Memories are funny things. There are some details of the past that we remember, and other details are forgotten forever.
Twenty-two years ago today I went to a high school football game. My brother was playing on one of the teams, and my fiance was coaching that same team. It was a perfect autumn day … the sun shining brightly, the air crisp, the leaves on the trees in the early stages of turning from bright green to hues of gold and red. It is a day I remember so well, because it was the day of the biggest argument of our dating relationship … the day before our wedding.
I have no idea what we were arguing about, I can only remember the intensity of the emotions I felt. Obviously, whatever it was that had vexed us was resolved, and the following day I met him at the end of the aisle, where we traded in our individual lives for a future together.
The memories of our wedding day decrease with each passing year. If there are this many fewer memories after twenty-two years, will I even remember that I am married in twenty-two more?
But, what I do remember are the vivid broad strokes of our day.
I remember that our wedding started late, and it wasn’t because I was trying to be fashionably late … our soloist was flying into New Brunswick from Toronto, and his flight was late.
I remember that the pastor we had to marry us thought he was at a preach-a-thon … he spoke for about an hour after the processional, before actually marrying us.
I remember that my mother in law wore gray … much cheerier than the black that her mother wore at her wedding.
I remember that, as I looked at my groom awaiting me at the end of the aisle, he was gray (like his mother’s dress), and looked as though he might pass out … so much for the groom’s look of awe at the brides glowing beauty …
So, not all memories are so sweet 😉 but, alas, my memories of our wedding day were also not all so depressing.
I remember a twinge of regret as my dad ‘gave me away’ to my groom.
I remember how confident I felt as I repeated my vows, and said ‘I do.’
I remember that when my groom slipped his ring (a most simple band) on my finger I could not imagine a more wonderful, a more exquisite piece of jewelery in the world.
I remember gladly signing my name on the marriage license.
I remember driving off to our honeymoon (a trip, by car, of over 3000 miles … one way … and hubby wonders why I have little interest in road trips), reliving the details of the day, together.
The memories of that day fill my mind and my heart at times like this, when we remember and celebrate our corporate survival, and our hope of many years to come.
Happy Anniversary Hubby


It is a time to remember the events of that day, and the human losses.

All joking aside, it is a commandment … the fifth (Exodus 20:12), as a matter of fact it says, “to honor your mother and your father, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.” Now I don’t know what land God is giving to me … I have moved a few times, and I expect there are a few more moves to come. But I am not sure that ‘land’ in this context necessarily means land. I think that maybe it means place, location, culture, context … family.
very common, how very painful and how very life-changing they are on those who share such experiences.
The reason for the emotional and physical reactions to the mention, and then reading of that scripture is that one night, as I slept, after the loss of our first child, I had a dream. The dream was of a man, I do not remember what he looked like, but I knew, with everything within me, that it was Jesus. And, in the dream, I handed a baby to Him … our baby. And Jesus looked into the wrapped up child, and His eyes were riveted to the tiny babe, and He smiled … that wonder-filled smile that we all smile, when we gaze into the face of creation. And then He looked at me, with such love, such compassion, such comfort, and He said “I will take care of your treasure for you, until you return. While you have this treasure, with me, in heaven, your heart will be here too.”
Graduation happens tonight for two of my three students (boy, do I know how to work myself out of a job). And, as with many ‘formalities’ in our lives, it takes me back … way back!
University was not the goal of most of my fellow grads, although many did go … for a year (or, in my case, a few months) and a number even graduated. Many did go to college. But getting a job was the main goal for most … in a day and time when ‘you need to have a university degree to succeed’ was preached regularly preached at us. I am still, twenty-four years later, amazed that educated people can think that any one path works for all … obviously they forget that the people who fix their broken cars, unplug their septic systems, and wire that new outlet all do so without an undergrad! But, I digress …
And for those students, high school graduation (whatever ‘title’ their diploma has … dogwood or evergreen) is their finest moment … so far …
that my nasal passages could never forget. The sights and smells of wild roses.



