Remembering our wedding day 25 years later--a day of ominous miscommunications and missteps. A suburban "Yankee" from Buffalo, NY with three sisters marrying what his father introduced to me as "a red-blooded American boy" from rural North Carolina with two brothers. Two distinct cultures and families coming together with little idea of the depth of those differences. My father offered to "chauffeur" us from the church to the reception and Briggs jumped in the front seat, leaving me alone in the back. 😄 When we got home that evening, I burst into tears, an emotional decompression that completely bewildered both of us. Certainly, we did most everything the hard way. It's been an uphill climb into a greater awareness of what love is and isn't. Some love, like the love for children, comes instantly and effortlessly, but other loves take time and pressure to forge. Even though we didn't marry especially young (25 and 28), we indeed "grew up together." I count every obstacle our strength now, and I am a better person for his sharpening---iron sharpens iron indeed. Twenty five years in---no offense to Briggs--but all glory to God for the shaping, refining, and growth. I am so thankful that the Lord had better plans for us than we had for ourselves. The verses I picked for our ceremony have held up:
Two are better than one,
because they have a good return for their labor:
If either of them falls down,
one can help the other up.
But pity anyone who falls
and has no one to help them up.
Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.
But how can one keep warm alone?
Though one may be overpowered,
two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.
Ecclesiastes 4:9-12
