Newlyweds 36 Years Later

There we stood. Side by side in front of the bathroom mirror. In our underwear. Brushing out teeth. If it were not for my husband’s more reserved nature and the potential for Internet misuse (not to mention basic Christian modesty) it would have made a great picture for this post.

As I stood there brushing my teeth, I realized this is marital bliss thirty-six years later. This is true romance at the deepest level. Two people so comfortable with each other that mundane daily routines are causes for deep affection. Thirty-six years ago we could never have envisioned we would be standing here like this. Well, we certainly hoped we would be together thirty-six years later, but young love never contemplates the body thirty-six years later. Never could imagine all the miles and all the experiences shared along the way.

I had just finished a session of premarital counseling the day before. I could not help but wish I could have shown them this picture. This young couple is pretty exceptional. They understand, at least intellectually, that marriage is not primarily about romance and that the ideal peddled in movies and songs is a complete sham. But can they really understand how much marriage is about everyday sharing of things like brushing your teeth? After years of being frustrated by Christian books about marriage (I always had to disclaim two or three chapters) I have finally found an excellent one for modern young couples biblically sound and in touch with reality. It is Are You Waiting for the One? by Margaret Kim Peterson and Dwight N. Peterson, published by InterVarsity Press. I highly recommend it. In fact, I am going to recommend that our church’s student ministries program use it for our teens. The message of the book is epitomized in this statement. “Marriage is a school for character. . . an arena in which we can practice the art of faithfully bearing with one another in the midst of all that life brings.”

Further, the Peterson’s offer a very helpful alternative to the often polarizing choices of headship (where the man holds the power) and egalitarianism (where power is equally distributed). They offer the metaphor of teamwork, mutual “cooperation that relies on each other’s strengths and covers for each other’s weaknesses.” No matter what a couple calls their relationship, the reality of everyday life is lived out through teamwork more often than anything else. This is what I saw in the reflection in the mirror that morning—thirty six years of cooperation, teamwork.

Back to the bathroom mirror picture . . . Both my husband and I are in fairly good shape so with the range of possibilities the reflection wasn’t so bad. But it was the simplicity of the reflection in the mirror and all the everyday moments that it represented that got me thinking. Though some authors and some theologians would press husbands and wives into a one-size-fits-all mold, the Petersons’ book was refreshing because it more accurately reveals the reality of what marriage is like. There is no custom mold for marriage. Just as our reflection in the mirror differs from every other couple’s reflection, so the relationship between and husband and a wife differs with every couple. God has created each one of us unique. Two unique individuals joining lives are going to create unique patterns of living together, but always shoulder to should, side by side, navigating one day at a time.

The reflection got me thinking about how very seldom the long-term commitment of two people living very ordinary lives is portrayed in the media. Actually, though many would find fault with some of the material, the television program Modern Family and the marriage of Phil and Claire comes as close as I have seen. Though they are often challenged by cultural expectations of what their marriage should be, they always come to the realization that what it is—comfortable and ordinary but committed and faithful—is really what matters.

The reflection got me thinking. Flowers and gifts are wonderful. Words of kindness and love are precious. Romance is fabulous. But the everyday ordinary acts of faithfulness are the real warp and woof of a marriage that lasts. Taking out the garbage when it stinks, doing a load of laundry when the bin is overflowing, emptying the dishwasher, working in the yard, filling my car with gas when I have not even noticed it is close to empty, reminding me (forgetful as I am) to close the windows on my car, faithfully (and without complaint) waiting for me when one more meeting goes longer than I anticipated, a new tube of toothpaste appearing in my basket when the last one is squeezed to death—all of these are expressions of affection and commitment that are not glamorous but, like our reflections in the mirror they are who we are and what much of life is made up of. The simple things year after year add up to profound trust and deep comfort.

I will not be able to show to the young couple I am counseling the picture of us standing side by side brushing our teeth in our underwear. But I will talk with them about these things—reflections of love that last a lifetime. I can only hope and pray that thirty-six years from now they will be standing side by side brushing their teeth and looking in the mirror, too, and giving thanks for a marriage that is built on love that is demonstrated through the simple, every day acts of sharing life together, side by side.

Til Death Did Them Part

Although my father’s story of his time as a prisoner of war in WWII is a very tragic one filled with brutality and man’s inhumanity to man, it does have a fairytale ending of sorts.

When the Japanese surrendered in August 1945, of the 300,000 prisoners they had taken, 200,000 survived—barely. Like my father most of them were severely malnourished and diseased. Almost all of them weighed under 100 pounds. The prisoners lost an average of 25 pound a year. Most were prisoners for 3.5 years, meaning they lost 75-90 pounds. My father joined the Army weighing 160 pounds, and he weighed 90 pounds when he was liberated. All of these POWs were seriously ill with malaria, dengue fever, beri beri, and dysentery. Along with 200,000 other soldiers my father spent the next three months in a variety of hospitals being nursed back to his normal weight. It took almost three months. In October 1945 my dad was in Schick General Hospital in Clinton, Iowa, getting very close to being released to go home. There he met Alpheus Brown, who was in the bed next to him. They were both from the Brainerd Lakes area of Minnesota. Al showed my father a picture of his sister Hazel. She was a beautiful young thing! My dad declared, “I am going to marry her.” Al was outraged and responded, “Over my dead body!” Uncle Al later told my husband and me that he thought my dad was some kind of a weirdo! He was so friendly and talkative, Al thought something was wrong with him. But true to form—my father was a very determined man—Ken went home, met Hazel, and less than three months later they were married. The plot thickens.

Mom’s sister Harriet had also begun dating another ex-POW and long-time family friend Carl Kramp when he returned home in October 1945. Mom and Harriet had a best friend named Arlene Leibold. They did not want Al to be left out of the fun, so in late December they called Arlene and asked her if she would like to go out with them. Ken and Hazel, Carl and Harriet, and Al and Arlene went out on a Friday in late December. I don’t know what happened Saturday, but on Sunday Al and Arlene were engaged too. On February 20, 1946, the three couples were married in a triple wedding at my grandparent’s home in Nisswa, Minnesota. The brides all in identical gowns, the guys all in U.S. Army uniforms covered in medals, all three couples married after dating each other less than three months.

Young people who hear this story are aghast. How could these couples possibly do such a thing? They barely knew each other! And what bride would want to share their wedding day with two other couples, let alone wear the exact same dress? And the venue? A living room? As kids would say today, “Shut up!”

Yet these three marriages stood the test of time. Al and Arlene were married 30 years when Al died of a heart attack in 1976. Carl and Harriet were married over 60 years when both of them died in their eighties. And my mom and dad were married 60 years and two months when my father died in 2006. These marriages worked. These men came home after sacrificing some of the best years of their lives serving their country and settled down to do the same for their wives and families. The same work ethic, dedication, and faithfulness that got them enlisted and deployed, and helped them survive unspeakable brutality now went to work to build their homes, families, and this great country we now live in. These Greatest Generation men and women knew what commitment was. When they said “until death do us part,” they meant it.

The sorrow and suffering of their stories was in large part redeemed by this happy ending of three marriages that stood the test of time. All three men almost gave their lives in service to their country. When they survived they did give their lives in service to their families. They remained faithful to each other “till death did them part.”