Happy Anniversary Love

Thirty-five years ago today I was married to my high school sweetheart that I have known since summer school, before our freshman year. So I have only NOT known my husband 14 of my 55 years.  
(Take a deep breath here and think a minute about how long that is……pausing…..pausing……pausing……..)
That’s a lot of years and a lot of marriage seasons. I am not sure I was prepared, in fact I know I wasn’t, for the marriage seasons. They don’t much correspond to the calendar. And there are more than 4 different seasons. We are still discovering them in fact.
(I think I better have a think before I write more.)
(Okay so I am back at the tail end of our anniversary day which is ending as it began, with the love of my life asleep and snoring and me at the computer.)
When we were oh so young and pretty innocent of the ways of the world, I don’t think anyone prepared us for the seasons of marriage and even if they did, we didn’t listen. We were giddy in love and wanted to be together all the time. In those days, it was rare to live together in my little hometown. It would have been a very hippy thing to do. Most certainly the eldest daughter of Ralph and Gloria did not live together with a young man without benefit of some marriage vows and a backyard full of relatives and bratwurst on the grill.
We find ourselves at this stage enjoying the season Texas has brought us through to. We have learned to tolerate drought, grown a few prickles to fend off impatience, yet humbled by the joy in being so comfortable together. Seasons aren’t easy here. It takes work. It takes willingness to suffer discomfort. It’s risky. Yet just when you think it’s bleakest, wildflowers will burst into bloom from between crags in rocks, the kind of wildflowers not seen in ages, the kind that only bloom having been through the harshness of drought and cold. Such a bloom is usally exquisite in all ways, fragile, sacred. God’s magnificent design in nature sets such an awesome standard for the rest of us. How can we not want to work at blooming for Him?
Don’t get me wrong, I do think sometimes it would be great to run to Tahiti where things are lush and green, but that season is gone.
The seasons ahead are really far more interesting.

About Robin Arnold

Reader, writer, gardener, geek, maker of homes in several states, now settled in Virginia with husband Bob, and Hazel and Wilson the tabby cats.
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