ANNIVERSARY 29

I clearly remember the moment I knew I wanted to marry Dick. The subject had never come up between us, and wouldn’t for well over a year, but there was a moment….

We were sitting in front of a waning fire at his house, and I offered to go downstairs to get more wood. He handed me the log carrier and I went to the basement. I filled the carrier and started up the steps. Halfway up, the wood shifted and the entire bundle went crashing down the steps onto his laundry room floor. As I heard his footsteps above me coming to the landing, I was prepared for a sarcastic comment about women hauling wood (and I hate sarcasm).

What I got was a gentle, quiet, “Do you want to try it again?”

I was prepared for cynicism, irritation, or some sort of male claim that HE better perform the task at hand. What I received was understanding and grace. And in that moment I knew that I wanted this man to be the father of my children.

Twenty-nine years ago today, I married that man. And he is every bit the awesome dad to our son that I knew he would be. Even more importantly, he has been a husband full of clear integrity, gentle strength, and daily love, with an amazing servant heart. He has been my rock not just through cancer, but for 29 years.

Ministers allude to “becoming one” during a marriage ceremony, but I don’t know that all marriages are lived out like that. Ours did. There are times that I'm not sure where I end and Dick begins. Despite all of the usual bumps along the way, we melded into one. A strong three-stranded cord of my husband, myself, and God.

We are not big on celebrating anniversaries with expensive gifts, dinners in fancy restaurants or weekend trips away. But every October 1, we are big on thanking God for the blessing of each other. And this year, for the promise of healing that will take us to that 30-year mark next fall.

Happy anniversary, Richie. I love you past the moon and stars, forever.