Married life!

Okay, so I am officially the worst blogger ever. I have on several occasions to started to build up something of a readership, semi-freaked out that so many people wanted to know what I was saying (made doubly speechless and confused when people I knew began discussing particular blog entries in front of me), and disappeared until my readership had dwindled comfortably down.

The most pointed example of my status as worst-blogger-ever is the fact that I quit blogging right before my wedding and failed to blog at all again for the next eight months. A wedding. It's the kind of thing that bloggers that actually want people to read what they write really like. Because people like weddings. And wedding photos. And sentimentality.

And I just don't get it all. That's not what I want exposed all over the internet. That's not what I want to draw people to my writing.

I have blogged off and on for some time, because it connects me to people far away. I also enjoy expressing some of the things that I am thinking about. But here's the reality: I don't know how to discuss my writing. Ever. And when I get afraid that people will actually want me to discuss my writing, it tends to leave the blog. Not that I ever stop writing. That's impossible for me. It just doesn't show up in blog form any more.

But... lest anyone think my general silence (mostly from the time I first began dating my now-husband) is due to unhappiness, here's a few of my reflections on married life.

It's good. It's two people. It's warm. It's waking up next to my best friend. It's being understood. It's being misunderstood. It's choosing love every day. It's choosing to focus on some things and overlook other things. It's closeness and intimacy. It's kindness. It's grace.

It seems people are particularly curious about the multicultural aspect of our married life, because it seemingly sets us apart from so many couples. Without a doubt, bringing our cultural styles of communication into our married life has required grace, patience, and understanding. Yet, I still have this on-going theory that we misunderstand each other about as much as the average couple; we just *know* we're multicultural and therefore are more prone to apply grace in the moment. Don't we all grow up in distinctly different family cultures with unique styles of communication and different expectations? Doesn't everyone have to work through forming yet another culture whenever we embark with another person, from another family, in creating a brand new family unit?

As I said earlier, marriage is being understood and misunderstood. I think that's part of why God gave us marriage. There are deep, deep lessons to be learned in the give and take that comes from this process. And there's extraordinary intimacy that comes when we choose someone that we cannot in the moment understand. (I am not speaking of language now. I am speaking of the infinite number of things that we do in our way, which we can never explain why truly... or, at least, explanations make no sense to another.)

And the other side of multicultural marriages... oh, the richness! Seeing the world from another perspective. Seeing my own country and culture from another perspective. Speaking a language at home that is different from the languages we use outside the home for daily business. Comparing the international news in two languages (worth doing!). Absorbing values from each other that our own cultures have neglected.

That being said, I married a gem of a man. Some days I wake up and still cannot believe this can all be real. The kindness and gentleness I experience from my husband makes it impossible to imagine any other life. And I don't intend to quit saying these things about him. He's a good man--the best even--and I am extraordinarily blessed.

Wishing you all the best from Lampang, Thailand!

The Narrator Voice

While occasionally people thank me for writing, the truth is that writing exists mostly as a compulsion for me. I think in terms of writing. I call it my "narrator voice." I reflect and think and dream in this narrator voice that is always communicating... perhaps merely to myself, but I feel the tug of my fingers toward the keyboard when the narrator voice is at its loudest or most passionate. I rather think it reflects an incredibly narcissistic side of myself, a side that actually believes others care or might benefit from hearing these reflections. Yet, I cannot turn off the narrator voice, and I feel compelled to put it on paper. Mind you, I do not always share the writings that result from this inner voice, but I have to write. And when this narrator voice is at its most prolific, even the small minority that gets shared with others adds up to a sizable amount.

Yet there are these other strange times, in which that voice suddenly turns off. In these times, suddenly as I walk through life, my thoughts make only silence. They do not string themselves together into words and paragraphs in my mind. To write is to struggle, and what I write frustrates me, for it is not coming from that place deep within where the narrator voice resides. It feels forced and for someone else, not out of my own desires or passion.

I tell you all of this, because I have not been writing for several weeks. I have not written any group e-mails. I've hardly written any individual e-mails. And I have not written any blog posts.

I apologize. To those of you who are so faithful to read all that I have to say, I am providing absolutely no further knowledge about life in the Shan village I love so much, and I am sorry for that. Moreover there's absolutely no reason for my silence. There's no bad news or good news that has overwhelmed me and thus silenced me. There's been no sickness or other strangeness. There's only been so very much of the ordinary beauty that I usually revel in and which inspires pages upon pages of contemplation on an ordinary day.

But my inner voice has become oddly quiet, as it will occasionally. Without it, I don't know how to stream words into sentences. Without that voice, my thoughts can only burrow deep, deep within me.

Perhaps I am coming out of it, as the ability to write this post may hint at. Still, if this is all I find myself able to write for now, I only hope you understand. I am trying. I want to tell you lots. I only need time to pull my voice back out of the folds of its hiding place. I simply do not wish to write you merely an "update" of life, factual without any heart. So please be patient and wait.  In telling you even this, I am waking up my narrator voice again, and I will speak. The words will come. I want you to know about the place I care so much about. And I want to talk about all my hopes and fears and dreams when it comes to potential of peace in Burma. I want to tell you all these thoughts, but these thoughts do not exist in words yet. So know that I will write again soon. For now, all my love goes out to all of you who have been faithfully reading my words.