I was 19 and you were 23…babies and yet we thought we knew all about life, as we sat there eating pizza listening to an organ play its classic cartoon music while bubbles danced in the air. Is that restaurant still there? I didn’t eat much; I was so enamored by you, the college graduate who wore three piece suits to work. You were a 4.0 tennis player, enjoyed soccer and water skiing, but I could beat you down the ski hill. We went to a movie after dinner, The American Hero starring John Ritter, and we laughed together. Do you remember? You drove me home in your orange sports car gently kissing me goodnight on the front porch. I floated into the house, knowing I would marry you.
Now twenty-eight years later, we are going away for a weekend, our first time away… alone…for three years…three years in crisis mode. With twenty-five years of marriage together, we have walked through many fires: a premature first born, a major job change when you were forty, the demands of five children, and now childhood cancer. We smell of smoke, but we are not burned. We are breathing again. We are healing. We are different people. How could we have known back then the crisis’ we’d face? The difficulties and heartaches? Now we know more about life with shared pain and shared joy. We are secure in our commitment to each other. We are secure in our commitment to God…no matter where our journey takes us.
It will be a weekend for us to just BE. A time to be still. A time to focus on our relationship as man and wife, as individuals. A time to search out and understand each other’s needs. A time to reflect on the past, while looking towards the future. I am almost giddy with anticipation of our time away, yet nervous. Who are you now? Who am I now? I want to discover you again.
Our first date…