All good stories start out, it was a dark and rainy day, right? Well, December 28, 1962 was snowy, sleety, foggy, drizzly, and dastardly cold. We wanted a Christmas week wedding, and we got what comes along with that desire in Massapequa, New York. To make things worse, our honeymoon in the Pocono Mountains saw outdoor restrictions because the wind chill was well below zero, so many of the planned activities were canceled. We did, however, make candles. Whoopie!
Ev had a cold, so when we said our vows of sickness and health, we chuckled a little, and so did our families. Of course, by the end of the week, I was sick too. The irony is, today, on our 45th anniversary, we’ve just exchanged our newest gift, a disgusting tummy bug, the likes of which we have never had in our home. The kids can only remember one time in early elementary school when they caught the creepin’ crud, but Ev and I, thankfully, have not had it our entire marriage. So, here we are, walking wounded taking care of each other, just as it’s meant to be.
We promised to honor and obey, to love and to cherish whether richer or poorer (we’ve known both), for better or worse (ditto), in sickness and in health (today included), and the last part we await the Lord’s chosen moments, ’til death do us part.
In Bless You Bouquets, I put it this way: “
Our December wedding included white poinsettias for both mothers, the decorations the church had already hung for the holidays, and white muffs for the bridesmaids with cascading red carnations and ivy.
We were on a tight budget, so my bouquet of holly and a center white orchid dismantled so I could later wear the orchid as part of my going-away outfit.
I had moved to the home we rented a few months before the wedding so I could get things organized and supervise the purchasing of basic furniture pieces we would have as part of our first home.
In front of our little Cape Cod house, the first year we were married, were beautiful rhododendron bushes which symbolized to me one of God’s most beautiful creations. It’s the only place where I’ve ever lived where they flourished, and like new love, they remain a memory of freshness, brilliance, fullness, balance, and life at its best.
My husband is my life’s garden gate. While the Lord is my fortress and high tower, in Ev I found my protector, my strength, my shield, my guardian, my entrance to all that lays ahead, my place of refuge. He is the leader of our home, but my gentle partner. He is wise, loyal, steadfast, strong, dependable, and sustaining. But more than all of these, he has opened new doors and vistas I rejoice in daily. Through his complementing me in the best sense, he introduced me to his hobbies—classical music, model railroading, building and construction, to the practical things I’d never even imagined.
He expanded my vision to include new communities, new garden gates to open. Through his engineering and teaching careers, we’ve moved nine times. We’ve often noticed, every time I’ve finally turned a house into a home, decorated just the way I wanted it, we’ve moved. It’s become a joke: I’ve said: “I’ll follow you anywhere in the world…just not Alaska.” But, seriously, in each move we’ve found enrichment and excitement and fulfillment and joy. And in my gardens, he’s the digger, the pruner, the planner, the water-garden builder, the “clean up the messes guy” and the great plant-shopper and researcher to make sure what we plant will thrive. In other words, where I’m the kaleidoscopic envisioner, he’s the practical side my personality needs. We make a great team.
His Bless You Bouquet includes all that is beautiful and long-lasting. He brings me roses; I give him roses. He showers me with beauty; I bring him irises, tulips, baby’s breath, beautiful gladiolus, shining eucalyptus, lilies of every variety, and just for fun, showers of forget-me-nots. The fragrance is intoxicating, but no allergies react; their beauty is everlasting and never fades. The colors are brilliant and remain so. The stems are strong, yet flexible. The effect is beauty personified.”
And to my husband of 45 years, I add to the other bouquets previously mentioned in our “love” chapter. I return to him the hundreds of roses he’s presented to me over the years, blooms from every flowerbed and shrub and flowering tree he’s planted for me, wide arboretum paths he’s traveled with me, fields of unfurling ferns and brook walks we loved in Claverack, trips to exotic landscapes and McKee Gardens and Epcot we’ve toured, tall trees representing his loyalty and faithfulness to me and our family, church, friends, and causes, and buckets full of daisies just for fun. For his generosity to others, often behind the scenes and completely anonymous, I praise him. For his wise leadership as a deacon and elder in several churches, for his complete devotion to our children in thinking about their needs and wise counsel, and for his enduring strength, tenacity, and stick-to-itiveness, I record this admiration. For his research and devotion to teaching, our covenant group thanks him, and for his untiring efforts in representing Jesus Christ to others, I present him bouquets which are not merely temporal, but eternal. And for letting me create, to spend time on pursuits I’ve postponed for so long, everlasting thanks for indulging my passion during this season of our life together. You’ve always been supportive, and I am eternally grateful.”
And so, to my dear husband, resting after a night’s duel with the tummy bug, happy anniversary and utmost love, respect, honor and thanksgiving for you.
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