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Oct 16
2007
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Moroccan Food and Wonder...Posted by Gabe Knipp in Untagged |
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My wife and I went out to dinner Saturday night. She took me out: she chose the time and place and made the reservation. So we went to a Moroccan restaurant downtown and sat on brightly colored pillows. We had course after course of lightly spicedchicken and peppers and cous-cous while drinking pale, sweet tea. We talked and laughed and leaned back into the cushions when we couldn't eat anymore.
On the way home I did something stupid: I got into a disagreement with Brooke. I was talking about the pitfalls of American consumerism. (Which, if you know me, isn't that weird a topic to be talking about on a romantic evening with your wife. Mainly because I'm a nerd.) Brooke said she disagreed, or partly agreed but gets tired sometimes when people rail on America because there really are a lot of good things about it. Unfortunately, I took offense to this, that anyone might disagree with me, because my world revolves around me. I am the principal player in the story, and everyone else has a bit-part, mainly to encourage me and tell me how great I am.
Now that I think about the situation, it's really ironic that I railed on America after paying a good amount of money for a really nice dinner, driving there and back in our personal car, after an entire Saturday of relaxation and comfort.
But in the moment I couldn't believe Brooke - my wife - would disagree with her enlightened husband. So I did the most obvious thing. I stopped talking.
When I got home I grabbed a book and went upstairs and started reading.
Brooke, since she's really much smarter than me and I forget this, waited for a bit. She waited for me to come to my senses. Then she came upstairs and helped me realize what I oftentimes forget: That I really am an idiot. She wondered what I took offense at, and wondered why I didn't give her the freedom to disagree with me. I tried coming up with some sad excuse, even though I knew she was right.
On the night we got engaged we went out to dinner, then back to a friend's house and had a party. A bunch of our friends were there, and we sat down and they toasted us. Then we went around and everyone gave us advice. I guess it was cute and fun and all that. I don't remember much of it.
But the friend whose house it was said: when you disagree, seek to understand before you're understood.
I don't know how many times I've disregarded this advice, or how many times I will. But I know that this past Saturday I did again. Brooke is so good at this, and she tries to know exactly what I'm thinking, while I plunge ahead like an offended water buffalo.
It's really a position of wonder. Wondering why Brooke would say what she said, rather than trying to ram home my point.
I think it's this attitude of wonder, not just in disagreements but all of life, that makes relationships worth the time and energy. Not just after the first date, or fifth date, or first year of marriage, but fiftieth year of marriage.
I talked on the phone with my grandparents today. They just celebrated their 59th wedding anniversary. My grandpa got on the phone and jokingly told me, "It's good to see you again." He went on to explain their anniversary celebration, and how they saw the Lawrence Welk band, but there were only old people around. He said, again jokingly, how out of place he felt. He has an attitude, maybe more than anyone else I know, of wonder at the world around him.
I think about Brooke and I after 59 years. Going out to Moroccan restaurants. And I hope - I hope, I hope, I hope - that I will have that attitude of wonder when she disagrees with me, and tease it out. Maybe there will be something new to find out about her, or something new that she can show me about myself.
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