Dear Daughters,
Today Dad and I celebrate our 39th anniversary. Married in the year of our nation’s Bicentennial, we look in awe at the path on which we have been led. The years have been beautifully landscaped by God, with tall grand mountains alongside yawning dark valleys. There have been roses as well as thorns, dry barren years turning into deep lush times of harvest.
And the two shall become one… (Genesis 2:24).
At humanity’s beginning God spoke those words. Six short words, so easy to say, so easy to write, not so easy to do. Often we assume that the sentence merely means a physical union of marriage, but it is so much more than that. How do two people, thinking that they love each other, really become one in emotion, in their spirituality, in their physical being?
It truly takes a lifetime of learning to trust, learning to love someone who has many flaws, sins, and shortcomings – just like you and I. The wisdom and courage to forgive, learning to give God the things that are His, like your expectations of what you want your marriage to be like. He is the wise, artistic genius who created us and invented marriage, so we can certainly trust Him to enter into our marriages. We can have the confidence that He will lead and guide us, changing and transforming our characters so we can have the marriage that both He and we desire.
Dad and I have been in Idaho now for nearly six months and have missed you terribly. After enjoying our time with all of you and your families last week, I know that all these 39 years have been worth the effort, worth all the blood, sweat, and tears. Of course I knew it before we left, but the sweetness of being together again solidified the gratitude I have for our family.
In the past there have been times when I wanted to check out of marriage and mothering when things got hard. I’m sure all of you have been tempted to run away as well. But I have found that when times get hard, the best thing to do is to burrow deeper into God’s vast ocean of love and mercy. As I look back, I see that my disappointments in marriage have driven me to a deeper intimacy with God.
As we were on the way back from Chicago we saw the most beautiful sunset from above the clouds. We were just flying out of a storm. The sun was fiery orange-red with banks of billowing clouds almost totally surrounding it – you know those clouds that nearly look like grayish-white bubbles sitting on top of each other? And there was the sun peeking through, creating a gorgeous end to the day. Even the flight attendants were exclaiming about the incredible beauty.
As I thought about relationships, and marriage in particular, it seems that oftentimes the greatest splendor comes after a storm – after a fight, misunderstanding, or any other kind of relational mishap. When there are apologies given and forgiveness accepted there is beauty, restoration and peace, but most of all hope. Hope that God can bring beauty from ashes, gladness instead of mourning, and gratitude instead of despair.
You remember the wizened, aged woman who came in and chided us the night we were all at the pool in Chicago? I’ve been thinking about her lately. When she first came in the pool area she beckoned me with her gnarled finger and as I walked over to her she started scolding. She was disgusted with all the water that had been splashed around the pool, the mess of towels hanging on chairs, incensed that there was so much laugher and commotion going on, angry that there were children having fun in the pool – and all this at the young hour of 7:00 p.m.
The reason?
I wonder if it was because she didn’t have a family, had no joy, no celebrating a new birth, no pleasure in seeing little children squeal in delight when they watch their uncle do funny flips into the water. She had come at her appointed time – for 36 years she said – and expected to find a lonely, solitary pool waiting for her to swim and enjoy peace, alone.
I’ve been praying for that woman, praying that she might find some bit of pleasure in younger people, praying that she might learn to rejoice with those who rejoice. That she might learn to smile instead of frown, to laugh instead of squelching joy. One is the loneliest number and I pity those who decline to become a part of a family because it’s just too hard or simply inconvenient. Or perhaps simply given up because of the hurt that sometimes comes from family.
Yes, family is messy, unpredictable, chaotic, sometimes driving us crazy, and yet during other times leaning hard on each other. I thank God for all of you, our daughters, for encouraging Dad and me to persevere and for the joy that comes from being your parents.
Each one of you is going through God’s refining fire in your own lives. You all have your own stories of pain and joy, and I am proud that you are open to His work in your lives, even though it is not easy or what you would ever have chosen for yourselves. I pray that you will learn to thank God more and more for the man that He has entrusted you with. I know there are some days that you may feel like you have made a mistake in marrying your husband, but the best husband for you is the one you have right now.
You really have no idea what depths of companionship are available until you venture into those waters, and hang in there for many years. Besides, your own transformation is barely underway. Who knows all that God has in store for the both of you? ~ John Eldredge in Love and War
I would venture to say that at 39 years we are barely beginning to understand.
Love, Mom
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