Confession: I’m terrified of getting cold feet.
This fear can be applied both literally and figuratively, since my base temperature is that of a small lizard, and I have so much anxiety, that were I to use my powers for good, I could probably generate enough energy to run a small city.
So, yeah cold feet? Don’t like ’em, in any form.
It will probably come as no surprise that my betrothed has the opposite opinion as me, when it comes to arctic appendages. Danger and I even had an enlightening discussion about it the other day (well, enlightening for me anyway). While driving home from some errand or another, he said out of nowhere,
“You know, I always hear guys complain that when their wife has cold feet, she shoves them on her husband to warm them up.”
I nodded, “Yeah, I hear that, too.”
He grinned at me, “But you know what? I’m excited about that! I’m always too hot anyway.”
I laughed at his upbeat reaction to having popsicle toes shoved unceremoniously upon him. I remembered all the times that I had frozen hands or feet, and Danger would let me cling-cuddle to him on the couch until the feeling returned to them. I also remembered all the times he got overheated, as he often does, and asked me to put my frozen hands on his neck or face.
It’s a nice symbiotic thing we’ve got going on, really. We handle cold feet, in the literal sense, very well. But it makes me wonder (nervously), what happens if either one of us got figuratively cold feet?
History tells me that if he told me he had cold feet, I would FLIP. MY. LID. Like, seriously. I’m what you might call, “insecure”, and would react accordingly if he expressed even the tiniest hint that he was nervous or having doubts about getting married – which by the way is a normal part of the discernment process, and does not imply you shouldn’t get hitched. I mean, if your doubts are constant, glaring and are being mirrored by your closest friends, then yeah, take your cold feet outta that relationship. But I’m talking about the natural worries and nerves that pop up when you get close to joining THE REST OF YOUR NATURAL LIFE to one, single, other person’s. It’s kind of a big deal. A huge-normous deal. So you’re gonna have those antsy feelings and questions, and that’s okay.
But again, hearing those normal cold feet feelings from Danger, would freak me out. I would cry and panic and hide. Since I catastrophisize about everything on a good day, I would take this and run. Whereas, if I expressed the same feelings to him, he would calmly sit down with me, make some tea, and have a responsible, healthy conversation about what I’m experiencing, normalizing it all and comforting me like only he can do…
…Because Danger is level-headed and all that is chill. And also because he trusts me, and more importantly, he trusts God. He relies on God’s grace, praying and pondering his way into his relationship with Him. So that fact, combined with his centered personality, makes him so incredibly warm and comforting. Just like his embrace is when I’m freezing from 72 degree weather. And just like all the blankets he piles around my feet to warm them up.
Maybe the only cold feet scenario that we should be yin-yang on, is the literal one. Because it seems that with figurative cold feet, we both need each other to be calm, trusting and understanding. For me this is quite a feat, and requires the kind of sacrifice that marriage calls for: the sacrifice of dying to your own fears and weaknesses, so that you can move forward, trusting in God’s grace. It requires me to set aside the fears I’ve collected from past hurts, and to embrace Danger when I want to run, because I know in my heart of hearts that HE IS MY VOCATION. I know this because when I finally am calm and centered (after much deep breathing and chamomile tea), I hear and feel God’s call to marry Danger, loud and crystal clear. He is “the one whom my soul loves” (Song of Songs 3:4), God’s gift to my anxious heart.
God knows me so well.
Sigh, this whole having-a-grown-up-relationship thing is really hard. Like ironically (and comically) hard for this marriage therapist. I’m so thankful I have God to rely on for help. And Mother Mary. And all the saints. And all the angels. Heaven knows I need it!