Twenty Years Down the Road

To some, we may be the most boring people in the world, and that is due in part to our lifestyle of quiet contemplation.  Some may take marvelous trips to Europe or Hawaii or Disney World; we typically end up driving to a quaint tourist town nearby, or the Lake, or even having a quiet dinner at home.

We are not flashy people, nor are we given to extravagance.

Yet this is not to say that an Anniversary is an inconsequential event at our house. We reserve time to spend together, away from all other distractions.  We devote our focus to topics of mutual concern.  We enjoy the time we spend in one another's company. We remember why it is that we came together in the first place.

Each year at this time, I reflect on the reasons for my choice of wife.

To truly grasp the context of our courtship, one would need to first understand the situation in which I found myself so many years ago.  I was near a nervous collapse, so frayed and stretched by my pathetic attempts to save the world (or, at least, my little world of Seattle) that it felt like drowning in a sea of anxiety.  The church was my world; the world was my job; and my struggle was with the downtrodden, unwashed masses of people whose unending lists of problems were stretching me beyond my ability to withstand.  I had friends, oh so many friends, but so many of them were my friends because they needed me for something, and I needed to be needed.  And they were draining me until I had nothing left to give.

Yes, there were other friends, friends who were not draining me; but, I regret to say, as they had no apparent need for me, other than my friendship, they received very little of my attention or time.  The feeling of being desparately needed can be quite an addicting drug, and I was hooked.

There was a fellowship of young men in the rental house with me.  Our stated goal was to be a light to the community; our reality was that we were still strangers struggling to put up with one another's faults and foibles.  We were not united in anything other than a desire for goodness.  We were defeated by our own inabilities to overcome ourselves.   And I thought myself the most mature of them!

I came back from my ten-year high school reunion in 1991 to a house that was falling apart - both literally and spiritually.  It was as though I had left the house in the charge of little children who fought and bickered with one another so long as the parent was absent. My limit was reached.  I dissolved the corporation.  We were a house no longer. And I found shelter elsewhere, far away, in a house with someone who (somehow) had the patience to put up with my brokenness.

In all this, Cheryl was my beacon of light, my link to sanity.  She alone of all my friends represented a world of normalcy, a world of peace, a world where it was possible to relax, be myself, just sit back and enjoy her company without worrying about anything.  And she inspired me with her love of literature, of romance, of beauty.  She also shared with me a joy in silliness, a desire for laughter, a marvelous wit.

And those sparkling brown eyes. Oh, I could just lose myself in their luster, their brilliance.

Every moment I spent with her was like a summer vacation.  She shared so much with me - her love of poetry, her sense of style, her taste in food and art and music.  She introduced me to a new and different world, and then took the time to explore it with me.  But there was never an overhanging sense of duty or urgency or guilt in the hours we spent doing things together; it was all pure joy.

Of a surety, we had our disagreements.  To my recollection, they were mostly due to my inability to commit to this wonderful relationship; after all, she really had no need of me, not in the way all my other friends needed me, and there was still that addiction down deep in my soul to fulfill those needs regardless of their reality.  Occasionally I would allow my desire to be needed by others out-prioritize my desire to be with her, and she would be disappointed and hurt.

But she went out of her way to try and understand, and to forgive.

I remember the day it happened (not the date, but the day).  Like a bolt of lightning on a clear day, the image of her face appeared before me, with the most beautiful smile in all the world.  And this image pushed out all the doubtful thoughts in my mind.  Suddenly I understood that I could decide to spend the rest of my days with her, and nothing else mattered.  And it was as though all the clouds suddenly lifted from my brain, and sunshine filled my soul.  And I couldn't wait to see her again.

And every day since then that we have spent together has been one more step in a long, glorious climb toward heaven, sharing the road together, bearing our burdens together, raising our family together, facing the obstacles together, knowing that we will stand by one another until we have reached that goal.  Together.

And that thought gives me a peace beyond understanding.

I wish that I could say that it has made me a perfect husband, but there are far too many failures on my part to substantiate that kind of claim.  She does more than complete me; she forgives me, she endures me, she allows for me.  She lets me be me, all the while gently asking me to be so much more.  And I love her beyond all words, beyond all explanation, beyond any conscious comprehension.  This love fills me up so much that I cannot remember what it is like anymore not to have it.  It has always been, has it not?

When I look into her eyes and see the love that is there, I see the love of God shining through; for where else could it possibly come from?

God bless her in this love, and bless our family that we may always show the love of God in everything that we do.  And may we see many anniversaries to come as our journey continues and our love deepens.