The Barrus Bustle: My Man

This is a post that I have been saving for just the right occasion and I have decided that now is the time. Because November just ended and for our family that month means a few very basic things: football, Thanksgiving, and this man's birthday.

My man.

Today I want to tell the whole world why I get to call him mine.

On December 24, 2007 not long before midnight I stood at the window of the darkened room my boys were sleeping in. It was snowing outside and I could feel the chill from the frosted pane against my cheek, though my face wasn't touching the glass. As I gazed out into the night I saw the same Christmas lights shining through the steady fall of giant snowflakes that I had seen every year since I was nine years old. But this Christmas Eve was so different than any I had experienced before. That little girl would never have imagined this life, this kind of pain, this degree of worry and uncertainty. As my three children slept soundly behind me in warm beds, surrounded by my mother's homemade Christmas decorations that donned the dresser and end table in my parents guest room, I wondered if I would ever feel at home again. Anywhere. I wondered how I would care for them, feed them, teach them, protect them...all on my own. Because that was how it was going to be. I could not conceive in my mind any possible scenario in which I would have a partner ever again. Because who would want this life? Who would want me? And if there was such a person, how could I possibly trust him with these precious ones? With me?

Fast forward one year to this same window, at this same time, looking out into yet another snowy night. Five days earlier I had gone on a date with a man named Seth whom I had just met at a Christmas musical performance I was participating in. He had taken me to lunch at The Olive Garden the day before my birthday. I felt something authentic with this date that completely contradicted my first impression of him, which had been wrongly connected solely to his appearance. You see, he was gorgeous. He took my breath away with his handsomeness. So I dismissed him outright as a very non-potential interest (my experience with very good looking men was not exactly positive). As it turned out, that first lunch conversation was not at all what I expected. It was comfortable, uplifting, and familiar--something I had not felt for a very, very long time. Perhaps ever. And then when it was time to return to our separate schedules for day, he continued to challenge my highly attractive man narrative by dropping me off on campus at BYU for my last final because it was snowing outside and he didn't want me to have to park and walk in the cold.

What. Who was this guy?

A few hours later I relieved my babysitter, packed up the car, and again drove with my boys up to Logan for Christmas. After arriving I kept receiving texts from this new guy. They were sweet and thoughtful and hard to ignore. So this Christmas Eve, as I gazed out the window at the shimmering lights of my childhood, I had a teensy, tiny glimmer of hope in my heart.

Before Christmas break was over we had had a few more dates, including a New Year's Eve night with stars and fireworks that witnessed an unforgettable first kiss. With all my previously held doubts and worries and fears, it all felt like magic to me.

And so it commenced.

Like so many beginnings, this one was sparkly and fresh and exciting.

It was so easy to forget the burdensome parts of my life when we were together. I was living in Provo with my boys while attending BYU full time and he lived in South Jordan. He came down often to spend time with me and would often surprise me with unexpected mid-day visits during lunch breaks. It was a perfect whirlwind of heart flutters and day dreams as we came to discover more and more about each other.

However, it soon became apparent that it was time for the glistening glaze of romantic novelty to be lifted from our eyes and for our minds to become clear. I had three little boys. And this was not a game or innocent diversion from the troubles of life. It was their life.

And so I began to pray for Seth to start to see things clearly, with eyes wide open.

Oops...

Boy, were those next two and a half years difficult.

But also wonderful.

This Seth. He was simply too good to be true. Several times I concluded that yes, indeed he was just that. I would try to move on. He would try to move on. But we were only meant to move forward, together.

Though each separation brought heart wrenching hurt and a few laborious dates with other candidates in between, they were completely necessary for each of us. They provided the exact growth, stretching, and learning that we needed to be able to forge a life together, for this was no ordinary marital voyage ahead.

For me it required a reconstruction of my ability to trust.

For him it required an enormous degree of sacrifice.

This is why I consider our union to be nothing less than miraculous. To have a man who was not only kind, thoughtful, intelligent, competent, talented, creative, beautiful, clever, and completely devoted to God but who also was willing to give up so many of his own personal dreams to be with me was beyond what I ever thought possible. And it was the kindest gift of pure love I had ever received.