On Thursday, September 7th, my husband and I will celebrate the tenth anniversary of our marriage. In anticipation, I am re-running a three-part series I wrote last year. Yesterday, I focused on the rehearsal. Today, the wedding. Tomorrow, the honeymoon. Thursday, the day we’ve been husband and wife for ten years, I’ll post something new.
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“Guess what today is!” I asked the kids this morning as they waited for waffles.
“A holiday! No school!” Ryley wrongly, but enthusiatically, guessed.
“It’s our anniversary!”
This news was greeted with yawns and demands the toaster step up its toasting because everyone is starving and may we have juice, too? It means nothing to them in their naive youth.
There is no Anniversary Squirrel who leaves gifts for the children of the celebrating couple. They would be disappointed anyway, since tradition dictates the ninth anniversary as Pottery. Here, Sam, a Thomas the Tank Engine soup urn.
It means nothing to them, yet it means everything.
Hubby and I have a lot in common, including growing up in families with the original married parents. My parents will celebrate their 37th anniversary next month, hubby’s parents will celebrate their 37th in January. We saw the good times and the not-so-good. We witnessed the mortifying spectacle of our parents kissing and hugging, dancing around kitchens, and laughing. We saw them deal with the deaths of parents, family moves, family changes, empty nests, and retirement. Together. It means everything, even as adults, to see them persist on and on.
It is inspiring. I have a very deep and serious sense of responsibility to show our kids marriage is serious business, a commitment made unequaled and unmatched, except for their commitment to God. It is also a best-friendship, a source of support, the soft place to land, and the launching pad.
Marriages die. I know that. Some of the dearest people to me are divorced or from families of divorce. My mother once told me, when I asked her about divorce, that it was never a word in their vocabulary.
When two people wed, saying their vows to be persistent, forgiving, patient, and loving through everything life launches their way, the future is listening and keeping everything crossed. I knew we wanted children. I thought about them as I said my vows to God. I thought about a lot of things to the point I don’t remember much of the ceremony:
The trivial: is my hair holding up under my veil? The profound: this is a model of Christ’s love for the Church. The silly: that soccer ball groom’s cake is going to turn everyone’s lips black.
Yes, it did. Yes, it is. Yes, Grandma looked like a Goth chick.
Tomorrow: The honeymoon
I love the way the men are looking at you in that photo. Beautiful Mopsy.
“Grandma looked like a Goth chic.”
Too funny!
Congratulations – we are at 11, but do not share the same history. My husband comes from a broken family; I was blessed with parents in their 36th year of marriage.
I do feel a great responsibility to our children – as you do – to instill the ‘forever’ of marriage.
I once heard that Billy Graham’s wife Ruth was asked if she’d ever considered divorce. She answered, “Divorce? No. Murder? Yes.”
Happy Anniversary!!May only your grandmA be goth and not your kiddos:)
Happy Anniversary! What a lovely post!
Happy Anniversary! I am so glad you are rerunning this series.
We, too, are blessed with parents that have been together for many, many years. My folks will celebrate their 44th anniversary next week; Mike’s parents have been married for 30 years, I think.
It is such a blessing to have committed role models to look up to.