I married young. I married unwisely, the first time. I didn’t listen. And I thought they were wrong. Despite all that, they day of my first wedding, I thought to myself….this is a bad idea. This is going to have some serious repercussions. This is not going to be good for me.
First mistake. God wasn’t part of the picture. I didn’t invite Him. I actually didn’t know that marriage was His idea in the first place. The reality of the situation was that I didn’t actually know He existed at all. So that part wasn’t really my fault I suppose.
But, and this is the morality tale part of the story for anyone who needs it; I married as a way out of my guilt for having given myself away so young. I was sixteen. And, yes, there was coercion, however, I knew it was all wrong, although I had no formation and all. The upside was, I got married at twenty as a way out, Silly Me…but then by the time I was twenty three, I was given a beautiful daughter, who ultimately was the reason I started searching for God.
I hadn’t willed her into existence, I knew that the precious life I carried was a gift, and I started looking for the Giver and He, in His infinite generosity, and after a year or two of cynical tumult, vexation and rebellion on my part, He showed Himself to me.
And, so grateful He was willing to carry the burden of my sins.
I met Sparky when Alice was two.
And that’s the reason why…I very, very rarely feel a need to Him deny.
Now you know why I don’t write poetry. I’ll leave that to Mr. Belloc.