A Catholic, a Protestant, a Salvation Army minister, and a priest walked into an Episcopal Church…with 35 guests in tow…
This actually isn’t the beginning of a joke…or maybe it is ;) A good joke with a happy punchline.
Thirty years ago, in a little tiny church, the beginning of something special started. Or at least I think it’s pretty special. That day, I got to marry my best friend. Yes, it wasn’t your typical wedding, but it’s been the best adventure in commitment and God’s grace that could be had.
It all makes perfect sense…
When I need reminding of God’s goodness and kindness towards me, meeting Peter is one of my stones of Gilgal. Because of the circumstances in which I found myself, I was asking God to intervene…even if it was through difficult events. Instead of allowing pain in my life, He brought me this man who would be “my green pastures”. That person who would be the place where I could rest and heal… That person who was like coming home just in his being there.
One of my boys asked me the other day what Pete and my most memorable date was… We both looked at each other and knew immediately. It was when we were watching an outdoor play on a grassy hillside. After the intermission, we settled in to watch the last half of The Music Man, and my hand found his. That small gesture was massive. I knew, that I knew, that I knew…I was home.
Two very different people…one extrovert Catholic Marine met a Protestant introvert school teacher, and the rest is history. Throw in the fact that our friend was a Salvation Army Minister, and I was in love with this little tiny church with a bright red door that only seated 36 people, and we had the makings of a religious mashup for our wedding. That little church with the stained glass windows, that bell that chimed as my brother pulled the rope as we were pronounced husband and wife, to the Roll Royce parked out front that took us to our reception…that’s where our story begins. Or maybe, that’s where the official writing of ‘our story’ begins.
I look back on that day with such joy. And in fact, we took out the VHS tape to show the boys our wedding when they were little. As the boys are watching away, I look over at Peter and we both have tears in our eyes. Yes, that was a most wonderful day! And the story that God helped us start writing has continued on to this day because of His marvelous grace.
We agreed to follow the Lord together…each willing to find a church together. We raised our boys with God as the center, just as Peter prayed each day that the Lord would protect and bless our marriage. Yes, God answers prayer…whether we see it or not at the moment.
On year six, our first son was born, and he was perfect…as you might have guessed.. On year eight, our second son was born. Another perfect human was now on the planet! (Shocker, I’m sure.) On year ten, I finally got a ‘non cancerous’ clear phone call from my doctor after a difficult surgery. These were some of the sprinkling of major events along our journey. Those daily walks ‘around the block’ to talk about our day, Family Bed-party Nights with pizza bites, nerf gun wars, and camp outs filled in the cracks of our daily lives. This walking out life together was beautiful…except for that perpetual pile of laundry that was always waiting. Which was my reminder that I had a beautiful family getting all those clothes dirty. That’s a win…
Then, at year 26…through a giant, mishap with a tractor, Peter was airlifted to Sacred Heart with a broken pelvis, broken hip, five broken ribs and deep bruising to his lungs and torso… The boys and I drove to Spokane to be with him during surgery and recovery, with the gift of bringing him home in a wheelchair after just three days. There were so many reasons why we should have lost Peter that day, but God intervened again. On our behalf, he held back a very likely disaster.
Roll forward exactly one year later from that catastrophic event to the 27th year… As I’m sure you know, Peter was very, very sick. I had to drop him off at the hospital and was given a scripture to hold on to during the 16 horrid days of not getting to see him. Psalm 118:17…”He will not die but live, to tell what the Lord has done.” That scripture tells of an answered heart’s cry, right after a near death experience. I liked the answer to my prayer part, but I didn’t like the walking out of the ‘near death experience’. Oh well… Life doesn’t pick the easy route. In fact, faith is usually built on the hard, rocky soil. And there we found ourselves.
After 16 long and harrowing days, I finally got in to see Peter. You guessed it…as soon as I got to his hospital bed, my hand found his. I was home. Didn’t matter that we were in the ICU. Didn’t matter that I was wearing a gown. Didn’t matter that I was sitting in an uncomfortable chair next to his bed. I was home. And each day that I got to spend with him in that dark, lifeless room, I would sit with my hand in his and rest ‘at home’.
Yes, God saw fit to bring us through the good, the bad, and the ugly. Because of who He is…not who we are. I don’t know why He blessed us so. But I do know that not a day goes by that I don’t feel overwhelmed with thankfulness for this gift of life that He gave us.
When it comes to marriage…I care nothing for how Peter squeezes the toothpaste. How the toilet paper rolls off the dispenser doesn’t even register. The fact that the dirty socks are found in the hallway instead of the laundry basket. A fowled up grocery order from the store…I couldn’t care less. I’ve got Peter, and we’re at thirty years and counting.
And did I mention, that the church we got married in was actually featured on “America’s Most Haunted” TV show??? Well, that just goes to show, what God has joined, let no man, event, or catastrophe put asunder, right?
Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart! There will never be anyone for me, but you!
