Today, on the 23rd anniversary of our wedding day, I come to you with a heart overflowing with gratitude. Yes, Joan and I chose to be married on Cinco de Mayo of the year 2000. I’m not sure May 5 had a lot of significance, but I will be forever grateful that we chose to marry in a year ending with three zeros. That way, if I know what year it is, I can always answer the question, “So… how long have you two been married?”
I don’t have to work hard to remember the bruised and battered person I was when we walked down the aisle on that warm Friday evening. Not physically mind you, but spiritually and psychically. After a painful divorce three years earlier and the failure of my solo venture into the world of advertising and public relations, the three-legged stool of my identity and self-worth was wobbling badly.
My faith was still there but was hanging on by a thread. I certainly still believed in the idea of God’s unconditional love and forgiveness, but mostly as an abstract theological principle. I was not sure it was something available to the likes of me in that moment.
And yet, here was this radiant, fun-loving, adventurous, kind, compassionate woman standing next to me… preparing to make eternal promises to keep standing there no matter what. She was beautiful inside and out and when she turned and smiled at me, left no doubt in my mind she was there to stay.
“For better or for worse…” as Pastor Dustin prompted us to repeat after him.
I have no doubt at all it was her love and encouragement that helped me see the vision of the new thing waiting to rise from the ashes of my previous existence. Joan was the one who steadfastly believed in me when I didn’t. She knew God had greater designs for my future and urged me to also see and lean into those designs.
Without pushing, cajoling, or insisting, she helped me see that the path to seminary and professional, ordained ministry was not as goofy a path as it sounded to me at first.
Since that day 25 years ago when we first met, Joan has been “God with skin on” in my life. She has been my champion, my encourager, my challenger, my accountability, my harshest critic, my fiercest defender, and the one who has continued to provide a vision of what is possible when I lose sight of it. She is the one who kicks my butt when I need it and strokes my head when that is the touch that is needed.
Every year when this day comes around, I struggle to answer the question, “What can I do to adequately show Joan the depth of my gratitude and love as we mark another year on our journey as husband and wife?” And every year I fail to come up with anything much better than flowers, a card, and dinner.
Maybe this time – besides all those standard, boring celebration devices – I’ll clear my throat, summon my best Elton voice and sing…
It’s a little bit funny; this feeling inside.
It’s not one of those I can easily hide.
I don’t have much money, but girl if I did.
I’d buy a big house where we both could live.
And you can tell everyone
That this is your song.
It may be quite simple, but now that it’s done.
I hope you don’t mind
I hope you don’t mind
That I put down in words
How wonderful life is
While you’re in my world.
I love you, sweetie. Happy anniversary!
Abundant blessings;
In a wholehearted endorsement of the axiom advising us that confession is good for the soul, I offer this mea culpa today:
She was tiny. So tiny the bed covers seemed to swallow her.
From watching the TODAY Show this morning, I learned that today – October 11 – is the International Day of the Girl. Seems like something I should have known already.
“Who is calling, please?”
It is just understood… around our house, the laundry chore is MINE.
Russellings of the Spirit 