The State of Our Union

So much to do this week, and so few days with which to do it!
Laundry, dishes, meals, work, homework, defend my marriage....the list is long and formidable.
 It seems that every time I log into Facebook I am learning how my friends feel about gay marriage. That's fine. I don't mind a bit. I like reading about the opinions of others, I am absolutely comfortable seeing differing opinions on the screen in front of me. I am well aware that not everyone shares my beliefs.
I am, however, baffled by the camp which keeps asking me to "Defend Marriage". OK...but are John and I under attack? Are there soldiers? What weapons will they be using? Am I going to need a certified copy of my Marriage License to "Defend Marriage"? Because I can not find my copy, and getting another could take up to 10 days. Is there some kind of color scale to inform me of the level of threat we are currently living under? (Def Com: Rainbow, perhaps?) And most importantly, do any of the 'soldiers' look like Gerard Butler in the movie 300???

For the first two years of our relationship, my attitude towards marriage could best be summed up by using the phrase, "Ehhh." And adding a shoulder shrug for effect. I didn't matter to me. It was a road that I wasn't anxious to walk. There are many convoluted reasons for that, but suffice it to say, it wasn't high on my priority list.
Enter the Tiny Baby Zoe.
Things changed. Our little daughter made me realize that I wanted to be a family. On paper. Legally and for always. In a haze of hormones about a month after her delivery, I openly said to John that I wanted to get married. I was suddenly uncomfortable being "Dad's Girlfriend" to the kids' teachers. I wanted to be "Step mom." I wanted a title, and a role in the family that didn't sound temporary. One that sounded less "Flavor of the Month" and more "This Is The Woman Who Is Responsible For Our Health, Safety, and Daily Vegetable Intake".
Two years passed before we got married. It was not a lavish affair. No professional photographer to document the day, no week long honeymoon in the tropics. But we were married. John and I, together, for better or worse, sickness, health, etc.
Did it change things? Not really. I still did all the things I had done the week before, as did John. The fact of the matter is, it took getting married to figure out that the piece of paper we were issued didn't cement our decision to become a family. That had already been decided years before.

The thing is, as with everything in my life for the past ten years, I am thinking of this particular topic with my "Mom Hat" on, and I can't help but hope that my kids have the right to solidify their family the same way John and I could, no matter who they love.
John is my best friend. He is the first person I call when something good happens. He is my first call when something bad happens. He is who I call when nothing at all happens and I just want to chat. I think when you are blessed enough to find another person with whom you can spend all of your ups and downs....well...I just don't feel comfortable condemning you if your picture doesn't look like mine. And I certainly don't feel as though giving other people the right to marry is somehow a threat to my marriage. I firmly believe there are only two human beings who can present a real danger to my marriage. One is me, the other is John. Because no matter what a third party does or says, ultimately, it is our responsibility to live up to our promises to one another and hold true to the vows we've made.

In closing, I would like to say that The State of the Abramo Union on this March evening is strong. And we are sleepy. And I will continue to pray to God, and ask that he give wisdom to those who have a decision to make, love to those who hate, and forgiveness for us all, because none of us is without sin, and all of us will be judged.