On June 1 my parents will celebrate their 65th wedding anniversary. That seems like an eternity to me. And I am incredibly grateful for all that their shared love has taught me about what the best of love looks like. They taught me that you can bicker and fiercely defend your own opinion and then turn right around and go dancing and share hearty laughter and gentle romance. When I was a little girl, my parents always went on dates. Even when money was tight they got babysitters and savored nights out with friends and went on trips without the kids. And I learned that their love was solid and strong and beautiful and I was safe. They worked harder than I thought was humanly possible, both at their jobs and with household chores and as volunteers in the community and they always made time to do things to show love to each other. Dad filled Mom’s car with gas and Mom packed Dad’s lunch for the office. Sacrifice was never as a martyr but always in service of a deep love and affection, a thread in the fabric of vibrant love. They parented as a team and my sister and I had no fleeting doubt that we were loved. And they practiced their faith together, sitting together every Sunday in church. Religion was not something you talked about, but something you lived. And so in honor of my parents’ love, I offer this poem from Wendell Berry.
Loving you has taught me the infinite
Grace and Peace,