. Not every disagreement demands a stand; some are best acknowledged, understood, and then allowed to pass, preserving the deeper harmony of our connection.

There were moments when allowing natural consequences to unfold, even if inconvenient or seemingly illogical in the short term, proved to be the most effective teacher – both for him and for the dynamics of our relationship. It fostered a deeper sense of personal accountability.

I discovered that persistent nagging, an attempt to govern territory that wasn't mine to control, served only to erode respect and create distance. True influence stems from partnership and respect, not relentless pressure. Yes, I failed miserably on so many occasions.

Finally, and perhaps most crucially, I cultivated the resilience not to panic when traversing the inevitable rough terrain of our shared life. Just as the Apostle Paul observed in 1 Corinthians 7:28, "those who marry will face many troubles in this life." This ancient wisdom is not a prophecy of despair, but a realistic acknowledgment that challenges are inherent. Learning to navigate those difficulties with faith and fortitude, rather than fear, was paramount. Yes, I failed, many, many times.

Every year refined my understanding of what it meant to build a lasting, meaningful partnership. It was a continuous process of learning, loving, and striving toward a shared, divinely-inspired purpose.

Yes, and I failed again even until the end. Such is the course of love, tainted by sin and cracked by our own limited knowledge.

~rjs