(Thank you to my dearest friend, GP Eleria, for uploading this on YouTube.)
The above song is a recording of the Nordic Chamber Choir's rendition of O Magnum Mysterium (M. Lauridsen). It's technically a responsorial chant, usually sung in Christmas. Roughly translated, it speaks of the glorious mystery of the baby Christ as the animals come to worship him in his manger.
The reason I am posting this right now, at the tail end of a sublimely humid day (but it's drizzling now, so hurrah), is that earlier today, a good friend posted one of my favorite lines of St. Anselm. Since he and I studied him in Filipino, the quote he used was in Filipino. Roughly translated (again) though, the quote says something like this: I thought I should understand you before I could love you, but I needed to love you before I could understand you.
I am again reminded of my favorite philosopher, Søren Kierkegaard, who said, "If I am capable of grasping God objectively, I do not believe, but precisely because I cannot do this I must believe. If I wish to preserve myself in faith I must constantly be intent upon holding fast the objective uncertainty, so as to remain out upon the deep, over seventy thousand fathoms of water, still preserving my faith."
Both quotes resonate with me so much because both speak of a starting point of absolute faith -- the kind of faith that envelopes the fact that I do not know, that does not call this lack of knowing ignorance, that invites me to draw nearer and deeper into the unfathomable mystery of God's existence and his love for me. It is the faith, as St. Anselm says, that fuels the desire to understand. Fides quaerens intellectum, faith seeking understanding.
It is absurd and I cannot prove it, but they exist: both God and his love for me. It is this absurdity that allows me to believe in it. Credo quia absurdum. It is this absurdity that keeps me alive, because it is an absurdity that is so immense, all other earthly concerns are dwarfed by it.
Well, at least when I remember -- or when I am gently reminded by God. ;-)
. . o . .
Chad and I met in school; not as students but as teachers. He and I had a ton of common friends, so much so that it was quite amazing that we hadn't met sooner.
When I met him, I instantly despised him. I thought him brash and overly confident (mega euphemism alert). He said he liked me, but when he got to know me, he realized I was too, um, brash and...oh, what the hell. He thought I was a big bitch. Full stop. No parenthetical remark from me to deny it. :-)
And so for years we were just friends. Hi-hellos turned into longer chit-chats (we shared several classes, so it was hard to ignore each other), which then turned into after-work dinner and drinks with a lot of our common friends.
In one SY's in-service session, we realized that most of our common teacher-buddies had all either resigned or gone on leave. Since by then we were already comfortable with each other, we gladly shoved our first impressions aside and started hanging out.
At the start of each SY, faculty members are strongly encouraged to go on a spiritual retreat. The retreat is often a silent one, but during that year, we were given the option to attend a different one. It was a retreat designed for young adults, and so I went to that one instead.
I went to that retreat because I was unhappily shuffling my feet on the dying embers of a fantastically tumultuous relationship that lasted most of my adult life. I was confused and needed help. I was grateful for the chance to pray and talk about it among individuals who were very sympathetic to what I was going through.
Incidentally, Chad was part of the group of people who arranged that particular retreat for me. Soon after that, we started getting closer and closer.
But, er, at around the same time, the other person and I were still trying to fix things -- but failing miserably. At one point, I knew I had to make a decision. So before even telling Chad that I had fallen in love with him (yes, oh horror, I was the one who said it first), I told the other guy that it was over between us. That ended with a rather disastrous thud.
The next morning, still shaking from the night's encounter with the other person, I told Chad what had happened. The very first thing out of Chad's mouth wasn't brash. It wasn't overly confident. Kainis, but it wasn't even romantic. He said, "Let's pray about it."
I JUST TOLD THE MAN THAT I WAS SUPPOSED TO MARRY THAT I CHOSE YOU OVER HIM AND YOU'RE ASKING ME TO PRAY ABOUT IT?!? Thought bubbles all, none of that came out of my mouth. Prudence or shock? I'll just go with prudence.
And so off to church we went and prayed.
The rest has been nothing short of wonderful. I've tried understanding how he and I came to be, how the Lord conspired for all of this to happen for us, but I am often just rendered speechless at the vast mysteries of the Lord's glorious matchmaking skills. God got mad skillz, yo.
And now this, our latest mystery, is moving furniture around my body, making my bladder her own personal footstool. I knew our love for each other could heal all our past wounds, and now it can also create miracles. Yep, we can make our own humans, as it turns out. God. Is. Awesome.
. . o . .
Chad and I will be celebrating 3 wonderful years of married life on Wednesday, 5 years together in total. It has been difficult and wonderful and terrifying and exhilarating and all-together amazing. He and I didn't understand each other at first, hell, we don't understand each other often up to now! But when we remember to approach each other with love, understanding follows.
He and I are so different that huge chunks of him remain mysterious to me up to this very day. But as each day unfolds another layer of him, I cannot help but rediscover why he has been the absolute best lover, partner, and friend to me.
You know when people say they married their best friend? I sometimes sincerely doubt if they mean it as much as I do.
He is the kindest man I know. He is warm and gentle and caring and loving and nurturing and strong and resolute and impeccable. And he has that football player's bumbum that I oh-so-adore. :-)
But most of all. Most. Of. All. I love him because he teaches me to love Christ above all else, all the time. He reminds me that I must always start from faith, that understanding follows, and if things remain mysterious, it's all good, for we are in God's hands.
It isn't fate, as much as it is faith. It must be faith. ;-)
. . o . .
Happy anniversary, my Sweet Baboo. With all my heart, with all my soul, in this life and the next, I am yours. Thank you for being God's gentle reminder to me, each and every day. I love you!!!
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