IKEA Man, I love you.

I went to IKEA one day with my mom to check on a few things for the both of us, and accidentally set my "Wedding Planner" notebook down as I paid for the solitary item I bought. I forgot to pick it up again, apparently. I forgot the notebook of all things righteous and holy in this world, at the check-stand.

If you're confused as to the depth of my meaning when I say, "I almost lost my wedding planner notebook!" then please, please, go talk to the IKEA Man. Either that, or imagine a time when you've felt complete, ridiculous loss, like the time your Spanish project got erased from your laptop's hard drive the day before it's due after a power surge (your mom told you to get a surge-protected power strip). All you can say is, "This isn't good."

When I returned to the store the very next day, having realized when my mom and I got home that my notebook was no where to be found (I even checked under my seats - a place I don't go often), I was directed to the Lost and Found department which sits behind the large black "Employee Only" doors. I looked around as I entered, donning the most reassuring look that I could muster for any other IKEA employees passing by. The IKEA Man I speak of sat behind a windowed wall and was wearing a reassuring suit of blue and yellow. He saw my approach and popped his head through the window asking, "How can I help ya, ma'am?"

"I'm looking for a notebook?!" I replied uncertainly. "It's gray and says, 'Wedding Planner' on the front?!"

"Ahhh, yes," IKEA Man replied. "That one's definitely here. Found it this morning."

A sigh of relief breathed through my tense limbs!

IKEA Man scanned a list back at his desk and then wheeled over in his blue IKEA chair to a substantial metal file cabinet. Searching through the multitude of cell phones, car keys, children's toys and other notebooks, he pulled out a simple spiral one, gray in color, with the words "Wedding Planner" scribbled on the front with Sharpie.

"I know just what this is all about!" IKEA Man said, as he laid the precious thing into my outstretched hands. I scanned it's cover and pulled it close. "My daughter just got married a month ago, and she did all this sorta planning, too. Can't imagine loosing your notebook!"

"I know," I said to the IKEA man, "I know! Thank you." These were the only words I could utter, but they were filled with sincere appreciation for his understanding, and gratitude for whoever hired the blessed man!

"Good luck, ma'am!" he said to me as I walked back out through the "Employee Only" labeled doors.

"A girl doesn't need luck," I thought to myself. "She just needs her notebook."

It's a Journey, Not a Destination

I read an article today entitled, "8 Things No One Tells You About Marriage." Appropriate, I know, given that I've, apparently, got about one month - no, exactly - to understand these eight things! Hmph.

The article just so happened to be one of many showcased on MSN's homepage. You know how that happens sometimes - the things going on in your life seem to pop up everywhere. I haven't decided if I believe that phenomena has more to do with the Alchemist's theory, that everything in the world convenes to aid you in fulfilling your Personal Legend, or if it is that you notice things in the world simply because they are on your mind.

Needless to say, marriage has definitely been on my mind! Alex and I have had many exploratory discussions about what we think we can guess about what marriage will be like. (Got that? "...what we can guess..." Ha. That's right!) This is all in the light of the Writings of the Baha'i Faith, which means these conversations can get pretty involved. "What does it mean to become "even as one soul" while recognizing that each partner will always have an independent relationship with God?" What is our responsibility, then, in terms of assisting in each other's personal growth and success? What is the significance and the implications of marriage being an actual "Institution of God"? What can we understand about this step in our lives now, and what do we simply need to experience?

While this article was a bit less 'out there' in terms of it's philosophical spectrum, it did offer a few pedazos of thought that touched on something deep and resonating.

The author, Ylonda Gault Caviness, the wife of a ten+ year marriage, supposes, "When you get married, you think that as long as you pick the right guy — your soul mate — you'll be happy together until death do you part." She then reveals, "Then you wake up one day and realize that no matter how great he is, he doesn't make you happy every moment of every day. In fact, some days you might wonder why you were in such a hurry to get married in the first place. You think to yourself, This is so not what I signed up for."

The kicker? Her challenge: "Actually, it is."

Caviness goes on to describe, "You just didn't realize it the day you and your guy were cramming wedding cake into each other's faces, clinking champagne glasses, and dancing the Electric Slide. Back then you had no idea that "for better and for worse" doesn't kick in only when life hands you a tragedy. Your relationship mettle is, in fact, most tested on a daily basis, when the utter sameness of day-in/day-out togetherness can sometimes make you want to run for the hills."

This is where you begin to wonder about your choice, about getting married at all. Maybe there's a little disappointment, a little sadness at supposed things lost. Then she clarifies: "It's not him. It's just you, letting go of that sugarcoated fantasy of marriage that danced in your eyes the day you and your beloved posed in all those soft-focus wedding photos. You're learning that marriage isn't a destination; it's a journey filled with equal parts excitement and tedium."

When I read those last few lines, I imagined the life of two people who got married and then found themselves at home, with all the correct mixing bowls and towel sets, 9-5 jobs and evening engagements, but without that magical something.

When I imagine the life of a couple, who very well may have all the same kitchenware and linens filling their cupboards, but has 'the magic,' I also see their expectation for something more! They look at their lives and those fancy new gifts and think, "These are just the tools! These are the means to an end that is unimagineably real, the best part being, we have no idea what it is." Their growth has not reached it's limit simply because they can mark an 'x' next to the words, "Get married," as a sort of proof to everyone who is watching. The word "tedium" is just not part of their vocabulary - contentment and continuous growth are. Their life is about expectation. Their life is about an expectation to fall flat on their faces, but get right back up again - together; an expectation that their life will absolutely be, blissfully difficult.

And I am so excited!!!

Two Halves Make a "Yes!": Officially Engaged.

When there’s 10,000 miles between you and your beloved’s parents, a few questions arise about how consent is gong to happen. Like, “Does present-day technology (webcams and GoogleTalk) suffice in replacing the traditional meet-the-parents-dinner?” “Would his parents ever give consent without having so much as met me?”
These questions settled into the smorgasbord of thoughts, ideas, hopes, fears and questions skirmishing between my frontal and temporal lobes, including the classic, “Will they like me?”

Alex and I decided to tell both our parents that we were thinking about asking for consent as soon as we realized that we would need to know what they would require and appreciate from us. Dinner in Portland ensued (farm animals included) a couple of weeks after I gave my parents the heads-up. When Alex went to tell his parents about our pending hopes, they beat him to the punch.

“We’d like to meet her,” they said, over an internet connection spanning two and a half continents. Their fuzzy, pixilated images were smiling.

We planned on a trip to Boston, a place relatively halfway (not really) between our NW corner of the States and Haifa, Israel, where the World Center of the Bahá’í Faith is, and where Alex’s parents are volunteers. Alex’s incredibly hospitable aunt and uncle, Kay and Gary, had also volunteered their lovely Boston home to us for the weekend. There was an entire month between making solid plans and the actual trip – I was beside myself with excitement whenever I could afford to admit it (it’s a little hard to get anything at work done when you’re dancing around in anticipation). Throughout those four weeks, I would occasionally find myself frozen mid-step with the realization hitting me at full force, “We’re asking for consent.”

By the time we arrived in Boston on an early Friday morning in August (6:30 am-early), we had no energy left for…well, anything, let alone dancing around. Tricia and Eric, the parents who had, until that time, appeared to me as two people confined to a small box on the computer screen, hugged us warmly and excitedly. Alex and I responding with beaming smiles and sincere grunts. Everything felt very real.

After a warm breakfast, and a solid three hour nap, we awoke with eyes no less red than the flight we had taken into town, but very, very happy. A wind-blown walk around a beautiful forested park refreshed us and got the questions going. Behind my tired smile I had definitely been anticipating the get-to-know-you part of our cheerful banter. We only had three days, after all, to prove to Alex’s parents that we were not crazy for finding ourselves ready to marry after only two months! In no less cheerful tones, Eric and Tricia asked us things like how I was going to finish my degree through Oregon State University from Seattle, what my parents thought about the fact that they had known each other 25 years ago from the Bahá’í community in Salem (Oregon), what I would do if our child refused to eat his or her green beans, and what had been the first things we were each attracted to in the other.

A huge storm came in that night after dinner, and, while Tricia and Eric excused themselves to go tend to their insane levels of jetlag, Alex and I stayed outside by the koi pond talking things over, soaking up the fresh air and rain like good north-westerners. Only fifteen minutes later, the backdoor opened again. Tricia and Eric walked out, looking like they had only one thing on their minds.

“We were just getting ready for bed, and talking,” they began, “when we realized that we should probably come tell you that –“

I’m not sure how Alex’s breathing was doing at that moment, but mine was as good as gone. I mean, completely cut off.

“—we approve.”

Half Way There.

Of course, before there is consent there is still the will to get married, but this seemed like a good place to begin our story.

Background:
Tia and I had met several times over the years, but she was never the most assertive of her friends. It wasn't till her friends decided to all get married and busy that I happened to have the chance to get to know her too. So first off a thanks to Bryan and J.D. Once we started hanging out everything went blindingly fast. It took us a week to realize that there was potential there. After sharing that on the 13th of June, it took us another week to realize we both wanted to get married. However, it wasn't until the next 13th (it just so happened), on a Friday (here we depart from triskaidekaphobia, and look instead to Punjabi where 13 is lucky and represents submission to God), that we talked about it and made the decision.

Back To the Story:
We spent the next few weeks getting to know each other's parents. Tuulikki and Brian live here in Beaverton so it was much easier for me to interact with them. I got to know Tuulikki and her story telling, and Brian and his sense of humor. He once candidly asked me, before we even told them we were thinking of asking for consent, "So, how many sheep you bringing to the table, Alex?"

After a couple weeks of me getting to know them, it was time to march onward. We invited them to an Ethiopian restaurant, which was a first for all the Bauers. For those who haven't had Ethiopian, it is an interesting experience. The food is served like tapas, but on a big communal plate of spongy bread (which some say has the consistancy of brains). Before the food came I told them that I had something for them. At this point Tia and I began reaching into her bag and pulling out plastic farm animals. We placed our offering up onto the table in a little procession, including: sheep, cows, bulls, horses, dogs, ducks, chickens, a goat, 3 camels, a moose (for Tuulikki), and a lobster for good measure. It took them a moment to realize what we were doing, but after the confused looks we all had a good laugh. Then Tia and I looked at each other and she said, "But seriously...". We talked for awhile afterwards, about the practicalities, our intentions, and our understanding of the sheer responsibility of the commitment we wanted to undertake.

The dinner ended with hugs, consent, and a craving for ice cream.