Reflections on 18 years of Marriage

Today is my 18th wedding anniversary with DH. Actually, almost exactly 18 years ago to this minute, my Papaw pronounced us husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs.

I can remember almost every detail of that day. Waking up early & making pancakes. Got my hair done, and it started falling out almost immediately. The frame for the bridal protrait display not working, so I had to run to Michael's with my cousin Chris. We had Arby's for lunch. Get to the church. Take pictures. Flower girl was upset because she didn't have a necklace like the big girls (love you, SB). Wedding planner was rude to some of my friends. My cousin Ralph came in just before I went down the aisle ...

It was a simple wedding, with old-fashioned ceremony & vows. At the end, Papaw said, "You may now embrace," instead of kiss. DH didn't know what he was supposed to do.

So 18 years. Not quite 20. No where close to the 60+ my grandparents shared before Papaw's passing. There's nothing significant about the 18th Anniversary, except that there is. We've beat the averages, the statistics. We have, as cliche as it is, only grown closer; love each other more deeply.

When we had been married a little less than a year, our Sunday School teacher asked if we loved our spouses unconditionally. Being a realist (and maybe a bit of a cynic). I said, "No. It wasn't possible," much to everyone's shock. I believed that there were conditions that would actually eliminate the love I felt for DH, and, therefore, "unconditional love" was not possible. 17 years later, I'm still not sure about "unconditional" but I know I'm getting closer every day.

These 18 years have not all been easy. There are New Year's when we are relieved that the old year has passed. Our first year of marriage might have been the worst. Two oldest children do not learn the art of compromise easily.

In 18 years of marriage, we have lost 2 babies, a father, a grandfather, three grandmothers, and a great-grandfather, not to mention many other friends & loved ones (and 2 cats & a dog).

We've moved 6 times. We've had 6 pets. We've gone through 15+ rounds of fertility treatments. Had an adoption fall through 6 weeks before the girl's due date. DH has had 5 jobs. I've had more jobs than I can remember. We've had 10 cars between us. We have attended, with some regularity, 5 churches.

We have argued about the same three major things at least 36 times each. We have gone to bed angry because sometimes you really do just need some sleep.

We have laughed more days than we haven't.

We have been blessed, in God's time, with three of the most amazing kids. Kids of whom we know the true value because they did not come to us easily. Kids that were gifts. Kids that keep us young and remind us that we're old. Kids for whom we know God has amazing plans.

So, after 18 years, what is there to say? I love my husband with all my heart. I thank God that he sent me to Shawnee, USA, to find the man I would call friend, partner, leader, honey, and love of my life. The man with whom I would ride this crazy rollercoaster of life.

I LOVE YOU, TIM!

Every Now & Then ...

P1 started 3rd grade this year ... at a new school. It's a great school. I think I have had daily emails from the school, the PTO &/or his teacher, starting the week before school began. That is more communication than I received from our previous school in a whole year.

As the school year approached, I had several friends stressing about their kids (their first borns) starting Kindergarten. I smiled knowingly. "Yes, yes," I thought, "you'll survive and one day be relieved when the first day of school rolls around each year." Such carrying on - the tears, the worry, the tears. You have to let your children go. From the moment they are born, you are letting them go a little at a time.

And so, P1 walked to school the first day with his dad, taking his bike so he could ride home. How great not to fight the carpool line each morning & afternoon! How wonderful to not have to wake Sweet P up from nap when it's time for the end of the school day! P1's good. I'm good.

Then the second day ... he got on his bike, helmet on, backpack on. And I watched him ride away. I watched him until he turned the corner. And then ... well ... it hit me. A wave of panic, worry, fear. And yes, even a tear rolled down my cheek. How do I know he got to school? Did I check the Registered Sex Offender list for the neighborhood yet? Would it ever occur to him to skip school? How quickly would the school call if he wasn't there (it was late afternoon at our old school)? ARGH!

And I hear a little whisper, "Suzanne, you have to let your children go. A little at a time. This is just another one of those moments." Oh, yeah.

And because God has a terrific sense of timing, I'm co-leading a moms' Bible study starting in a couple of weeks, on Stormie O'Martian's Power of a Praying Parent. All about handing your children over to God.

Yep. Every now & then, God has to shout a little before I can hear His gentle whispers.