A Whitest Day

"I do" are the two most famous last words,
The beginning of the end;
But to lose your life for another, I've heard,
Is a good place to begin.

'Cause the only way to find your life
Is to lay your own life down,
And I believe it's an easy price
For the life that we have found.

And we're dancing in the minefields;
We're sailing in the storm.
This is harder than we dreamed
But I believe that's what the promise is for.

That's what the promise is for...

It's Midsummer. It's kind of a special point, don't you think? Midsummer. And it has such a beautiful ring to it. Speaking of a ring to it, two years ago yesterday, on Midsummer's Eve, this young lady was married. In our age, marrying at the age of eighteen strikes people as unwise; and, in many cases, sadly, they might be right. But being unfettered by social winds and adhering to a more biblical method than contemporary wisdom, my father and my husband's father raised, not children, but adults. So by the time I was eighteen (my husband had just turned nineteen) we were ready for marriage. We had been gearing toward it for years. This precocious child, at the age of four, had already decided that the blond bean-pole of a gentleboy was for her, so everyone could see this marriage coming from a league off.

After twenty years, though, two years doesn't seem like much: only two years of being actually married, and yet it seems like forever. It hasn't been an easy twenty years, of course. There were pockets of mines and rough patches, and my husband and I had a lot of growing to do, which is perfectly natural. I'm usually one to fixate on the traumatic moments in my life, but in these cases all those delightful moments of shared childhood and shared adolescence come to the fore. We were like Peter Pan and his shadow, one always tagging right behind the other, and always getting into some kind of trouble. It isn't often that one gets to have such a history, and to be still making that kind of history (we don't get into so much trouble now, though our childish streaks are still glaring - silly artsy people, us) and I'm very, very grateful to God for this gift.

You're the first light of the morning, my cool sunrise;
You're my love across the table, a little sleep in your eyes;
You're my strong cup of coffee, you like to laugh right with me.
You're my heart's companion, my one true companion:
Sweet darling, lover of mine.

In It's A Wonderful Life, it is brought home to the viewer how important even a single person is in someone's life. I know I would not be who I am today, nor where I am today - not even a shadow of who or where - if it were not for my husband. He has always been there for me, and he has been patient with me, and helped me grow, indulged and even shared my quirks, been "such a child!" with me, and been serious with me... I look at what God has given me in him and I can't quite believe my eyes. God's gifts are rather splendid like that, aren't they? They are all different, but each one fits perfectly. There will still be minefields, and storms (these drive us to the arms of the Father together, don't they?), and moments of peaceful quiet and ridiculous fun (these refresh the soul, don't they?) - but Lord willing we will have many Midsummer Eves to see yet side by side, and, Lord willing, each Midsummer will find us grown a little more in our Father than the year before.

"Dear heart, press on; let not husband, let not anything, cool thy affections after Christ. I hope he will be an occasion to inflame them. That which is best worthy of love in thy husband is that of the image of Christ he bears. Look on that, and love it best, and all the rest for that."

7 ripostes:

  1. How beautiful. :)Happy anniversary!

  2. Oh wow! Did you 'specially pick Midsummer's Eve for your wedding? What a beautiful and heartfelt piece. Is the poetry your own? I'll try not to be jealous that you got to marry your childhood sweetheart, it's one of those fairy tales most girls can only dream of. I guess God has something special for each of us, but *sigh*...you are so lucky :-)

  3. Jenny, that is simply beautiful. Like Ajnos said, you do have such a rare blessing to be with your childhood sweetheart, and even more than that, the love between you two is founded on Christ. What a shining example in our contemporary culture that is so confused about relationships. (And you knew he was the one at age four! I had not even reached the 'boys have cooties' phase at that point in my life...) Anyway, your post was deeply moving. All the best to you both! ^.^

  4. Thank you, Keaghan!

    We didn't pick the twentieth of June because of any of its astronomical qualities. It wasn't until our first anniversary that it dawned on me which day it fell on. How adept I am with a calendar... I fear the poetry was not my own. The first was a piece by Andrew Peterson, the second by Fernando Ortega, and the third excerpt was from a letter penned by Oliver Cromwell to his daughter Bridget. Ah, dear goodness... We joked about how much we were like "an old married couple" by the time we were into our mid teens. We still joke. Two peas in a pod, he and I. Thank you for your best wishes on our day, and for your prayers.

  5. Ahem. By way of post script, we really do look a lot like that "photograph."

  6. Awww, the sweetness and dearness. ^.^ Congratulations on two years of your marriage, Jenny!

  7. Aw, what a sweet, lovely post. :) Happy Anniversary, Jenny! I hope you celebrate many more! <3

    And I love the idea of being married on Midsummer's Eve... it sounds so whimsical and enchanted. Perfect date! :)