As a disclaimer, I am no authority on marriage. I've never been married and don't have advice to offer. I am invaluable apart from what God chooses to speak through me. I am an empty slate, stumbling through the ropes of learning this new life-skill. Such learning is hard and sometimes painful. I write these words less on an emotional cloud and more with sleepy eyes and a headache. Honesty does not come easy, but honesty is what I'm after, and I simply want to show you one man's stumbling through a desire to learn to love his wife.



For those of you married or soon-to-be, you've likely been recommended books on marriage. Some of you may be required to read such books as part of a pre-marriage counseling program. Being engaged as I am, I fall somewhere in this category. Some close friends have recommended marriage books, and the church has a punch list of books they recommend as well. Cara and I have begun our pre-marriage counseling, and I expect some reading as part of that program. I love to read(reed) and wish I read(red) more than I do. What better opportunity to become better-read(red) than to read(reed) through this ever-growing stack of marriage books sitting in front of me?

But marriage books? Really? Aren't they just self-help books with a twist of Chicken Soup for Mardel's Profit's Soul? How many editions of The 5 Love Languages does it take to get the point across? What, again, is the point? Do I really fit in one of five pretty little boxes? Who decided there were five? What would happen if a dissheveled, pipe-smoking, Gandalf-like professor emerged from a cave in Egypt with an ancient scroll revealing a long-lost sixth love language? How would Dr. Gary Chapman respond? My money says he'd make BFF with this Gandalf-person and a motley band of his five(one for each language) back cover endorsers, which include NASCAR driver Darryl Waltrip(not a joke), Kirk Cameron(a joke on many levels), and Elijah Wood on an epic quest to fling the sixth scroll into the fires of Mount Ararat, and thus restore peace and order to Dr. Gary Chapman's publishing empire.

A stretch though that may be, do you blame me for a tinge of skepticism at anything turned face up on the Lifeway shelves, a la Joel Osteen and Joyce Meyer? I'm not out to slam highly successful self-help authors such as those(wink), but to express my concern that even those authoring books on marriage - that most sacred of rites - are not exempt from the draws of commercial success that consume so many in the lucrative industry of Christian media. I want to believe the author has my best interests in mind, so forgive me for doubting this when the new marriage book is packaged with as little humility as those of previously mentioned 'authors'.

I remember, however, who recommended these books. These are my friends and a church I love and trust. Whatever my concerns about media companies, my friends are of good and loving motive. They want the best for me. I am thankful that my friends and the church care enough to help prepare couples for married life. Under this pretense, maybe I can give these books an honest chance. Since honesty is such a big part of marriage, and thus my pursuit, I've decided to apply honesty to my decision to push through in reading these marriage books. Despite my concerns, I shall read them with an open mind, but even better, I will take you along for the ride.
Over the next few months, I will read through these marriage books, which I've listed below. I expect much surprise, frustration, and relief at what I read, and I will do my best to let all those reactions show in these letters.


The books I will read are:
The Five Love Languages - Gary Chapman
Rocking the Roles - Robert Lewis
His Needs, Her Needs - William F. Harley, Jr.
When Sinners Say 'I Do' - Dave Harvey
Men Are Like Waffles--Women Are Like Spaghetti - Bill & Pam Farrel

I will read them in this order and write after each one is completed, a process I expect to take less than 61 days, which happens to be the exact time left till I get married. I hope you gather some benefit (or entertainment, at least) from my journey, and I promise to open my ears and listen to what the writers have to say.

Beyond the writing, I'm excited about the task at hand. I've written previously on preparing my home for Cara's arrival. In similar fashion, I've titled this series 'Preparing a Heart'. I realize more every day how much room I have to grow and mature in preparing to be Cara's husband; I have a long way to go. If you'll join me for this while, I trust by my example God will widen your path, if for no other reason than to sidestep my wreckage.

I feel so refreshed when a singer is honest, and remains honest over a sustained period of time. Maybe 'refreshed' is not so much my feeling as it is 'suprise'. I am surprised by a voice I've heard for over ten years on various records, and I'm surprised most in knowing that voice has not changed, but has remained remarkably consistent in conveying the simple and humble message of the love of Christ.

I know you already guessed it, but I'm referring to Chris Rice, who in his pursuit to become evermore irrelevant on the Christian music charts, has actually made some of his best music in recent years. I understand that the industry of Christian music needs exciting product to keep the revenues high. I don't blame them for this reality, and I have no problem with them producing music they determine can market well to mass audiences. Within the industry of music entertainment, this is necessary. Fortunately for believers, our music doesn't require the approval of ever-shifting popular culture, and the yoke is thus quite easy in comparison.

When I listen, for example, to Chris Rice's 'Peace Like a River: The Hymns Project', I am reminded that the music of the church has sustained itself for thousands of years not on the backbone of mass-industry, but in the hearts and mouths of Christ-followers who, in humility, confessed His love with their songs. Chris seems to capture this truth, and his renditions humble me in knowing I am a participant in the same songs my ancestors sang through times of joy and times of great oppression. Chris is singing, and the saints are at my side, and we are singing with him.

I hope I never underestimate the power of the church's liturgy - that is, the practices of the church that have withstood all cultural pressures, be they of popular culture or persecution. I think I enjoy Chris's voice because the honesty and brokenness I sense makes me believe I am listening to the voice of the Christian church. He sings as one who knows both the cost and joy of a life confessed fully to the purgative power of Christ. In short, I hear humility in his voice, and it's humility that I want. I want to be nothing before Christ. I don't want to sound exciting or marketable; I don't even want to sound good. I just want to be honest, and in humility offer my very small gift of praise to Christ, whose love will forever frustrate my flesh and nurture my soul.

I don't write this to lift anyone up where they should not go. My cap tips, however, to Chris Rice for faithfully pursuing the message of Christ, and, in passing that message on to us, reminding us that the old, boring, unmarketable hymns carry the weight of the fathers and the legacy of faith we carry today. This approach does not sell a lot of records, and many people will end up forgetting you exist. But, the message of the cross has been passed down on such backs, and I carry a debt of gratitude to Chris for using his immense talent to remind us that Christ is the picture of humility, and He remembers our faithfulness long after we are forgotten. I can rest in that.

There's 1:44 left in Boston's sick beating of the LA Lakers to win their 17th championship. They're up by 43 points and just pouring it on. They are beating the Lakers like a rented mule. And Kevin Garnett, now at the pinnacle of his great career, can't help but celebrate this moment by dropping a string of celebratory profanities bad enough for ABC to cut audio for three five-second intervals...all within about 30 seconds. I don't know why that amazes me. Kevin Garnett was knows for his mouth before becoming a Celtic, and Bostonians drop f-bombs like clocks tick. I guess I want to believe athletes are more than just athletes, but role models as well. I do think that some are, but at the moment, Kevin Garnett is an amazing athlete who entertains with his skill. That's it.

..........

The game is over now. The Celtics won. Kevin Gartnett was interviewed right after the game. Again, he lets his tongue fly, and ABC, being the wise editors they are, put him on a 6-second delay and cut the audio. This is now the sixth audio cut I've counted in the last five minutes, all due to KG's mouth. At some point this became laughable. I don't remember when; all the bleeps must have distracted me.

I must be crazy to write what I'm about to write. Feel free to hunt me down and hang me, but I'm afraid I agree with something Mahmoud Ahmadinejad said.

In this article, Ahmadinejad states his case on oil prices and the U.S. dollar. I hate, hate, hate to say it, but he may have a point. AT THE LEAST, he has a case and claim worth considering. Before I really drop off a cliff and suggest Iran might actually be pursuing nuclear power for economic development only, someone send me something that suggests otherwise.

Don't get me wrong, I don't dance at the idea of Iran being a thriving nation or Ahmadinejad being right on anything, but could he be right on this?

As I write this, I am drenched in sweat. Actually, I was drenched in sweat. That sweat is now dried into my shirt and emitting a fragrance that is some mix of sweat, plywood, dirt, and mustard. I also just tooted, which felt great and for which - after a long days work - I offer no apology.

Today I helped build a home in east Fort Worth with Habitat for Humanity. My employer, TD Ameritrade, sponsored a house and gave me the day off to offer my contribution. I spent the day helping frame the roof, which should be completed tomorrow. It was nice at the end of the day, seeing how far we came, starting with just a plywood skeleton, and by the end beginning to look like a real roof. I don't remember who the lady is whose home we are building, but I'm excited for her anyway, and am glad to be a part of that effort.

Meanwhile, I have my own projects back at Casa de Deano. With my dad's guidance, I've recently repainted the back-side trim, re-caulked the bathtubs and the kitchen sink, fixed a door that literally fell off, completely re-do a bathroom skylight area, and will soon repaint the front entrance to the house, among some other projects. I do all this in preparation for my new roommate, Cara. I don't know how long we'll be in this house, but I am doing what I can to make sure we start our marriage focused on our new life together and not all the broken things we have to fix.

The fun aspect of home-building a home is you never really finish. Some people might see call this a negative, but I see building a house as allegorical to much of our personal growth. We are always in process; never quite finished and hopefully renewing and refreshing prior areas of development. A complacent house rots, and so does the heart and mind. We are always in process.

I'm very excited for the soon-to-be homeowner in the house I worked on today. I feel that in my own way I can relate to the anticipation of memories to come, as I feel I am, in my own way, building a home as well. In both cases, the page is turning and a new chapter is about to begin. I'm glad to have been a part of this lady's story, and I'm glad that she, while not knowing it, has become a part of mine.

That's all I've got for now, as I have to get in the shower, which will be long and cold and wonderful. I may have to burn my clothes. I can taste my stink.

I'm excited about getting married. If that's not the biggest 'duh' statement of my life, well, it is, but I digress. The date draws near, now less than five months away. There is so much left to plan and sort out. Cara is moving some of her furniture when she comes to Fort Worth next month for my brother's wedding. Did I mention I'm going to Arkansas this weekend for her sister's wedding? Or what about August, when Cara's bridesmaid and my groomsman get married (to other people) in back to back weeks? I'm still holding out that another wedding will somehow happen this year that I'm not yet aware of.

2008 is officially the year of the wedding, and I am glad to offer my contribution to that effort. On October 25th, Cara and I will cross that line and start our life together. The road will wind and bump and be filled with all kinds of oddities, but I trust that God has His plan for us, and we are open to His direction. I think I say that because I mean to recognize God's overwhelming presence and movement in our relationship and the steps we've taken therein. I also say it to remain humble, and to recognize my place before Him. And, with all that said, I am excited. Excitement is a wonderful feeling and a special gift from God that we might feel and enjoy. As I've written before, I do not make the mistake of assuming life will always be exciting or that excitement is what I should strive for. Neither are true, and much of our growth in love and faith with God happens outside these times. In my excitement, however, I am encouraged and renewed in my belief that Christ will lead me in all ways at all times.

I look forward to stepping into my role as Cara's husband, lover, friend, and provider. I've no doubt that these roles will come with great challenges and a good deal of heartache. My excitement does not blind me from these truths, but arms me with the knowledge that in the trials we will face, the same joy in Christ that fuels our current excitement will also fuel our future perseverance in the face of such trials. The joy and hope of Christ is our common thread; our Rock in both calm seas and high waters. I am thankful for the calm waters of today, and on the watch for the high waters of tomorrow. But, being the present calm waters that they are, I smile, relax, and enjoy His blessing bestowed, and allow myself to get caught up in the excitement of what He's preparing for us together.

I haven't written anything in awhile. I'm still engaged, which is great, except for not wanting to be engaged anymore. I of course mean that in a good way. I'm very excited about being near and dear to my best friend, about spending life with her.

I feel bad about something I recently said to her. I'll be sure and tell her soon, so she doesn't find out here, though since no one reads this blog I assume she'd be the first to know either way. She wants to see the movie 'Baby Mama'. I don't. Self-contained within the argument of whether that movie is worth paying for, I still believe my opinion is correct, as my opinions in my mind often are. The broader question, however, of a working relationship's need for self-sacrifice and service means my opinion, though correct within its context, exists in a context too narrow and small to serve the broader - and better - point. In short, I still think I'm right, but we'll see how far that gets me when I want to make out.

Beyond making out (which I do love so), I enjoy drawing closer to Cara, and I appreciate that I therefore get to share in activities I would never, never do myself. That's right, gents, I said 'get to', because we know there are parts of those awful chick flicks we like that we don't admit. Many are shallow, but some are actually good. Regardless, there is inherent value in sharing activities together, even those activities one party might not be drawn to individually. I'm drawn to depth of character, plot, and script. Cara is drawn to stories of two people falling in love. We are both, however, drawn to each other first, and we step into each other's realm of interest willingly and in love.

All said, God is teaching me all these new ways I can love Cara better, and in doing so honor him. I'm getting off the movie train for awhile as blog posts go, but I felt this was an appropriate chapter on the heels of my prior reviews. I'm learning that Cara and I are (gasp) different in our movie tastes, but more that we're just different people. I know God desires us to strengthen each other out of our differences, and I believe He's leading us in that way.

Let it be known - the official word is in.

The fauxhawk will go down as the corniest hairdo of this decade.

Selah.

Here's a few thoughts from the recent Texas Primaries I want to get down and may write more about later.

1. I stood in line for 30 minutes...just to get in the building. The other party's primary line, who for the sake of anonymity we'll call "Prebubricans", didn't exist. At least 5 times a older black man with a long chin goatee came out and yelled, "Do we have any 'Prerubricans'? Any Prerubricans, your line is inside the building."

Silence, followed by laughter...

My line, we'll call "Femmirats" grew all the larger, and by the time I left the polling station, the primary line was likely an hour out the door, and the caucus crowd was row-day. I declined to stay for that circus.

2. I'm in my polling station, and I admittedly don't know the first thing about everyone not running for President. I'm guilty, I admit it. BUT, the guy in the next station says from behind the curtain, 'Hey, who's some good names to vote for on this thing.' I was tempted to say 'Nathan Dean, but he's a write in, so just write his name in between the chads. It's a can't miss.'

We all know we're lazy on knowing our local representatives come election time. Local-level political aspirations are won and lost by all the yahoos and their arbitrary chad-punching. I'm one of them and I don't defend it, but can we at least say that a new threshold is crossed when you ask the guy in the adjacent station 'who should I vote for'?



--
"Exit, pursued by a bear."

- William Shakespeare, 'The Winter's Tale'


http://nathandean.blogspot.com

Hey world-that-won't-see-this, I saw Enchanted at the theatre last night. "But Nathan, hasn't that been out on video for months now?" I really don't know, but probably. This theatre, however, was the dollar movie, and it was worth every penny.

Right up until the last 5 minutes.

Here we have a movie that spins together themes from most of our favorite animated Disney classics. I won't run through all of them, but focus on the few that serve my forthcoming point. The old, cruel queen stepmother refuses to give up her crown to the true love-to-be of her stepson, Prince Charming. The entire movie, she plots and schemes to deny (and eventually kill) the fair maiden. I cannot stress this point enough. This theme spans 95% of the film. At the end, the poison apple spell is broken and the maiden brought back to life. The evil stepmother turns into a dragon (a-la-Sleeping Beauty) bent on killing the maiden she has sought to kill the entire movie. Except this doesn't happen. At all.

Instead, the evil stepmother completely changes course and goes after the presumed hero, leaving the fair maiden - the object of her hatred, mind you - safe and free. At that moment, the stepmother ceased to live, to breathe as a character in a story, and became nothing more than a disconnected plot vehicle. The previously-helpless maiden grew a pair, grabbed a sword, and began scaling the tower, chasing after her hero and the dragon who held him captive. eventually to save the not-so-heroic hero.

I actually enjoyed this movie until I was subjected to this horrible trick. This was no story, and no fairy tale. This was a bait-and-switch to serve a feminist agenda. The first 95% of this movie had no threading, no connection to the final 5% of the movie. This was not a movie about feminism or female-empowerment, or whatever you want to call it. Most of this movie was a modern-day rehashing of old fairy tales. The characters had their leanings and motives and grew and learned more about themselves and each other as the story went on. The surprises and twists grew organically out of the story, until the end, that is. The stepmother, who through the entire story was resolute in her focus to destroy fair Giselle, abandons her quest and decides the man must die, leaving the woman to save him. (Not that you couldn't assume this, but it's worth mentioning the man put up no fight. He was snatched up immediately and was helpless the entire climax). The woman found an innate strength not evidenced at any prior point in the film, climbed a treacherous tower, and saved the man. The stepmother/dragon, woman, and man, in abandoning their roles cast for the previous 90 minutes, ceased to be persons at all. They were no longer organic or alive, but puppets for a movie maker's philosophical leanings.

I respect philosophical views different from my own. I reserve the right to whole-handedly disagree with them, but I welcome a forum for differing views. This was not a forum for a feminist philosophy. This was not a movie about female empowerment. This was the Walt Disney Co. taking Walt Disney's traditional fairy tales and playing along with them in a very heartwarming and modern adaptation, only to completely bastardize his entire moral and essentially say 'his story was good, but we like our ending better.' Lacking is the obvious consideration or regard that his story and their ending could not be more incongruous.

All said, 'Enchanted' was an entertaining and visually stimulating rotten, dirty trick. I fear for a world where boys do not rise up and rescue the captive maiden. I fear more for a world where boys are not afforded the opportunity, much more even know their role.

"I think there's a lot better people qualified to say, 'Here's a book to explain the scriptures to you'. I don't think that's my gifting."

- Joel Osteen, on his recent book "Become a Better You", and it's failure to once mention God or Jesus Christ.

Inspiration strikes in funny places. I have written anything on this blog for nearly seven months, in part because I've been busy courting the girl I intend to marry, and in part because I'm just lazy. All that said, I was quite surprised just five minutes ago to discover a topic that has now inspired me to pick up my keyboard and write a new thought for a new year.

I opened my Christmas present from my aunt and uncle. Why they sent it UPS I don't know, as they live in the same city. Regardless, my brother and I opened their Christmas gift to us a few nights ago, and to our surprise we found an array of gift cards worth more than anyone has any business giving us, but you won't find us complaining. Among these was a $50 gift card to Target, which I spent today. My bill was $49.77. I hope you're impressed with me, because I am. What did I buy, however? A blender, in fact. A Black & Decker, 550 watt, 5-speed stainless steel blender. A few questions no doubt come to mind, for which I have a few answers. Why a blender? Because I like to 'blend in'. Wow. I really do like to blend, though. I bought fresh strawberries the other day - the kind so rich and dark you can smell the sweetness only fresh strawberries offer, without ever taking a bite. I bought the strawberries to make strawberry smoothies, only to find out the blender I thought was mine was my brother's, who lives in Austin with his blender. This leads into my second answer for the second and pertinent-to-this-blog question, which is 'Why buy a blender now, when the wedding is around the corner? Good question. We all know receiving a wedding-gift blender is among the great certainties in life.Right there with the tide, and God. The Tide, God, and blenders. The tide, however, won't save my strawberries for two weeks, much less October. God can, but I am small in faith, which leaves the blender.

So here I am in Target, eying my way through the blender aisle. I see many nice blenders of different sizes, colors, and advertised power usage. I went with the 550 watt blender, in case I ever decide to blend, oh, say cubic zirconium.

With all I've said so far (397 words), here finally is my point. No sooner had I reached to pick up my new blender when I stopped dead in my tracks, and paused for a moment of careful consideration. I knew the blender, made of (or made to look like) stainless steel was a safe choice, a neutral color that could fit in a variety of kitchens, including my own. But, what I remembered, what stopped me was the realization that those words, 'my own', were down for the count. I am getting married in nine months, and every decision I made regarding our home must be cleared with my future roommate. At no other point in my life have I stopped to consider whether the color of my kitchen appliance might not fit in with a long-term design plan. I'm not sure I've ever before thought any color on a free appliance could be a bad color. My decisions are no longer my own, and today was just one new way of affirming that wonderful truth. I say wonderful because the payoff delights me to no end. Knowing I get to wake up every morning and see my best friend who I love and who loves me, I like that. I'm thankful that while getting married means an amazing level of commitment and becoming accountable for a large amount of the things I do, that I get to grow into that side of marriage with someone as patient and kind as Cara. I'm getting married, and I will become her husband, and while she will take on my name, I belong to her as well, and I can't wait.

So the moment of realization hits me, standing in the blender aisle at Target, that I am not my own, and neither are my decisions, especially on kitchen appliances. I knew I had no choice on what to do next. I dug my phone out of my pocket from in between all the other giftcards, and gave Cara a call. She patiently told me what colors not to buy, and gave me a short list of good colors, among which was stainless steel. I was in the clear. Armed with a blender and Cara's blessing, I made my purchase and made my smoothie, much to the chagrin of some former strawberries.

I am the luckiest guy on earth. There is a girl 300 miles away that loves me for reasons I'll never understand. All I know is I don't deserve her, and she keeps coming back anyway. I can thank God for that, and do my best to honor his blessing by submitting myself to Him, and submitting in love my decisions and actions to her, my bride and partner in our life together.