A Cure for Cynicism

Waiting at the bus stop yesterday I found myself spying on a couple standing next to me. They were young, about my age. He was tall and blonde, that all-American clean cut look, and she had long wavy brown hair, a sharp nose and friendly eyes. They weren't saying much, just chatting about bus directions, but in their silences they'd lock eyes and smile, clearly happy to be around the other.

Blame it on my recent string of romantic failures, but Shannon's inner cynic was wide awake and louder than ever, watching that cuddly bus couple and mentally tearing them a new one. "So cute now, sure. But give it a few more months, and then see how excited he is to be with you, honey. He'll get bored. Or he'll move. Or change his mind. Or just forget to call you." My rambly, bitter internal monologue was cut short however, when I noticed they were both wearing wedding rings.

Waitjustasecond. That wasn't at all the story I had made up for them in my head.

Once on the bus, the young wife read outloud bus transfers and street intersections to her baby-faced husband; they were clearly not local. I spoke up, "Where are you guys from?"

"Spokane," she said.

"Oh, ok. So, a little from out of town. Can I help you find your stop?"

Turns out they were getting off at the same stop I was, so they relaxed a bit and we chatted. I was too curious not to ask, "How long have you been married?"

Her face lit up. She put her arms around him and answered, "6 years."

"6 YEARS? Wait - woah, you guys are... you must be..."

She rescued me from my shocked sputtering, "I was 17 when we got married. He was 19."

That sent my brain on a tailspin. Married at 17! Any rational adult would have discouraged her from even thinking about such a decision, but here they were, 6 years later, still liking each other, a young, defiant exception to modern day marriage conventions.

She saw my jaw on the floor and laughed, "You should see people's faces when we tell them that we have two kids!"

I don't think I could even say anything for a few moments. I just stared at them in wonder. Finally I marveled, "...wow. Two kids. And it's worked for you guys? You like being married?"

She grabbed her husband (who was now smiling sheepishly at all of the attention) even tighter and sighed, "It's wonderful! I always heard that it gets more difficult, but nothing was as hard as that first year. Every year since then has just gotten better and better. He's perfect."

Maybe it was the getting married young thing, or the Spokane thing, or the glow in her face when she talked about marriage, but I felt pretty confident asking, "Are you guys Christian?" Turns out they were and we gave each other a little "Yeah we love Jesus" fist bump.

At this point we had gotten off of the bus at our stop and discovered that we had the same transfer bus to wait for as well! Which meant I got to talk to them even more. Her story is amazing:

Before she was a Christian she had been dating an abusive young man. Isolated from people, her life was pretty grim when a girl from school threw her a birthday party. She described that party, as strange as it sounds, as an act of love that turned her life around. She became good friends with the girl who had reached out to her and found in her a Christian mentor. She broke up with the abusive boyfriend, but found out soon afterwards that she was pregnant. So here she was, pregnant, single, 17 and then in walks Mr. Future Husband. As they began dating, she warned him she needed someone who was serious. So he proposed, they were married just 3 months after their first date, and he adopted her baby soon after that! 6 years later, here they were in Seattle, taking their first vacation ever away from the kids.

"You know that story Jesus tells about the man who owes 50 denarii and the one who owes 500?" she finished her story by asking. "The moneylender forgives them both and Jesus asks 'Which man loves the moneylender more?' "

I answered for her, "Right, the one who owed 500."

"Yeah!" She put her hand to her chest, "That's me. I have been forgiven more."

"You just made my night." I told her.

"Really?" she asked. She seemed surprised.

I honestly cannot imagine the kinds of struggles that come with being a 17-year old wife and mother, and she probably had her fair share of unhappiness and regret and fear, but the person I met at the bus stop was not grieving her missed opportunities. She didn't seem to be spending much time thinking about the life she could have led, the big "what ifs" that can make us so discontent. She was happy to have her young, quiet husband and her two kids. Grateful to be safely on the other side of what looked like a hopeless beginning.

Last week I told a friend that I've had the impulse lately to stand on a hilltop, arms wide out and scream to the heavens, "Alright, World! I'm bitter. Are you happy? The most cheerful person on the planet is now a cynic! Congratulations, you won!"

But that was last week. And if that bus stop story isn't a cure for cynicism, I don't know what is.