lino – Ellie Di Julio

Begin again: a new marriage

At long last, the story of our 10-year vow renewal. A resurrection story told in vows, photos, scripture, and song.

As you may recall, my husband and I decided to renew our vows for our 10-year anniversary back in June. And while the actual event was for less than 40 people in a small backyard, it was the most important event in our lives, second only to our salvations.

And because it is such a big freaking deal, I naturally wanted to write and tell you all about it. But I don’t know how.

So instead of trying to capture the fullness of it in a story, this post is a collage of moments that, I hope, reveal the tenderness of this day that was more like a baptism—a consecration, a resurrection—than a wedding.

Dear Ellie, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for my moments of faithlessness, and how that hurt us. I’m sorry for my anger, and the chaos it caused. I’m sorry for not listening, for being more focused on being right than being compassionate. I’m sorry for the times I didn’t cover you, for the times you were left to figure things out on your own. I’m sorry for the man I was when we met, and that you had to be present as I figured out who I was and what mattered.

Most of all though, I’m sorry I didn’t lead us to Christ sooner, that it took things falling so far into seeming hopelessness before suggesting that, perhaps, we could find reprieve in God.

Before you, our friends, our family, our daughter, and our God above, I repent for these things. Please forgive me. (I do.)

In the past ten years I have learned, essentially, that C.S. Lewis was correct about love, and my own understanding was flawed. He says: “Ceasing to be ‘in love’, in the way that we were in love the day before our wedding, need not mean ceasing to love. Love in this second sense — love as distinct from ‘being in love’ — is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit; reinforced by the grace which both partners ask, and receive, from God. They can have this love for each other even at those moments when they do not like each other; as you love yourself even when you do not like yourself. They can retain this love even when each would easily, if they allowed themselves, be ‘in love’ with someone else. ‘Being in love’ first moved them to promise fidelity: this quieter love enables them to keep the promise. it is on this love that the engine of marriage is run being in love was the explosion that started it.”

I couldn’t phrase it better myself. God, work, commitment, grace, and habit—these things are the new foundation of this marriage.

Ellie Di Julio, I promise hence forth…

To love you unconditionally, without expectations or conditions, without reservation, and to choose to do this every day no matter what struggles we may be facing.

To cover you and our family with Godly wisdom, and to lead our house in all ways, regardless of how uncomfortable it may make me.

To focus my attention on you, every day, and to choose you as a priority, as my favourite human.

To remain steadfast in my faith and work daily to keep our family on that narrow road which leads to life. Whether in the good or the bad, to remind us that He is a good God.

To be slow to anger, patient and understanding, eager to listen, that I might benefit from your wisdom and your gifts.

To be faithful to you, and only you, from now till the end of our time here.

These things, in front of all assembled and our Heavenly Father, I promise to you.

I never thought we would be standing here.

12 years ago, I wasn’t interested in getting married. 7 years ago, I didn’t know Jesus. 6 years ago, I thought we were getting divorced. But here we are.

The marriage we’ve had over the past 10 years is not the marriage we have starting today. Because God has rewritten our stories, individually and together.

Today we have the chance to honor God’s miraculous healing of our relationship by making a completely new covenant.

To me, that begins with washing away the old one. And that begins with repentance and forgiveness.

I repent to you, Lino. For punishing you with expectations. For being unfaithful. For giving up. For my stubbornness, my withholding, my distance, and my rage. I’m sorry for the thousand cuts of the last ten years.

Do you forgive me? (I do.)

And I forgive you, Lino. For hiding from me. For straying. For silencing my conscience. I forgive your stubbornness, your withholding, your distance, and your rage. I forgive the thousand cuts of the last ten years.

Do you receive my forgiveness? (I do.)

All of this is washed away, now, by the precious blood of Jesus.

And because 10 is the number of completion, now we get to close the book on our old marriage and start over fresh. A new marriage full of new promises.

Lino, I promise you that I am here, with you and for you.

I promise to back your play, to look out for your best interests, and to believe in you when you don’t believe in yourself.

I promise to have right priorities. To put God first and to put you ahead of myself; to allow you to have your rightful place as the leader of our family and to honor your decisions once they’re made.

I promise to fight fair, to speak the truth with love, and to receive correction with as much grace as I can muster.

I promise to protect my heart, to be fully yours in every way, to seek you out first and only.

I promise to stop throwing away your stuff without asking first, to cook breakfast for dinner at least once a week, to always cry at the end of 300.

I promise that I will love you for who you are and for who you’re becoming, through all our changes, inside and out, until God calls us home.

I saw Heaven and earth new-created. Gone the first Heaven, gone the first earth, gone the sea. I saw Holy Jerusalem, new-created, descending resplendent out of Heaven, as ready for God as a bride for her husband. I heard a voice thunder from the Throne: “Look! Look! God has moved into the neighborhood, making his home with men and women! They’re his people, he’s their God. He’ll wipe every tear from their eyes. Death is gone for good—tears gone, crying gone, pain gone—all the first order of things gone.” The Enthroned continued, “Look! I’m making everything new.” [Revelation 21:1-5 MSG]

This is my resurrection day
Nothing’s gonna hold me in the grave
This is my resurrection day
Nothing’s gonna hold me down
Say goodbye to my yesterdays
Ever since I met you I am changed
This is my resurrection day
Nothing’s gonna hold me down
.
Rend Collective, “Resurrection Day”

The State of the Ellie: October 2019

Waiting on immigration (still), the Long Walk, werewolf toddler, body squish, and the lightning round.

The top-of-my-head update was awesome last time, so I’m doing it again. I admit this one is a bit janky, though. September was overflowing with busyness; October is shaping up to be more so; and I have eleventy-billion things clamoring for my attention right now. It makes it tough to focus. Also, 400 words died in a tragic misclicking accident, but this is already late, so apologies for the clunkiness. Onward!

Nope. Still don’t know when we’re leaving.

Immigration and the Florida Move (which sounds like a terrible island-rock band) are ongoing but without updates. A piece of paper here, a list of forms there. But no matter how many times people ask me when we’re going (or if we’re still going at all), my answer doesn’t change. I don’t know because it’s not up to me. Arabic has a great word for this that runs through my brain whenever the question comes up: inshallah, meaning “if God wills it.” I’m thinking of having it tattooed on my forehead.

In practical terms, we’re waiting for a letter with a special number that unlocks the online application process, which should speed things up. Math tells us we’re still looking at 6-14 weeks before we have the visa in hand, though. Woof.

And it was the best long walk ever.

Lino and his band of ruffians did their incredible Road to Recovery event a couple of weeks ago, and it was far and away the most successful year ever. New people marched the 148-kilometer distance, new Legion branches supported, there were tanks(!), and at current, the total raised for Operation: Leave the Streets Behind is over $60,000 and climbing—every cent of which goes to veterans facing homelessness.

I’m so wildly proud of my husband for the work he does with this organization. For the past six years, he’s put in countless hours of work to ensure that veterans and first responders are taken care of the way they should be. He never falters in his kindness, never fails to be cheerful despite blisters and sunburn and exhausted limbs. It’s his passion, a godly calling, and it shows.

If you’d like to donate to the cause, the page is up until November when the team presents a big ol’ cheque to the Legion. Click here to contribute!

Mackenzie is in a season of transition, not unlike that of a werewolf.

All month long, Mackenzie’s been riding some sort of emotional rollercoaster, the design of which is a secret even after she’s passed through the loops and dives. She’s alternately intensely clingy and intensely independent; she’s napping again but fighting bedtime; she’s more kind than ever and more manipulative, too; she’s creating extensive stories in her imagination that are sometimes delightful, sometimes horrific.

It’s a lot. For her and for me. There’s been a lot of snuggles and quiet talks and tears and discipline. Not saying who got what, but we’re navigating it together, one day at a time.

And every once in a while, she says or does something big kids do, and it reminds me that she’s only little for a little while. That, for better or worse, we’ll only be here once. It helps me to be patient; it makes her a bit concerned about why mommy is crying. It’s bittersweet, the quintessence of parenting.

On the upside, we’re watching Hilda together, and she loves it. Sharing things you love with your kid is the best.

My body is squishy again, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

Between an ever-busier schedule and the carb-heavy diet our budget allows, my body isn’t gaining back its muscle and tone the way I’d hoped. The scale hasn’t shifted beyond normal fluctuations, and my clothes fit fine, but when I’m sitting on the couch, walking around without pants (don’t judge me, you do it, too), and getting ready in the morning, I notice softness where things were firm not long ago. And it makes me feel weird.

Last August, God asked me to trust that I wouldn’t fall back into disordered eating if worked out and tracked food to take care of my body. And I did. And it went great! (I should write a thing about this.) But after a break and this returning squish, I’m wondering if the challenge in my healing was not last year when I began, but now when I think I’ve arrived, that I’m “over it.” It may be.

Fortunately, my spiritual muscles haven’t softened, and I’m confident in Him to hold my worries for me so I don’t have to sweat it. (Well, beyond actual sweat. Still gotta get those gains.) I’m also actively choosing to embrace my body, no matter how squishy, for the bizarrely wonderful creation it is. I love my little godpod.

The lightning round

I learned so much about myself with the podcasting fast early in the month. The reset what super good for my brain. More about that in this giant post.
I decided to do Inktober this year for reasons I don’t understand. It’s way out of my area of expertise, and I’m bending the rules a bit, but it’s fun. Join me?
I made my first tres leches cake with a friend, and it came out pretty good! We definitely learned a lot about milk.
Lino went off coffee last month due to tummy issues and switched to tea, but I cannot for the life of me remember to make it for him. I hate tea. But I hate not being able to get in the bathroom more, so I shall persevere.
I volunteered to organize a staycation version of our church‘s women’s retreat this weekend! I am super excited! I have no idea what I’m doing! It’s going to be great!
I’m taking a class about the biblical concept of renewing your mind, through a neuropsychology lens, and it is blowing my mind. Definitely more on this later.

Now you! Tell me what’s been going on in your world this past month? What’s been good? Not so good? Let’s chat in the comments.

How we killed and resurrected our marriage: a 10-year anniversary story

No one’s more surprised that we’re still married than my husband and me. By all rights, we shouldn’t be. Let me tell you the story. [VIDEO]

I never expected to be married for 10 years.

Hell, I never expected to be married at all.

And six years ago, I expected to be divorced by now.

Lino and I haven’t had an easy marriage. It started out strong—we coasted on the heady fumes of infatuation way longer than most couples—but when the rosy glow wore off, things broke bad. Real bad.

I’m talking lies, gaslighting, manipulation, cheating, separation. Horrible stuff. No one would’ve blamed us for walking away. In fact, most of our friends and family gently (and not so gently) encouraged us to do just that. Sometimes we encouraged it, too.

While we didn’t hate each other, we sure as hell didn’t like each other—not to speak of love. Everything about our relationship screamed divorce. And yet, no matter what awfulness we perpetrated against each other, we stayed together.

But rather than try to explain WHY in writing, I want to tell you in person.

So grab your drink and settle in. It’s story time.

Click here to read/download the transcript.

Now, I tell you that story to tell you this one:

This weekend, Lino and I are renewing our vows.

Ten is the number of completion, so our 10th anniversary is the perfect time to close the book on the story of our old marriage and to forge a new covenant, to start a new life with Christ at the center.

We’re bringing every broken promise, every wound, every sin to the altar where we’ll repent and forgive, washing away our past, then make new vows to honor one another and the God who’s always had our backs, even when they were turned on each other.

Honestly, it’s more like a baptism than a wedding.

I don’t know what the next ten years will hold. While our relationship is wildly better than it was, it’s not perfect (not that it ever will be). We still fight, still ignore each other, still overwork, still cling to old hurts. We’re still human.

But what I do know is that the God who started a good work in us is faithful to complete it—and he’s done some killer work so far. The three of us are on an adventure together, walking the long road from where we started to where we’re going, and only one of us knows the way. So Lino and I will follow, carrying only what we need as we start this next phase of the journey, our eyes on the horizon, watching as the sun rises on a new day.

“If anyone is enfolded into Christ, he has become an entirely new creation. All that is related to the old order has vanished. Behold, everything is fresh and new.” [2 Corinthians 5:17 TPT]

Sometimes you find a rock right when you need it the most

Of job loss, scarcity demons, uncertainty, stones, and–most importantly–hope.

It’s been a long ~~week~~ ~~month~~ season. Since the start of the year, I’ve been pressed, squeezed, and tested in ways I never imagined I would be, much less that I’d survive. I’ve been more excited and sure than ever; I’ve cried and doubted more than ever. Life has been increasingly wondrous and terrifying at the same time.

Perhaps the biggest suckerpunch of all came last week, when my husband was told his last day of work is May 31st. After 10 years of service, loyally shepherding the company and its people, his job is being “phased out” because his company is “restructuring,” and there are no plans for him to “transition” to a new role. Which wouldn’t call for scare quotes if they hadn’t promoted the protege of the most money-hungry, least compassionate director in the company the same week.

Translation: Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.

I got the news in the car headed for the Disney Store. (Their displays are always changing, they have shows to watch, and they don’t care if you’re not buying. It’s like going to the playground without getting all that nature on you.)

My body autopiloted us to the mall. My brain seized up, whirring in processing mode, trying to comprehend what the news meant for us.

Both of us came from low-income families, and Lino worked sacrificially hard to get into this tax bracket. It’s allowed me the freedom to be a housewife, to build businesses and write books, and to stay home with our daughter. It’s been an honor and a privilege for us to be a single-income household.

But suddenly being a no-income household is uncharted territory, and my old scarcity demon seized its chance to claw its way up from the depths.

Strict budget. Meal planning. Cut the gym. EI. Get a real job. Daycares are full. Sell the car. Cancel life insurance. Get to the dentist and fill prescriptions before the benefits end. Cancel your anniversary.

The familiar litany of fear and control rolled through me as I got Mackenzie into the stroller. The parking lot was fill of warm sun and the sweet smell of spring, but they couldn’t reach me. I was tumbling too fast down a darkening path, getting lost in thoughts I didn’t want to think.

That’s why I’m surprised I noticed it.

A tiny splash of fuchsia on the concrete by the automatic door into the mall.

I swerved sharply to look. And when I realized what it was, tears sprung into my eyes.

Hope.

One word. That’s all. Painted on a stone lying right where I would see it. Dozens of people had passed it in the time it took us to cross the parking lot, but no one had noticed it. Except me.

I picked up the stone and closed my fingers around it like a lifeline, its reassuring weight in my palm also gently pushing down my rising anxiety.

Thank you, but no. You aren’t needed. She is taken care of. She is mine. Stand down.

“What you find, Mommy?”

I opened my hand to show her.

“What is it?”

“It says, hope.“

“Why?”

“God’s trying to tell Mommy something.”

I gave the stone another squeeze and tucked it into my pocket, then hit the button to open the door, leaving behind fear with every step.

There is hope, even here.