Tag Archives: marriage

Two by Two, times Two.

Many of my friends and acquaintances on social media will note my reticence, up until this point, with regard to same sex union. I have always supported same sex union, according to the same theory that I use to support union of any two people for any deeply committed reasons. Unification, on principle, is a good thing, to me – at least, within the context of my capacity for human reasoning.

However, because of a childhood saturated and steeped in Christian Fundamentalism I have struggled for years with the cognitive dissonance that comes with that package; how do I maintain my relationship with devout, faithful, God-fearing family and friends, and publicly support something which I know to be in direct defiance of everything said sub-group of people would have me represent? Naturally, because there has never been an easy solution to that dilemma I have, typically, totally deferred by staying completely o.u.t. of the public conversation.

Today, the conversation has changed.

And, today, I am taken back to the time of Christ, and the subsequent period of years during which the Apostle Paul, subjecting himself to the Holy Spirit, solidified the Christian church.

The church vs. state debate, even among Christian groups, rages; marriage, believed to be ordained by God, is also a law of the state. As such, Christians are directed to give unto “Caesar” that which is his due, and to God, conversely? that which is the domain of Providence.

So, what say ye, when the law it be  a – changin’ ?

Are Christians to assimilate, or accommodate?

It has always seemed both fair and reasonable to me for any two or more people who want to commit to cohabitation to be allowed all the privileges of shared living: domain; insurance coverage; medical power of attorney, for themselves and each other; the works.

Now, the government declares marriage, as a binding law between agreeing parties, no longer discriminatory per gender. Divorce is still an option, under the same jurisdiction, yes? So, it seems that our government has decided to permit the survival of civil liberties, at least in the interests of preserving not love – which can never be controlled, thank you God – but, choice and, perhaps in the interests of social preservation, the survival of the household.

Why can’t everybody start by rallying around that, instead of the impasse of endless debate over belief systems, with their creeds, dogma, and other delineating confinements?

(I was going to touch on plural marriage in this piece, as well, but we all know that topic deserves its own template.)

At the very least this new law, while liberating an ever expanding percentage of the population, will provide a larger field of options – for both future children, and those currently in need – to enjoy stable, loving homes. I would hope that the most anal of alleged Christian apologists would see the good in that, and just shut up about the rest of it. Because the rest of it is really only the domain of the Almighty, anyway; you know, God being the only judge of human behavior, and all that.

Loving one another is all we are charged to do. My mother was fond of telling us all to “get busy”. Maybe we should.

I’d ask for an Amen, but I’ll be expecting an army of well-oiled resisters, instead. So be it. I’m backing off, now. God is more than ready.

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p.s. and, for those fearless among us (although exclusively O.T. in its “thrust”), I suggest:  https://youtu.be/90_UlLSz6Nc

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© Ruth Ann Scanzillo

6/26/15  All rights to every written word in this piece those of the author, whose name appears above this line. The video is from YouTube, author Matt Baume.

littlebarefeetblog.com

Staying (Take 2).

(*previously posted as “Staying”, with references to a fellow blogger.)

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It is June. Fully flowering, fertile June. The season for weddings.

In 1993, I got married. I was 36. My husband, a sweet man, didn’t love me – and, I knew it. My mother adored him, because he was a.) blonde; b.) white collar; c.) his parents went to Camp O’ the Woods; and d.) he was truly kind and attentive toward her. The night before my wedding, I stayed up til 2a.m. crying my eyes out with my BFForever, Lisa. Mum had made all the gowns, the fresh flowers I selected were due first thing in the morning, Aunt Margie had made a two foot liver pate carp with paper thin cucumber scales for the hor d’oeurves, and all the groom’s relatives had flown in from California. I prayed. I told God that, if this marriage were truly ordained, He[God] would sustain it; conversely, if not, would God, please, take care of it?

Apparently, God did.
Two years later, Mum died of brain cancer, and my husband left. One piece of paper filed in the state of Indiana, 100 bucks, sign on the line, relinquish the Oneida and the PC/keep the printer, and done. Feelings? Null. Void. Mum was dead. Who cared?

In the years prior to and since that wedding, I played the whiner like nobody.

And, I was hideous.

Wenhhhhh……”Should [he, the latest] stay, or should I go?” Was anybody listening? It’s a wonder I have any girlfriends left. Oh. Wait.

Here’s what. As soon as we find someone we care about, seems we get stuck on this notion of Staying.

Why? What is Staying, really? Stay where? in the house? in the bed? in the room? What?

Stasis. Cessation of flow. Or, equilibrium. But, the acute absence of: growth?

Symbiosis. Two disparate, living beings coexisting in mutual agreement. Is that what we want? If we stay, that’s pretty much what we’ll get. Stasis. Or, symbiosis. They’re natural laws.

Stop spending so much energy deconstructing. If you come, come as often as you like, whatever, aftershocks, cry a little, get dressed. But, after you come? Go.
Go, joyously, exuberantly, spurred by the experience of being together, as far and as long as you like. Then, Return. Return to that which brought you in the first place. You might find that you both want to. How easy does that sound?

Love, the force that draws us, repeatedly, irresistibly, magnetically. But, it’s kind of a circular thing, and we should just submit to its movement. Not like hamsters in a wheel, repetitively, endlessly, to dissolution. I mean, ever forward, so that we never end up where we started. No; far beyond that place. Letting the circle take us, until we become it. I think somebody else said something like this a long time ago. You’ll pardon my reconstitution. The channeling vessel, and all that.

There’s a lot being said about Space – making some, needing some. But, maybe space is just a place in the whole movement through the relationship. Maybe it’s in the center of the circle. And, maybe, if we come, and go, and return, there’ll be plenty of space provided for us. We won’t even have to ask.

Dad married Mum, left, returned, and stayed. But, after that, he came and went effortlessly. He walked 2 miles a day. He ran marathons. He knew everybody. Somehow, he managed to live both responsibly toward his family, and freely as an individual. His devotion to each of us went without saying. And, he was joyful.

I am now old. Finally. Irrefutably. Not degeneratively. Not decrepit, not shriveled. Not quite yet. Just of age. I’ve reached the finishing stage, and with very great relief, thank you. No longer interested in asking for, or offering, any kind of promise to stay that interrupts growth. Because, yes; even old people can grow, and love had better.

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© Ruth Ann Scanzillo

3/21/15  All rights to this piece the author’s. Please, request permission to share. Thank you!

littlebarefeetblog.comGrowth!

Staying.

Growth!  O

In 1993, I got married. I was 36. My husband, a sweet man, didn’t love me – and, I knew it. My mother adored him, because he was a.) blonde; b.) white collar; c.) his parents went to Camp O’ the Woods; and d.) he was truly kind and attentive toward her. The night before my wedding, I stayed up til 2a.m. crying my eyes out with my BFForever, Lisa. Mum had made all the gowns, the fresh flowers I selected were due first thing in the morning, Aunt Margie had made a two foot liver pate carp with paper thin cucumber scales for the hor d’oeurves, and all the groom’s relatives had flown in from California. I prayed. I told God that, if this marriage were truly ordained, He[God] would sustain it; conversely, if it weren’t, would God, please, take care of it?

Apparently, God did.
Two years later, Mum died of brain cancer, and my husband left. One piece of paper filed in the state of Indiana, 100 bucks, sign on the line, relinquish the Oneida and the PC/keep the printer, and done. Feelings? Null. Void. Mum was dead. Who cared?

In the years prior to and since that wedding, I played the whiner like nobody.

And, I was hideous.

Wenhhhhh……”should he stay, or should I go?” Was anybody listening? It’s a wonder I have any girlfriends left. Oh. Wait.

Here’s what. As soon as we find someone we care about, seems we get stuck on this notion of Staying.

Why? What is Staying, really? Stay where? in the house? in the bed? in the room? What?

Stasis. Cessation of flow. Or, equilibrium. But, the acute absence of: growth?

Symbiosis. Two disparate, living beings coexisting in mutual agreement. Is that what we want? If we stay, that’s pretty much what we’ll get. Stasis. Or, symbiosis. They’re natural laws.

Stop spending so much energy deconstructing. If you come, come as often as you like, whatever, aftershocks, cry a little, get dressed. But, after you come? Go.
Go, joyously, exuberantly, spurred by the experience of being together, as far and as long as you like. Then, Return. Return to that which brought you in the first place. You might find that you both want to. How easy does that sound?

Love, they call it – the force that draws us, repeatedly, irresistibly, magnetically. But, it’s kind of a circular thing, and we should just submit to its movement. Not like hamsters in a wheel, repetitively, endlessly, to dissolution. I mean, ever forward, so that we never end up where we started. No; far beyond that place. Letting the circle take us, until we become it. I think somebody else said something like this a long time ago. You’ll pardon my reconstitution. The channeling vessel, and all that.

There’s a lot being said about Space – making some, needing some. But, maybe space is just a place in the whole movement through the relationship. Maybe it’s in the center of the circle. And, maybe, if we come, and go, and return, there’ll be plenty of space provided for us. We won’t even have to ask.

I am now old. Finally. Irrefutably. Not degeneratively. Not decrepit, not shriveled. Not quite yet. Just of age. I’ve reached the finishing stage, and with very great relief, thank you. No longer interested in asking for, or offering, any kind of promise to stay that interrupts growth. Because, yes; even old people can grow, and love had better.

 

 

 

Love to all ❤ littlebarefeetblog.

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© Ruth Ann Scanzillo

3/21/15 all rights to this piece the author’s. Please request permission to share. Thank you!

littlebarefeetblog.com