Today is my 40th wedding anniversary. (Not sure how that can be since I’m only 35, but it’s true.) And oh how quickly those four decades have flown! It seems like just yesterday I was that wide-eyed nineteen-year-old heading down the aisle on my father’s arm, wearing a dress my mom sewed—like she did all my clothes. At the end of that aisle was the man I loved more than life itself. I’m not sure Daddy would have let me go so easily if he’d known that man would haul me off to New York only four months later.
When you’re a Kansas farm girl, New York is like a foreign country. But the two years we lived there were some of the best times of our life together. We had each other and the Lord. Not two dimes to rub together, and no mamas nearby to run home to. We had to figure it out for ourselves. And we did.
Oh, if we could have seen glimpses of the joys to come. But then, we would have also seen glimpses of the hard times. Ken always jokes that we’ve been happily married for thirty-fill-in-the-blank however long we’ve been married minus two years. It’s not that we had a bad run there, but we figure the bad days—or weeks—probably add up to somewhere close to two years in total. And they’re mostly forgotten now. We’re in a good time these days. A time when God has taught us that the little stuff doesn’t matter…and it’s all little stuff.
Forty years seems like for-ev-er. But we have a history, a wonderful legacy of long (really long) happy marriages. Between both of our parents and four sets of grandparents, the anniversaries add up to well over 300 years! That’s a lot of till-death-do-us-part. We want to be counted in that amazing legacy. And we figure if we’re stuck with each other for almost 82 years the way Ken’s grandparents were, we might as well enjoy it! Shoot, if we match their record, we’re not even halfway there yet!
Happy anniversary, babe! Here’s to the next 40!
And the best part? What happens forty years after two people fall in love. . .