Thursday, February 14, 2008
I Know How The River Feels
This week for our youth group activity, we took the young women and visited some of the widows in our ward. We brought them some flowers and some homemade bread and valentine's day cards. And then we sang them a few kooky Valentine's Day songs, and ended with a pretty song about love.
We chatted with the ladies for a few minutes and even though it was fun, it made me a little bit sad. They just miss their husbands so much.
Over the last 24 years, my marriage has had it's ups and downs - like every marriage does. It continues to amaze me that any two people can really be compatible for that long a time. And you know what? Sometimes we aren't . When things aren't going all that well, what has kept us together is pure stubbornness on one or both of our parts. We just refuse to give up on it, or on the covenant we made with God when we got married, that through Him, we would stay married forever.
I have to learn and relearn, that when things aren't going the way I want them too, and I start thinking it's The Brain's fault, that's usually about the time for me to take a look at my own contribution. How long has it been since I made his favorite dinner? Or put on some lipstick because I knew he was on the way home? Or actually had clean socks in his drawer?
And once I start doing my part again, magically, like theater curtains opening up, I start to see that everything is still there, and when I actually, you know, make a contribution to the relationship, I get 100 times more out of it than I put in.
I've always known that I will be a widow someday. (Which is a pretty safe prediction to make, because I'll either be right or, well, dead...) And when the young women come to my house on Valentines day, I'm sure I'll be missing The Brain more than anything. But I have the comfort of knowing that what we had wasn't perfect, but it was incredible, and it will continue through eternity.
And when we see each other again, his eyes will light up like they do every time he sees me, and once again, I'll remember how the river feels.