July 14, 2021

Today, Wednesday July 14, is our 49^th wedding anniversary. And they all said it wouldn’t last!

Seriously, they did say that. Every single one of them, especially our families.

And really, who could blame them? Because 49 years ago today, I was 1 week shy of my 18^th birthday, while David was a much older man of 19 years and 8 months. My mother had to sign her consent to the marriage, right there on the marriage licence! And she did, of course. I won’t say she was happy to have done so. The truth is that at the time of my wedding I was nearly four months pregnant with our first child.

Yet, she did sign her permission, and that was her decision. I got married in mauve, no white wedding dress for me. And that was her decision, too.

It was a decision that, at the time, didn’t surprise me. Not even a visit from our parish priest (we’re Anglican, aka Episcopalian), who told her that the old custom of a white wedding dress being for virgin brides only was passé and he was perfectly fine with my wearing a white wedding dress, even being pregnant.

My mother, however, once she made up her mind, never changed it. And if she ever discovered at a later date that what she’d thought was fact turned out not to be true? Well, she never apologized for any mistake she ever made.

So a mauve dress for me it was, a ghastly color on me that I have not worn since. Looking back, I recall being more than slightly miffed, and to be perfectly honest, my mother did tell me I could wear white if I really wanted to. She also said if that were the case, she would not attend the wedding. Of course, I cared more about my mother’s presence than I did about the color of my dress. So being perfectly honest, that was my choice, too.

Thinking back on that long ago tussle between us, at the age I am now just makes me sad for the opportunities we missed, because one of us was rather unyielding and that was the last thing the other of us needed at that time, or ever, really. I learn lessons well and can tell you with great pride that I have a much better relationship with my daughter than my mother had with me.

Sometimes, David and I are asked what the secret to a long-lasting marriage is. And our answers vary, depending on the year, the mood we’re in at the time, and even on the person who’s doing the asking.

I know that of several of the young couples that started out married life within a few years of our having married—our friends, in those days—none remained together. In one tragic case, one of my longest friends became a widow far too young. But the others? I don’t know why they parted ways. They had all been our close friends in the early 70s, but life saw to that not carrying forward into the 80s or 90s. Life, and the fact that we were all not quite fully mature factored into our not remaining close. As time carried on, we all grew up (well, I can think of a couple of people who really didn’t), and matured, and changed and not unexpectedly, we all grew apart.

David and I had plenty of “life” happen to us, as well. There are times when, looking back, I’m really not certain I can say how it was that we actually managed to stay together. Likely sheer stubbornness played a role, for the both of us.

Despite the fact that I’m currently writing my 67^th title, and that all the stories I have written have been in the genre of romance, the truth is that love isn’t a blooming flower that smells sweet forever. It’s not all sunshine and unicorns and hot, sexy nights. Not all goodness and light and soft music playing in the background. There is muck and mire to be trod through, and ordinary everyday living of life, day after day after day.

Those exciting, thrilling feelings you have in the beginning, when you first fall in love? Those don’t last forever, because if they did, it would mean that your love wasn’t growing with you. Like everything else that is alive, without growth your love would stagnate and eventually wither away.

Love is a noun, but if you’re doing it right, it’s mostly a verb. To love someone isn’t just to sense or feel an emotion within. It’s the act of doing loving things, and often when that really is the last thing you feel like doing.

To love someone requires for you to have a servant’s heart. It means you need to care more about the state of your union than you do about getting your own way. Compromise is not a dirty word, and especially not when it comes to marriage.

To love requires you to give with no expectation of receiving anything back. To love means to find peace and contentment and satisfaction in the giving, and to understand that those senses are reward enough.

To love someone truly, and to be loved in turn, is to find a kind of comfort in being together, and after this many years, to comparing aches and pains and then laughing about them.

Building a marriage and keeping it together requires more work than most people are capable of doing, and more patience than most people believe they have.

But if you can manage to work hard and cultivate that patience, I promise you that it’s absolutely worth it.

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury