Forty-five years ago.
Sunday marked 45 years since August 11, 1974, when the man I call Husband asked me to marry him.
We’ve always remembered August 11th as a special, private date and talked about how our lives were changed after that day. We were married the following April, so young and so in love, and terribly oblivious to what Marriage would look like and how to share a life together and how personal that sharing would be. We might have been cautioned of our ages and the realities of relationships and marriage, but it would not have mattered. Love does that to you. Young love cancels common sense.
Looking back from Forty-five, it’s easy to think of saying or doing differently. Hindsight always has perfect vision. Mistakes? Yes, there are many and a few I would like a re-do on, but the mistakes have come with their own lessons. Even if I had the power to change things now, would I? Every bump in the road of life that has bruised us or taught us something has been worth its pain in the teaching of it.
Remembering Forty-five is a gift. We have a history and the shared life and memories are more than I could have imagined in 1974. Home, children, grandchildren, travels, jobs, ministry: all are a blending of we two, him and me. That is the mixture of our one life. Of us.
August 11, 2019, my answer is still: Yes.
Song of Solomon 1:2
Kiss me and kiss me again, for your love is sweeter than wine.
Happy 45 sweetie. We are on our way to the second 45. I love you!