i struggle sometimes with the focus of our blog, our book, our encouragement from others. sometimes the encouragement, unintentionally, makes ian into an object of pity.
sometimes ian's value is sacrificed with a well-intended encouragement to me.
sometimes all i hear is that i've made a sacrifice. that i've made a hard choice. that i'm the focus.
sometimes we forget that the one who is disabled has made a sacrifice.
as we sat this weekend at a film festival, i looked at ian sitting next to me. i listened to the screen, to the documentary voices telling me about the gift of stepping into the darkness of loss and disability and grief.
i looked at ian who i came into this darkness with and who is a pure gift to me.
i didn't know how to love until ian. i didn't know how to love until God led us into darkness, together.
ian has fought for seven years. ian has entered into marriage knowing that he would have infinite losses. he knew that he would be marrying someone who wouldn't always feel in love with him and who wouldn't always be kind. he knew that he would live an entire life of giving up his preferences and thinking of someone else first and making hard decisions for the sake of Christ, all with a disability. he could have given up or chosen despair or been afraid that God couldn't keep our love.
i asked ian last night why he married me.
laughing, "because I love you."
ian is not to be pitied. i am not to be pitied. God is to be rejoiced.
the foundation of all that we are is love. love saved us. love moves us. love molds us.
this, for us, was not learned in health.