Today is our 20th wedding anniversary. Yes, we can believe it. And no, we can’t believe it!
Once upon a time, a ranch foreman who had given up on women and a horse trainer with a boyfriend back in Kansas, met on Valentine’s Day in the Hill Country…
“Your boyfriend let you come to Texas without a ring on your finger?! Your boyfriend is a fool.”
We were engaged a month later and married eight months after that. St. Isidore’s Catholic Church. K-State campus. November 9, 2002. A fall wedding in Kansas is a bit of a gamble, but it was 70-something and sunny. Because, why wouldn’t it be? It was a game day and there were a lot of happy Wildcats honking and cheering us on as we crossed the threshold as husband and wife.
20 years later, we have three teenage boys, good jobs, and all we need. I just finished my second class in my graduate program, and my husband has been unbelievably supportive. Not only like not complaining when I’m holed up on the computer, or saying “You’ve got this!”, but also like…
Marriage is one of the best and hardest things there is. I have talked to three different people this week who may or may not have used the “D” word, but are wondering if their marriages are going to survive, or if they’re going to die trying to make it work. I’ve never forgotten what my married friends said, both having been married twice before…
“We could have made our first marriage work, if we had just known how much work marriage is.” Yesterday, she lived through the date of his death for the fourth time. It’s hard to call it an anniversary.
I no longer have the privilege of celebrating an anniversary without thinking about a time when celebrating them might end, and dreading them might begin. Grieving spouses are great teachers. They help me believe in the depth of my husband’s love for me.
Two years after her death, a grieving husband told me on Monday, “I still look for her.”
“I know she’s not there, but I still look for her.”
This helps me to know that if I should die, I will not be dead to my husband. Even after a long time. It also reminds me that he is looking for me, now.
And this is a really good thing to see and know and be reminded of. Because sometimes my husband is bringing me a plate of bite-sized meat and buttered potatoes, and sometimes he’s gone for two weeks, and I feel like an acquaintance on a good day and a beggar on a bad one. Please, sir, can you spare just a little bit of time? Under the right circumstances, I can convince myself that I am destined for leftovers, and it’s embarrassingly easy to despair.
As much I would like to say this is old news, I just about blew it again this weekend. More time away for him, a big paper due for me, and patience, charity, and anything that feels like love at all seems to fly right out the window. We were supposed to overnight in San Antonio to watch a boy and a band march at the Alamodome and go for a hike the next day. Storms were coming in, I was on the fence, and he didn’t want to spend the trip in silence, so…
So, after 20 years, I realized something. I realized that I was withholding my love because in my wounded and selfish heart, I didn’t think he deserved it. When I actually admitted this to myself, I was ashamed. I was ashamed because that is not who I am. I believe in giving my love to everyone, especially to those who don’t deserve it. And he does deserve it. Every bit of it.
I assured him the weekend wouldn’t pass in silence. We went, and had a wonderful time.
I cringe at the thought that I almost bagged the whole thing. Over seven miles, we walked and talked about the meaning of life and happiness and the two times in our 20 years of marriage I told him to go-fly-a-kite with fewer words and no kite. He’s forgiven me, but he still remembers how many times it happened. Twice…
I was reading a book about parenting teenagers yesterday because it’s so easy and I love reading about how easy it is. (HA.Ha.ha) Anyway, I came across this great quote. I think it fits nicely here, as we own our mistakes, and let the good and bad all go together somehow, like they do…
One of the most widespread superstitions is that every man has his own special, definite qualities: That a man is kind, cruel, wise, stupid, energetic, apathetic, etc. Men are not like that…men are like rivers…every river narrows here, is more rapid there, here slower, there broader, now clear, now cold, now dull, now warm. It is the same with men. Every man carries in himself the germs of every human quality, and sometimes one manifests itself, sometimes another, and the man often becomes unlike himself, while still remaining the same man. -Tolstoy
The only thing harder than living with someone in marriage, is living without them. Yes, it is normal for it to be “this hard.” Keep fighting for what is worth fighting for. Find the good and circle around it. Forgive the rest and begin again.
Happy 20th Anniversary to Us, and Love and Encouragement to all…
