Cows In The Rain and Other Sweet Surprises

It’s all still right there in my mind…

…blindfolded, being led by the arm up a handful of creaky wooden steps. I feel a draft. I’m trying to get my bearings, but not a single ray of light infiltrates the black covering over my eyes and I may as well be in a maze of mirrors, in the dark. Where am I? Man, its cold in here. My feet are killing me from having marched around on them since early morning.  And I’m tripping on something. What is it? Oh wait, it’s my wedding dress.

October 26, 2002. By all accounts one of the greatest, most highly-anticipated days of my entire life.  My wedding day.  We had gotten engaged in June and planning commenced immediately.  For an October wedding we didn’t have much time. Suddenly, we found ourselves in the throes of gowns and guest lists and cakes and vows. And, of course, plans for a honeymoon.  While daydreaming out loud together one day about all of the places we might venture to go to celebrate the joining of our lives, he said it:

“Why don’t you let me plan the honeymoon? And it will be a surprise from me to you.”

What? A surprise?  Really? I instantly surrendered to the idea and fell, delightfully, into the countdown towards “the day.”

I know many of you are taken aback, baffled even, at how I could relinquish the planning of so sacred an affair. For those of you who are married, or are preparing to be, the planning of the honeymoon is most definitely hallowed ground. But I had seen behind the curtain with Eric. I knew how he operated. And romantic notions were his specialty. This is the guy who had convinced me to date him by persuading sixty-six Marine officers to hand-write letters to me with a suspiciously similar theme of “Why you should date Captain Reid,” all to arrive on the same day via the Postal Service. There was certainly a big, fat “check” in the romantic category THAT day when I opened my mailbox and nearly drown in the virtual flood of these letters.  This is the guy who managed to send roses to me in a remote village on the outskirts of Bucharest. This is the man who had proposed to me next to a waterfall, on a mountain, on his knees, during a prayer to God. Not only was he romantic, he studied me and then took action in response to his findings.  There was not an ounce of skepticism in me when I agreed to the big surprise. I could not wait.

Had there been any doubt in my mind about whether or not he would do this thing up right, hypothetically, it  would have been squelched by my forensic analysis of the clues I had been unearthing  around his house in the days leading up to our wedding. I found things. Encouraging things. Things like brochures of the Caribbean and other exotic islands, and notes he had written down on notebooks about needing passports and bathing suits and flip flops. Oh yes…he was on the right track. His plans were playing right into my life-long island honeymoon fantasies. Like I said, perfect man.

Our mid-Autumn, Northern Virginia wedding was truly electrifying, and truly the wedding of my dreams. It hadn’t been flashy. It hadn’t cost much. It had actually taken place in the home of some dear friends of ours...in their living room. It had been personal. Our friends were there. Our family was there. And God was certainly there. It came off exactly the way we had wanted it to. And most importantly, our lives were now joined.  

And now, about that big surprise honeymoon…

Let me say that Eric had METICULOUSLY planned this trip.  He had given me a little bit of information, just to keep me at bay. A limousine would be picking us up from the wedding and taking us to the airport. We would stop at a secret location on the way to change out of our wedding clothes and into our travel clothes. He had told me there would be a surprise waiting for me there, too, and I would have to be blindfolded as we got near.

So I wasn’t surprised when, en route, he handed me over the black blindfold and told me it was time to put it on. Anxiously, I did as I was told. And then the car stopped. And then I got out. And then the creaky stairs, a draft, a maze of mirrors, etc., etc. And then, without further ado, my blindfold is off! I found myself standing in what looked like the loft of a farmhouse. My new husband was sporting a giant, this-is-the-coolest-thing-ever grin on his face. There I was, in my wedding dress, looking around with eager anticipation. What is it?! What is it?! I can’t wait! And then…

“Surprise!! We aren’t really going to the Caribbean! That was all a cover. We’re really going to stay HERE, in the Shenandoah Mountains for our honeymoon! Surprise!!”

Silence. Looonnnng silence. Then…

“Huh?” Head tilted. Brow furrowed. Confused.

That’s weird. I could have sworn I just heard my new husband say, “Surprise, we aren’t really going to the Caribbean. We’re really staying in the Shenandoah Mountains for our honeymoon. “

Odd.

And suddenly the room was spinning.

“But wait…we can’t possibly stay heeeeeere! I only packed clothes for the is-lands!” (Oh, please, dear God, let this be a valid deal-breaker.)

But he had that covered, too. While I had been stuffing my bags with swimsuits and coconut oil, he had already packed all my winter attire into another bag. He had planned well. Great.

And that was how I learned that my dream Caribbean honeymoon had just become my surprise Shenandoah Valley honeymoon. Cold, rainy, end-of-October, Virginia, Shenandoah Valley honeymoon. The home of Luray Caverns. Stalactites and Stalagmites. Yeah.

I wish I could say I handled it better. Eric (I hope) never felt the full impact of my disappointment during the first days of that trip. I was determined to make sure he felt like I appreciated what he had put together.  But I secretly snuck into the bathroom, looked in the mirror and complained, to myself, to God.  At one point I looked out the window and there, in the pouring rain, was a cow. I complained to the cow. Because based on the expression on its face as it chewed its cud in the pouring, freezing rain, the cow wasn’t liking it there very much either. The cow and I got it. This was not the place for a honeymoon. Ugh.

Outwardly, at first, I tried to demonstrate happiness, but I’m sure it was pretty evident to Eric how I was feeling. Inwardly, I was being eaten away by this notion that somehow I had been short-changed. What should have been an all-out celebration of celebrations was muffled by an underlying static of confusion, frustration and anger. Despite all that God had generously given me in this relationship up to this point, all the bad choices He had spared me from, all He had restored in me, all the blessings He had lavished on me through Eric, I was angry at the fact that my current surroundings were simply not what I had wanted them to be.  This was a mistake. And I was mad.

It came to a head at dinner one night. Eric had planned a special night out at one of the local “fancy” restaurants in town. The conversation in my own head went something like this…”Well, there are no umbrellas in our drinks but the tablecloths are white and the glasses are actually made out of glass, so I guess I’ll do my best to enjoy it.” We ate dinner, Eric across the table on a honeymoon high, me staring around the room envisioning what a similar dinner would have looked like in the Caribbean. I can almost hear the waves crashing on the beach. But no, it’s just our waiter…

“Would you like dessert?”

Well, since I am no longer in need of a bikini body…

“Yes, I’d like…”

And Eric interrups. “No, she doesn’t want dessert. Just bring us the check please.”

WHAT!? That DID NOT just happen. Now he’s not even going to let me get dessert?! What kind of dictatorship have I just married into!? First this insane “surprise” and now he’s going to control my calorie intake!?

I was fuming mad. With a “poof” I was suddenly doubting everything God had confirmed to me about this union.  It was all coming down to cows in the rain and dessert. Despite months and months of anticipation and assurance I felt it all melting away faster than a scoop of rocky road in the Jamaican sunshine. We drove the few blocks back to the B&B and the entire way I was clawing at the walls in my mind, trying to figure out what in the world I had gotten myself into. I can’t even have dessert? Is it my weight? Is he trying to punish me for my bad attitude about our honeymoon? Is this the sort of marriage we’re going to have? Is he planning to control me? He clearly doesn’t know me very well seeing how he planned this sort of trip in the first place. Grumble. Grumble. Grumble.

I turned the knob to our room, planning to make my way back to the solace of my venting mirror. As I walked in, what I saw stopped me in my tracks.  There, in the room, was the most romantic, elaborate, beautiful scene I had ever been witness to.  Our room was covered almost wall to wall with bright red rose petals.  Music was playing. Two white robes lay across our bed. Candles. Champagne.

And there on the pillow on a shiny white plate, next to two shiny silver spoons was an elegant, very ornate, indulgent-looking chocolate confection. For us.

I tear up now as I write about it. In an instant it occurred to me that while I was wasting precious time harboring resentment and anger over not being on some island somewhere, enduring my surroundings, this amazing, perfect man was enduring me.  He had carefully planned every perfect detail of our honeymoon, even driving out in the weeks prior to us being there, I would find out later, to make sure everything was just right. He had scoped out restaurants. He had interviewed B&B owners, he had planned special surprises for us, things he wouldn’t have been able to do well through an 800 number off the back of some brochure. Most importantly, he had done it all through the lens of a man preparing to get to know his new bride…the bride he had waited 29 years for.  He hadn’t wanted us to have a “commercial” experience and in his mind this was the perfect place for us. He had wanted it to be intimate, unique, personal. He had thought it through intently. He had planned it for months. And now he was putting up with me, my complaints and my downcast spirit because he deeply loved me. It had to have hurt him, but he endured it. Because that’s what you do when you love someone.

It shames me to think about how easily I lost confidence during those few days, and how quick I was to doubt and complain without waiting to see the big picture. All the history that existed of Eric proving to me his devotion, generosity and selflessness went out the door. In the moment, the focus on myself and what I thought I should have nearly cost me the experience of having exactly what I wanted. It was so regrettable. But, thank God, salvageable.  And it reminds me of another story I know.

In the story of the Exodus, God called Moses to lead the Israelites out of their enslavement in Egypt and eventually into the Promised Land, a land that by all accounts is the perfect place. After demonstrating His power through ten terrifying, mind-boggling plagues designed to convince Pharoah to let the Israelites leave, God finally paved the way for them to make their exit. Talk about having the right person in your corner! This was God. Acting in all His power on their behalf. What doubts could they possibly have?

Between Egypt and the Promised Land God demonstrated His protection and devotion to the Israelites time and time again. He parted the Red Sea to facilitate their escape from Pharoah’s army. PARTED THE RED SEA! He provided bread from the sky. Water from a rock.  Meat from the air. He led them as a pillar of fire by night and a cloud by day, always displaying that He was present with them.  Any one of these miracles, it seems, would have been sufficient to cure all doubts…forever…about God’s trustworthiness and power.  And yet, when the Israelites finally reached the edge of the Promised Land and saw a new and unexpected obstacle in the form of the Amorites, they quickly lost all faith…again. This is not what they had had in mind. What kind of leader was Moses to have brought them here? Enslavement in Egypt was suddenly a way better option in their minds and they suddenly preferred it to the apparent pitfall before them.  In an instant they forgot about God’s devotion and the power that resided with them. They turned away.   And they paid dearly for it. An entire generation would lose the privilege of entering that Promised Land. They had forsaken God and there were consequences.

How quickly we forget what God has already brought us through, what He has already proven to us. How easy it is to doubt, despite our past first-hand experiences with His trustworthiness and love; to fall into the trap of “This time I just don’t think He’s with me.” Maybe you’re looking around at your current surroundings and they are just not what you have expected them to be.  Maybe you’re like me in the moments following the revelation that my honeymoon would be a mountain honeymoon and not a Caribbean one.  Maybe you’re angry. This is not what you had imagined, so something must be terribly wrong. Maybe your marriage doesn’t look exactly like you had expected it to.  Maybe you’re contending with an illness you didn’t see coming. Maybe you’re struggling financially. Maybe you’re simply feeling alone, isolated, afraid, depressed, overwhelmed. This is not what you have planned for. God had been with you in the past, but He has clearly abandoned you now. You’re dying of thirst and hunger and you just want to go back to Egypt because maybe it was horrible there but at least you knew what to expect.

Let me just encourage you by telling you that God is always good and He is always present. Continue to follow Him.

“As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Joshua 1:5)

His plans for you are far greater than anything you could possibly conjure up in your own mind.  Trust them.

“For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

God has the ability to see from an eternal perspective how our current challenges will work in our favor, how they may grow us, strengthen us, help someone else who is watching us walk through them. Maybe from where you stand it looks hopeless. It isn’t.  Let Him work. Trust Him. Thank Him for the provision that is already there but that is just beyond your field of vision. Don’t lose sight of the Promised Land that God has in store for you simply because you are blinded by your unbelief.  If you struggle to believe, ask for help in believing.  Oh yeah, you can do that. He invites you to.  

There is an amazing, beautiful truth…not a possibility…a truth that when you have entrusted your life to Christ none of your challenges are in vain.  We are more than conquerors through Him, and He will work the good in everything we contend with for His glory. Wow.

Today, as I celebrate a perfect decade of marriage to Eric, I have to chuckle at what lies ahead for us. In a couple of months we will enjoy, God willing, the reunion of all reunions. We’ll be meeting in London, staying at one of the most luxurious hotels on the Thames. We’re sparing no expense in celebrating ten of the most amazing years of our lives, and the end of a challenging deployment. I cannot wait. 

One thing is for sure, though…this trip, in all its exotic, luxurious splendor, will never hold a candle to my perfect Shenendoah  Mountain honeymoon.

Eric, I love you with every ounce of my being. Thank you for being the man who tolerates me.  Thank you for ten amazing years. Surprise, indeed. You’ve been the most amazing surprise of my life. I’d say this calls for chocolate.