Pizza and Marriage

Independent Bookstore Day is tomorrow, April 29, 2017. In honor of this day, you will find my husband and I standing in line at one of Seattle’s unique community bookstores called Book Larder to get our copy of Delancey signed by local author Molly Wizenberg. 

We have been reading Delancey aloud to each other at night. It’s a memoir about starting out, about new beginnings. Molly tells the story of her first year of marriage, during which her husband Brandon starts up a New York style pizza restaurant in Seattle without any prior business experience. While Brandon sweats to find a real estate deal, build a wood-burning pizza oven and invent his crust recipe, Molly has one hand in pizza recipes and the other in writing and publishing her first book called A Homemade Life (now a New York Times bestseller). Molly writes candidly and humorously about the challenges they faced and the vision and determination her husband had to see his dream to completion. It’s a fun, local read and especially relatable for us as newlyweds.

A couple weeks ago, after spending the afternoon filing our first, joint tax return as a married couple, we decided to celebrate the occasion by going out for pizza. Of course, being in the middle of reading Delancey, there was no contest about where we would go. 

We arrived at Delancey just before 4:30 p.m. and waited outside for the restaurant to open. Before long, who emerged from the doorway but Brandon himself, rolling a large garbage bin behind him with a cheerful, impish smile on his face. We watched him disappear around the corner of the building and then come back a few minutes later with the same bin, filled to the brim with wood burning logs for the pizza oven. My anticipation increased as more smiling patrons gathered around us, waiting and expectant.

We were seated at a table for two. The table was a thick concrete block, but a lit candle warmed it. We ordered one house-made sausage pizza with mozzarella, Gana and prosciutto, and an oven-roasted radicchio salad. When our pizza arrived, the edges were blackened and blistered to perfection just as the book described. Flavors blended harmoniously together. We divided and shared it all, including lemon curd mousse and cookies for dessert.

I remembered the advice we received early on in our relationship, that love and marriage require revising the story between the two of you often. Sometimes, we need to revise our lives daily to meet the other’s needs; or in the grander scheme of life, we revise and recreate our story to grow together year after year.

In the article "Love Tips From the Very First Couple," published in The New York Times earlier this month on April 2nd, Bruce Feiler describes love being an active process, "But love is not a moment in time; it's the passage of time. It's the long-term practice of reinvention, reconciliation and renewal. Love is the act of constantly revising your own love story."

When it came to the first couple ever created, Feiler says, theirs is not the story of Adam, or the story of Eve; it is and forever will be the story of Adam and Eve. He writes, “Theirs is the first joint byline.”

One can see Molly and Brandon revising their story page by page in the book Delancey as they pursue a shared life, and every couple does. Herein lies the great potential, and responsibility, even the key to making a love story last.

That’s Brandon waving hello in front of the pizza oven. And that's me giving a thumbs up!

Inside Book Larder, the walls are lined with nothing but cookbooks and books about food. Delancey being one of them. As our dating involved so much of eating our way through Seattle, I suppose it makes sense we’d find our way into the cookbook store too, hand in hand. The food we’ve bonded over and meals we’ve shared in the past two years are already in the thousands, and counting. Again and again, we agree to spread the table and raise our glasses to the life we’re writing, we’re revising, we’re publishing day by day.

Won't you join us at our table?

On Stage with Langhorne Slim and The Law

He crouched lower and lower to the edge of the stage and looked us right in the eye, his own eyes dark and piercing under the shade of his black hat, and he crowed in a low voice into the microphone, “Come a little closer. I have something to tell you.”

All of us fans in the crowd moved as one body closer to the stage.

Langhorne Slim, the singer songwriter from Nashville, TN, was courting us with his lyrics and storytelling now like a fisherman in the sea of music, and storytelling was his bait to draw us in.

Then, when he had us captivated and listening, he stood up and sang out passionately, “I came all this way to show you my love.”

What an unforgettable night at the 2016 Timberfest music festival in Carnation, WA. Although the event happened a whole month ago, and I am only now finishing my record of it, the memory is as keen as if it were yesterday. So I stop in the middle of my forward-planning wedding tracks and glance back on a concert with Langhorne Slim and The Law spent wild and free under a starry night sky.

As we entered the festival grounds, whose car should drive in front of us but Langhorne’s, and a few minutes later there he was, strolling nonchalantly in his leather boots and jeans, literally crossing our path again as we waited for a Greek gyro, and Robert ducked out to greet him personally.

The concert commenced and Langhorne called out to the people behind us within a fenced drinking arena. He shouted to them in good humor to finish their beer, get out and come closer. When that didn’t seem to do the trick, a few songs later, Langhorne decided to get closer to the crowds himself. (Incidentally, his latest album The Spirit Moves is the first he’s written and recorded entirely sober, leaving drugs and alcohol behind him, according to his website bio here.) Jumping off the stage right into the midst of us, he pressed through the crowd to get to the outsiders while we watched and clapped on. One leap and he was standing right over them on the wooden counter singing into the microphone while his stage managers, used to keeping up to his wild antics, didn’t miss a beat as they held the mic cords high above people’s heads and waited for Langhorne to return to stage.

“He was walking among us!” I felt a revelation as if he were some kind of Christ figure, for he kept bending down low and captivating us with his stories, making our hearts thump louder to the beat of something bigger than us, casting out his bait to the farthest reaches of humanity, those of us caught behind whatever fences we may have constructed for ourselves, inviting us all into the full musical experience. “Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do. I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.” (Mark 2:17)

Really, we were having the time of our life, celebrating life and live music in the great outdoors, hemmed in by Washington’s majestic trees all around us. We shouted joyfully and jumped up and down and danced to the talents of the band.

But the best part came at the end of the show. In the final act, Langhorne jumped off stage again and then pulled people from the crowd up on stage with him. I couldn’t believe it when Robert knelt down on one knee and hoisted me onto stage, while Langhorne himself grabbed my elbow to steady me as I got a footing, and we danced next to the talented Mr. Slim!

As we danced on higher ground, I thought this too was an uncanny allegory to heaven and to Christ, who joins our raw humanity on the ground in order to, in the final act, lift us up onto heaven’s stage, drawing us into glory.

So there we were, shouting joyfully, of all lyrics, “I’m not dead, I’m not dead, I’m not dead!” Ha, a reminder that despite everything we’ve been through, each of our stories isn’t over yet, and we are still alive, still pressing on, still being resurrected.

We swayed to the final encore, “Changes,” and smiled as we related to going through changes in our hearts and lives.  And while we could have made those changes getting hitched in a private chapel or eloping to an island to profess our vows, we felt instead compelled to go the distance back to our families. Now I know the reason why: “to show them our love.”

Thank you for inspiring us, Langhorne Slim and The Law, and for an amazing concert! Happy birthday on August 20th, our wedding day!

The Rear End of Things

My car was rear-ended this week by a Mariners fan as both of us merged southbound onto a busy road. I remember the pain of the whiplash as my head banged against the side of the window from the impact. I swerved to safety at the side of the road. It was a shock. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. My hands trembled as I reached for some paper and a pen, afraid to see the damage at the rear of the vehicle and trying to remain poised and think what information I needed from the stranger. I got nervously out of the car, my every faculty feeling employed. The other driver was standing there waiting, and all I could think to do was probably the most human thing to do – introduce myself, “I’m Christina.” And he replied apologetically and said “That’s my wife’s name!” 

It’s a wonder how people collide into our lives, merging paths in less than desirable ways sometimes, and we find out those we want to blame are not all that different from ourselves after all. The car has been towed to the body shop, and I am adapting to living without it for a time, driving around a rental car and pondering the passing of things, of what we possess, and the fragility of life.

The irony of it all is that I am, if you will, at the rear end of a lot of things. There’s a song that goes “We’re going through changes now,” (click here for the full song by Langhorne Slim & The Law). 72 days to go until I’m a married woman and living in a new home with my hubby, starting out our life together. The old is passing away and soon new things will come. The car that’s been the mascot of my single “freedom” years, of college, of living out on my own, road tripping to Georgia with other writers, moving across the country to Washington state, and adapting to the beat of a new culture and city life…all wrapped up in Lucy blue...is getting a new start. I am ready for change, to accept the loss of things, for to gain the joy of new experiences and "to gain Christ," as St. Paul would say.

Looking back over the past year, a lot has happened as I became a city girl, comfortable in my shoes walking the streets, venturing to coffee shops, maneuvering through crazy traffic, running urban trails and parallel parking. I’ve moved from fear to confidence in doing things I’d never done before and not thinking twice about it. And I am reassured today, in a life being spared, that there is much more to happen.

Once upon an April, my father passed away in an auto collision, but here I am. Thank God! As the beat of the music swells around me in the hip hop class at my neighborhood fitness studio, I am counting every blessing of being alive, of being able to move, to dance with my body, to feel emotion, and to love.

“Your heart is beating loudly,” said the chiropractor today with the stethoscope to my chest. 

Yes, it’s beating loudly because it has so much to beat for!

Preparing for a Wedding

I’ll never forget the weekend my mother got on a plane and flew out to Seattle to help me shop for the wedding dress of my dreams. It was here the motherly heart and the daughterly spirit embraced and rejoiced among flowing dresses and veils.

My mother first clothed me as an infant, dressing my naked body as I screamed into this world. She wrapped me in a white blanket, enfolding me with her love and acceptance. “Clothe the naked,” Christ said. And so she did.

Now I am 29 years old and she has put a new garment over my head, a wedding gown, a symbol of purity and innocence. Gazing at myself in the mirror, I see beyond myself and into his eyes as I imagine my groom beholding me with rapture. And so, tears of joy and anticipation well up inside of me. I am grateful we have waited for the one. In this dress “I’ll thee wed,” and then, mysteriously and miraculously the bride will become a babe again, known to another kind of love. I’ll be tenderly held and fondled and known for the first time as I was known once upon a time on a winter’s day, January 2nd, a babe with fresh pink skin and a beating heart, desperate for love.

“Feed the hungry,” Christ taught, and so Mom did. During her visit, she fed us lambs with her motherly presence and assured us by her prayers. We’d had a stressful few weeks leading up to her visit, but then she waltzed in, bringing a breath of fresh air and positive reinforcement when we needed it most. It wasn’t about the advice she had to give or any problems she solved; it was just being there for her daughter, and for her future son-in-law that made a difference. These were moments full of grace. Her unwavering belief in us and her prayers were a little miracle that dried up the rain and brought us together simply by being “our mother.”

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you…” And we felt the Lord with us as Mom and I spotted rainbows almost every day of her visit, each one reminding me of God’s promise long ago to never let flood waters destroy the earth again. One rainbow touched down so close to the earth, reflecting off the lake, that it looked as if we could dance right through its rays! Bask in God's goodness to us!

A Yogi tea bag reads “Empty yourself and let the universe fill you.” To me, this quote finds beautiful expression in motherhood, physical, spiritual and emotional, the act of carrying life inside of you and bearing it out to the world, emptying yourself in the process, giving your very heart, mind and soul to help others, nurture others, love others.

I think of the Blessed Mother Mary for she in fact, and most dramatically, let the Creator of the Universe fill her so completely as to become man inside of her. Mary submitted in prayer to God’s mysterious plans and then emptied her life in raising the Messiah, encouraging him to initiate his ministry at the wedding at Cana and courageously following her Son to the Cross, standing there, accepting into her arms all of humanity, who He married on the Cross, as her own children. For Scripture says, “As a young man marries a virgin, your Builder shall marry you” (Is. 62:5) and “For he who has become your husband is your Maker” (Is. 54:5). And she takes us into her arms now like adopted children in law, sealed in Christ’s blood.

And the wonder of it all is that somehow, it is in this "becoming babes" to each other that man and woman become parents to another generation. Marriage is a mystery, or a series of veils being lifted over time, from the altar to the death bed.

“No life is happy without mystery, and the greatest of all mysteries is love. Great are the joys in marriage, as there is the lifting of progressive veils, until one is brought into the blazing lights of the Presence of God,” wrote Fulton Sheen.

In his book Three to Get Married, which I think could be the most beautifully written book on Christian marriage ever written, Sheen unpacks the different stages of marriage and family life as they evolve:

“In a true marriage, there is an ever-enchanting romance. There are at least four distinct mysteries progressively revealed. First, there is the mystery of the other partner, which is body-mystery. When that mystery is solved and the first child is born, there begins a new mystery. The husband sees something in the wife he never before knew existed, namely, the beautiful mystery of motherhood. She sees a new mystery in him she never before knew existed, namely, the mystery of fatherhood. As other children come to revive their strength and beauty, the husband never seems older to the wife than the day they were married, and the wife never seems older than the day they first met and carved their initials in an oak tree. As the children reach the age of reason, a third mystery unfolds, that of father-craft and mother-craft – the disciplining and training of young minds and hearts in the ways of God. As the children grow into maturity, the mystery continues to deepen, new areas of exploration open up, and the father and mother now see themselves as sculptors in the great quarry of humanity, carving living stones and fitting them together in the Temple of God, Whose Architect is Love.” (pg. 71)

The wedding is only the beginning, the lifting of just the first veil. And so I echo with Mary, a song of gratitude rejoicing in unknown but promised mysteries: “The Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name”! (Lk. 1:49)

Thoughts to ponder: Mother’s Day is this month. What lasting memories do you have with your mother? What does motherhood mean to you? Do you have a relationship with the Blessed Mother?