When I asked Tom, "Are you where you thought you would be after thirty years?" he admitted he thought he would be in a different place, both physically and vocationally. He thought we would be living on a farm in Wisconsin, growing other people's children in a foster group home. "Really?" I replied, "I never knew that was your dream!" I'm not sure if he never told meor if I just never listened. Probably the latter. Then he returned the question to me. I of course had already thought about it, had been thinking about it and journaled it out! After all, it was my question. I had always pictured myself living in a lovely home, beautiful children, and grandchildren to adore. Those dreams have come true. Did I expect them to happen in Alaska? No. The thing that I never dreamed was an ordination and call to ministry. I certainly had expected a music ministry as a lay person. Choirs and worship teams were always important to me, but I never dreamed I'd have a longing to teach, preach and speak let alone a calling to do so.
As Tom and I talked, we both agreed we didn't expect marriage to be so difficult. The joining of two totally different opinions of how socks and towels should be folded, what color cars to purchase, with who's family we should celebrate Christmas, and the definition of affection, proves to be challenges we still deal with. For example: he considers me weeding flowers while he mows the lawn a date. I on the other hand expect dinner and movie, I consider a day of reading journaling and blogging (much like day today) a day well spent. He is all about cleaning the garage, building a planter and brushing the dog to make his day off complete. He does not understand the draw of Facebook and I cannot get the hang of banking on line. A lingering kiss and hug for me sets my day and for him, a quick smooch and a patting my backside means he's still interested. After thirty years you'd think we'd have met somewhere in the middle. But, alas we are still at opposite ends on many things.
The really important things we have managed to agree upon. We both felt Christian Education and an active church life to be priority for our children, pets are a must, family comes first right after God, and pizza on Friday nights is a bonding experience (thus the extra pounds, I'm afraid). We both feel birthdays and anniversaries are meant to be celebrated, and the bedroom is sacred. Individual "quiet time" for our own personal relationship with God has developed on it's own and we rarely infringe on each other during these morning sessions of quiet meditation. These are a few of the foundations that have held our relationship together through the tough times.
Speaking of tough times, there have been a few. I remember sitting in a counselor's office, Tom on one end of the couch me on the other and the counselor saying, "Really, I see no hope for this marriage. It would be better if you two just went your own ways." Well, we stuck it out. Are all our issues resolved? No, and they never will be because we are human. We have come to the conclusion that I will always remain a mystery to Tom, and he will always frustrate me with his down to business, cut the frills personality. We have learned to cope and even flourish at times, thanks to Dr. Dobson, the wisdom of children and the book of James.
As I looked through the cards at the grocery store, I chose one for Tom that had a drawing of a man's and woman's underwear on a clothes line with the words, "I'll be brief." The inside just read, "Happy Anniversary, darling." I penned the words, "These last 30 years have gone by so fast, let's take the next a little slower, please!" What does that mean? I'm not sure. To begin with: a quiet celebration walking the harbor of Cordova, being served gummy ice cream by an Irish archaeologist in a quiet burger joint, exchanging new wedding rings while we eat strawberry cheese cake in our jeans, and going to bed at nine. How romantic is that? In my book, very!
The question now is, "Where do I see myself in thirty years?" I hope to be a sweet little old lady ready with a tart come back now and then, a grandma who can spoil a teenager and yet be respected by the most rebellious waif, and the light in my husband's eye who still gives me a quick smooch and a pat on the bottom to show he's still interested.
Happy anniversary to my patient and sometimes astounded husband.
