I asked my wife a question not long ago, then held my breath.
“Do you remember our wedding vows?” I wondered.
The query wasn’t made facetiously.
Me? I don’t remember the vows — not word for word, anyway — we said to each other going on 34 years ago. So when Lee Ann said she didn’t remember them either, I breathed a bit of a sigh of relief.
Let me explain.
When we started planning our wedding, we decided to write our own vows for the ceremony. It wasn’t whimsy or capriciousness; we simply wanted to make the day our own. We worked on those vows for weeks, diving into the process with all the seriousness the occasion deserved. I vividly remember the beginning — “Lee Ann, I love you,” because it starts with love, right? — and the ending, which was two verses from Proverbs 24: “By wisdom a house is built, and by understanding it is established; and by knowledge the rooms are filled with all precious and pleasant riches.”
And of course I remember the sentiment, which was: commitment and devotion.
But the words in between?
They’re lost in the fog of memory for me, though not fully forgotten.
And to me, it doesn’t matter that my wife can’t recall the specific words of the vows. She lives them all day, every day, without fail.
I found myself reflecting on this the last few weeks as she’s made three trips to Florida and another to Texas to step into the breach to serve two of our children in a time of dire need (assisting one, and his wife, after the premature birth of our grandson, whilst also helping our daughter with a cross-country move). And all this while not missing a beat at home — and continuing to do her usual stellar job of being “Mimi” to our granddaughter, who spends parts of a few days a week with us.
This has given me a chance, too, to practice my serve to her as her work and stress load intensified.
The words “labor of love” were joyously created for times like these, and I’ve never seen a more willing laborer than the mother of our children.
Our wedding vows didn’t include the phrase “for better or for worse.” We knew that would come with the package. And I recognize this spate of events, in the scheme of things, doesn’t fall within a mile of qualifying as a “for worse” season in our lives. For a couple who has spent more than three and a half decades together, it’s just another blip, another thing, another of life’s hiccups that, if nothing else, gives us opportunities: first, to lean on each other; second, to be there for our children; and third, for me, as her husband, to lean hard into the purpose of those few sentences we memorized (and, I might add, recited flawlessly) back on June 30, 1990.
In a box somewhere in our craft room upstairs, there’s a VHS tape of our wedding ceremony. We haven’t watched it since showing it to our children when they were young. I’m pretty sure we don’t even own a VHS player now, but as the seasons have passed we’ve spoken often of how much we vividly recall — vows notwithstanding — about that incredible day. The nearly 12,300 days since haven’t been flawless, but they’ve been beautiful.
Some (particularly recently) of those days have been mighty long, but put together each is a unique part of the foundation that’s allowed us to build a life together. Rarely is one that passes and doesn’t include me stopping at some point along the way to marvel at how Lee Ann personifies those vows. She recites them daily with what she does.
We don’t remember the exact words, but that’s not the point. The blessing after all this time is the privilege to give life to them with our hands and feet — and our hearts — just one more day.
