Five years of marriage and one botched haircut later...

After Denny’s last haircut, we bought some clippers and decided the next time I’d try to cut his hair myself. I’d never used clippers before, but I figured I’d channel my inner 7-year-old self who wanted to be a “haircut person” when I grew up, and it would be just great. Well, tomorrow we are heading off to celebrate five years of marriage, so we decided last night was the night the world would finally know my untapped hairstylist prowess. 

What could possibly go wrong with a wife cutting her husband’s hair?!?

I know, I know, you’re cringe-smiling because you all know just exactly what could go wrong.

Maaaaybe I should have opened the new clippers box and familiarized myself with them prior to the actual cutting of the hair.

And perhaps I could have chosen a time other than the 20minutes I had between dinner and needing to walk out the door to a meeting.

I suppose I could have given thought to the fact that I had two toddlers who were beyond ready for bed and simultaneously were quite literally bouncing off the walls and running around the table as I attempted to cut his hair.

 

I can see that now….   

So, there we were. 

Him in his desire to simply get a haircut, and me in my desire to be the best hairstylist that’s ever existed in the history of barbering, and also, oh, by the way, you have ten minutes to get ‘er done.

Turns out he doesn’t like the buzzing clippers just being held against his head, near his ear while I try to think through how to do this whole thing. Turns out I don’t like feeling rushed and being told what to do. 

Somewhere between discussions of how to use clippers and trying to pull tiny bits of hair out of my gagging 19month old daughter’s mouth, there was a slight miscommunication about the guide comb number to use. 

I, the rule follower, just did what the instructions told me to do and used the guide comb one number higher than the number I used on the bottom of his head. 

About three swipes into the cut, after a rather large chunk of hair fell in front of his eyes, my dear husband asked what number guide comb I was using and said he had mentioned earlier he always has the barber cut the top at 1”.... Which was, you know, roughly, okay, exactly, ½” longer than what I was currently happily cutting away.  Somehow, I did not get that memo. 

So, alas, on the eve of our 5th anniversary my husband is sporting a haircut that is shorter than it’s likely ever been and I’m sporting this new thing called humility.

You may wonder why I’m telling this story. 

Here’s where I’m going with this. 

We were both pretty frustrated by the whole experience. It didn’t go how either of us had expected or hoped. But it’s okay! It really is. (Says the girl whose hair is intact...But, he would agree.)

These moments are what covenant-keeping marriages are filled with. Miscommunications, unrealistic expectations, poor timing, and a commitment to wake up tomorrow and try again.  

One of the beautiful gifts of a covenant-keeping marriage is the intermingling of intention and time.

Our intentions were stated five years ago in the form of vows we exchanged in front of a host of people we love.

"I, Jessica, take you, Denny, to be my husband. (I choose you. You and you alone.) To have and to hold (to receive and treasure) from this day forward (I give you all my days). For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, (when things exceed my expectations and when they fall woefully short.) To love and to cherish, (to see and love the whole of you), until death do we part (as long as we’re living, I’m in.)" 

Our intentions are the same today as they were in the beginning. But today we have the gift of five years of time. 

Five years of learning how to love each other well. Five years of growing in our understanding of each other and therefore in our understanding of us. Five years of praying for each other.
And five years of screwing up. A lot. Everyday. But we’re learning to admit and own it more quickly. To say "I’m sorry" just as readily as we say, "I love you". We are learning to not sweat the small stuff. To let the laughter come. To talk about the hard stuff. To get some skin in the game. The gift of the rest of our days is the gift of refining love. The gift of second chances.

We’re in this together. I am for him. He is for me. And God is for us. Together, with intention and over time, we are building something. A legacy that, God willing, will stand for many generations to come. A legacy of covenant-keeping, sacrificial, sanctifying love.

So tomorrow we will celebrate all that God has done to refine our love in five years. We will take time to reflect on the things we’ve learned and we will look forward with great expectation to the ways our love (and Denny’s hair) will grow in years to come.