50 Years

 

 

It’s been 50 years since this couple said I do.
They are celebrating today,  in heaven.
Together.

We miss them.
My brothers and I.
My sisters in law too.
Their friends.

Both gone too soon.

Today.
I choose to remember.
The good.
It could be bad.
And it was definitely bad at times.

Somehow.
It always turned around.
Wrongs; forgiven.
Or forgotten.
Tempers that would flare; pacified.
A deep sense of commitment  that transcended emotions or feelings.

The commitment that walked through cancer and the memory thief.
A love that digs deep and presses on.

It wasn’t perfect.
But it was real.
A life created by these two; shaping who we have become today.
Deep traditions.
Love of family.

Faith.

Strength showed to me to endure the loss of a son and cancer.

I pray that if your marriage is falling apart that you will hold on.
Step out of your own desires.
Counter the culture belief that you need to be happy.
Because it’s not about you.
Watching my mom walk with cancer and my dad serve her, opened my eyes to a selfless love.
To serve.
We love not be loved in return.

We love, to model Christs love for all.
A love that was nailed to a cross because.
Just because; He loved.

Marriages are falling apart at alarming rates.
Commitment.
Shattered.
Let’s turn this around
Restore what was broken.
Life can be hard.
We are bombarded with so much.
Conflicts.
Bombings.
Unpredictable Stock Market.
Fluctuating Milk Prices.
So much.

Yet One thing remains.
A love so deep it changes you.
Reach for that love.

Let God know your struggles.
Let Him carry your burden.

I’m glad my childhood wasn’t perfect.
I am grateful I watched my parents wrestle with finances and life.
I am grateful they persevered.

 Happy 50th Mom and Dad.
Thank you for all you showed us.

There can be no better celebration than what you will experience today. 

Memory, Hither Come
by William Blake
Memory, hither come,
And tune your merry notes;
And, while upon the wind
Your music floats,

I’ll pore upon the stream
Where sighing lovers dream,
And fish for fancies as they pass
Within the watery glass.

I’ll drink of the clear stream,
And hear the linnet’s song;
And there I’ll lie and dream
The day along:

And, when night comes, I’ll go
To places fit for woe,
Walking along the darken’d valley
With silent Melancholy.