Dear Lisa, this time exactly one year ago today, I listened to your consent to marry me at St. Michael’s Episcopal Cathedral in Boise, Idaho. The service was sacred, the reception quite festive, the gifts and cards quite bountiful. We, the bride and groom, “were in love,” and we’d beaten the usual stress that accompanies such life changing events with aplomb.
Thrice and twice down the aisle — that’s five trips in total — we had made promises to others that just simply couldn’t be kept. Yes, we’d grown cyclical about falling in love again. We’d resorted to Al Gore’s world wide web to find each other. Suddenly (well it seems like suddenly now, doesn’t it?), we oldies had just entered into a new union with the odds of success better than a nag winning at Churchill Downs. We had no prenup. We based our decision to get married on the one thing that money can’t buy: a shared and strong belief in the fact that we needed one another.
Bishop John Thornton delivered a homily that made even your dad cry. As you remember, it opened like this:
“Stuart, Lisa isn’t the only woman in the world. And yet she is the only woman in the world which, by love and for love, you and she have created.
This can be your Eden of renewal and gratefulness and wonder and delight and an unfathomable peace. Tend it.”
We have tended it, and +John reminds us every time we see him to continue doing so. We’ve made ourselves the priority, in daily life, in our recent travels, and in planning our future. It’s a bright future, wherever that may be, and I so look forward to the journey.
When I first proposed to you, I asked two questions. The first was, “Will you marry me?” And the second, “Will you marry me for fifty years?” You said “yes” to both questions.
Not that I have a mark-down-the-time calendar or anything, but don’t think for a minute that I can’t see the year 2065 from here.
I also told you before our wedding day that I would never hold your feet to the fire if I didn’t make you feel completely happy. In fact, I suggested we discuss ever year the strengths and weaknesses of our marriage and, as corny as it sounds, give each other a performance review and re-up, as some might say.
Well, I now admit that was a corny idea. You’ve loved me exactly the way I had hoped you would, exactly the way I want to be loved and exactly the way +John counseled us.
So will you, Lisa, marry me, again?