Twenty-five years ago on May 15, Andrew and I were married. It was a big wedding with a simple parish hall reception; the weather was picture perfect. The photographer (I think his name was Kevin) disappeared after sending us the photo proofs, so we don’t have a fancy record of the day, except in our hearts.
That was painful and yet okay: I’ve never been big on taking photographs of people, anyway. I prefer to be with those I love, experiencing life instead of documenting it. Yet I’m glad to have a few pictures of my wedding day. They remind me of who I was before I grew into who I am.
Succeeding in staying married for a quarter century is no small feat. Andrew and I have weathered many things: his depression, the mental illnesses of several children, job loss, financial strain. There have been times I’ve prayed wryly, “Okay, YOU joined us together, Lord…so if you want us to stay that way, you’d better get busy!”
I’ve also prayed in the midst of intense irritation, “Lord, teach me to love this man because right now I don’t know how.”
But the best prayer I know–the one that has softened my heart and provided a shift in perspective and hope–has been this one, which a friend posted on her blog, DarwinCatholic:
O Jesus, I ask you to grant my love every good gift. Give him grace, strength and wisdom; give him fortitude and prudence and charity. Give him riches, spiritual riches that will last into eternity. Give him peace and purity and patience. Give him rest.
And choose me, Jesus. Choose me to be the one through whom he receives these gifts. Allow me to be your way of loving him on earth. Keep us always united in your love.
May our marriage on earth be a sign of the perfect love of heaven, and may we come, with our children, into eternal life with you.
