The Old Boy and I attended a wedding on the weekend. He was the officiating minister, which was a delight for me. Partly because I’m always proud of what a great job he does and partly because he looks drop-dead gorgeous in a suit. (He only wears them for weddings and funerals.) The time spent at the marriage celebrations evoked in me all sorts of emotions and memories.

We first met the bride when she was just a little girl. She and her family lived in the country town where the Old Boy had his first posting as a pastor. As is the way in small towns, we got to know her family, including her grandparents, very well. The bride’s grandmother, Ruth, was my friend. When I was first diagnosed with cancer Ruth was very upset. She was scared that I would die. While I was still undergoing treatment, Ruth and her husband had a serious car crash. (They’d collided with a cow. No one wins in that situation.) My husband and I went to the hospital to visit her and to support her family as best we could. By the end of that week she was taken off life-support and she was gone. 18 years later, I’m still here. Ironic, isn’t it? It showed me that life is a precious, fragile thing that should be treasured. We all might think and hope that we’ll live to an extraordinary old age and then die in our sleep, but in reality that is the exception rather than the rule. None of us know how long we have.

Listening to the young couple say their vows, promising to be faithful companions, sharing the ups and downs of life and pledging their undying love, I suddenly realised how blessed I was. That’s exactly the marriage I have with the Old Boy. We’ve faced some difficult things in our nearly 38 years together – lots of times in hospital, three miscarriages, the death of friends, my mother’s dementia, my parents’ death, changing jobs and homes and communities, for a few years having no or very little income, and now this final journey with the Big C – and throughout it all we’ve dealt with everything together. My husband has kept his promise to cherish me, to love me, to support me and to be my best friend. I think I’ve had the better deal than him, andI’m taking the opportunity right now to tell you all how wonderful he is.

Okay, he doesn’t often bring me flowers, or chocolate, or diamonds and he hasn’t bought me my two big dreams: a pool and a pink car. But he is my love, my rock and my better half. He encourages me when I feel like giving up. He gives of himself to others, sometimes to the point of exhaustion and, even though I worry about him, I am so proud of him that sometimes I could pop my shirt buttons. We’re a team. We’re salt and pepper; ebony and ivory; Bib and Bub. I wouldn’t want to spend my life with anyone else.

As the years have gone by I have come to realise that I am truly blessed to have such a wonderful marriage. There are a lot of hurting people in the world, wounded by bad relationships: sometimes damaged by alcohol or drug abuse; sometimes damaged by an abusive partner; sometimes devastated by unfaithfulness or cruelty. So, I thank God for giving me the Old Boy. I “give him props” for sticking with me all this time. What a champ!

This was your yearly dose of sentimentality. Back to the regular programming next week. 🙂