Love at Every Sight

I fell in love with Jeannie the first time I saw her. We met on Derby Day in 1979. I can tell you what she was wearing that day. I ran into a friend of mine from seminary at the movies and standing beside him was a gorgeous blonde. “This is my sister, Jeannie,” he said. From that moment on, the whole point of my life was to find a way to get – and keep – Jeannie’s attention. So far, I’ve done pretty well. This Sunday, June 14, we’ll celebrate our 46th wedding anniversary.

We’ll go to one of our favorite restaurants and toast our lives together. I’ll look at her across the table and I’ll fall in love with her all over again. Honestly, I’ve never stopped falling in love with her. I fell in love with her this morning. I’ll fall in love again when I see her this afternoon. I fell in love with her the first time I saw her and I’ve never stopped.

When people find out we’ve been married 46 years, everyone remarks that 46 years is a long time. I tell them, no, it’s really not. Our lives have flown by. Sometimes, we were living our lives so fast, we didn’t realize we were living our lives at all. Whatever we were doing, there was somebody or something that was waiting on us in the next moment. When you’re changing one baby, the other baby is waiting for his turn. Life never slowed down. Kindergarten ran into the school years and the school years ran into college. When I wasn’t driving the boys to a ball game, I was trying to write a sermon for Sunday morning.

Before either of us had time to fully realize the passage of the years, we blew by our twentieth anniversary. Then, we ran through 25, 30, 40 and now, we’re running through the tape on year 46. Time never seems to slow down.

And that bothers me. Frankly, at 69 I’m at the age when if something happens, no one would be surprised. If I fell over dead today, some might be sad, but no one would be shocked. That means I’m close to the day when I’ll have to give Jeannie back to the God who gave her to me. When I do, I want to be able to say, “This is who you gave me. Look at her now.”

Several years ago, in the middle of an intense prayer retreat, I was reminded by the Spirit that Jeannie was God’s good gift to me and he had entrusted her to me. I was called to become a partner with Christ to make sure Jeannie fulfilled the dreams Christ had for her when He created her. I’ve committed to becoming an expert in Jeannie. I want Jesus to be proud of our work.

Sometimes, when people see your hair has turned gray, they assume you have some kind of wisdom. I remind people that wisdom means I screwed up before you did. When they ask about marriage advice, here’s the one thing I tell them.

We’ve all heard that marriage is 50/50. That’s baloney. Marriage is 100/100. Both spouses have to be totally committed to the relationship. If either partner even suspects the other isn’t all in, the relationship begins to crack.

Now, here’s the little secret I’ll let you in on. Everyday, you have to come up with 200%. That means there are some days when one spouse can only give 50%. When that happens, the other spouse will have to give 150%. For instance, when the boys were born Jeannie was a great mom, but she was a lousy wife. The boys were sleeping a few hours at a time and when they were awake, they had to be fed, bathed, rocked, and changed. Our sons demanded everything from her. There wasn’t anything left over for me. I knew she still loved me, but she simply had no time or energy left over for me. I had to carry the marriage. That’s OK. It was my turn.

When my mom was dying with Alzheimer’s, I wasn’t a very good husband. I was doing my best to be a good son and take care of my mother, and honestly, it took everything out of me. I was frustrated, angry, grieving and sometimes just lost. When I wasn’t with my mom, I was worried if I was doing everything I could for her. I was constantly dealing with phone calls from her doctors, insurance and care center. Honestly, by the time I got home in the evening, there wasn’t anything left for Jeannie. She carried our marriage. It was her turn.

This Sunday night, we’ll spend some time remembering when she was there for me and I was there for her. We’ll commit to be there for each other for the rest of our lives. We’ll begin the journey to 47.

Yes, I know. Someday our time will come to an end. Nothing lasts forever, but until then, I’ll keep falling in love with her every time I see her. I’m sure heaven is wonderful, but honestly, I’m in no hurry.

This essay was first posted in Scot McKnight’s newsletter.