Mornings...

I love the mornings.

I haven't always.

Morning used to be my least favorite part of the day. 

Retirement made the difference.

And remarriage.

 

You see, I'm a slow starter.

It takes me a while to wake up after I get up.

Before retirement, I didn't have time for a slow start,

I had to hit the ground running.

The same was true when I left my full-time job

to become a full-time caregiver to my Al.

That is what I was thinking about this morning. 

 

At this point eleven years ago,

we were nearing the end.

I didn't really have to rush into the morning anymore.

He was sleeping most of the time,

was not really eating anymore,

and once he'd had his meds and sponge bath,

the house was quiet.

And lonely.

I could take the time to wake slowly,

but it wasn't pleasant,

it was sad.

The same was true after.

 

Eventually, I went back to a full-time job

and mornings were once again a rush-job.

But even though I still wakened slowly,

the rush was better than the slow, quiet wake-up 

of my empty house.

 

But this morning,

and all my mornings now,

is different.

This morning, I woke just before dawn,

I stretched luxuriously,

rolled over and looked at my sleeping husband,

smiled and touched his beautiful face,

rolled out from under the covers,

and the dog and I snuck quietly out of our room.

 

I and my coffee sat in my rocking chair for a bit,

then moved to my cozy easy chair where I can see

all the Christmas trees in this part of the house,

our sweet little Christmas village,

and out the window to our waking neighborhood.

I read and sipped my coffee.

I thought of my sleeping husband.

And I compared, which I don't often do.

 

I thought of those mornings 11 years ago

when I sat near a sleeping husband,

watching intently.

I didn't relax.

I didn't enjoy.

I listened for the oxygen tank.

I watched for the rising and lowering of my beloved's chest as he breathed.

 

Now I sit quietly, joyously anticipating the wakening of my beloved.

I read.

I ponder.

I pet the dog, the cats.

I slowly sip my coffee.

I watch the neighborhood -

    the leaves scuttling across the yards,

        the kitties exploring,

            the people driving past on their way to work or school.

I revel in my quiet, slow awakening.

I find myself wondering why I am so blessed.

I do not have an answer.

I am undeserving.

I am not a "better person" than many who are not so blessed.

I am not a "holier" person - believe this if you believe nothing else!

I am not a wiser person.

It is not that I have given my heart to Jesus -

    though I have - 

many others have and do not have my earthly blessings.

And many haven't and have many more "worldly" blessings than I.

No, I live in the same fallen world as the rest of you.

I fall prey to the tricks of satan from time to time

just like everyone else.

Still I am greatly blessed and highly favored among women.

I do not know why.

I do know this.

I AM greatly blessed and highly favored among women!

As I approach the new year,

my 12th of widowhood,

my 9th of remarriage,

I cannot help but look at both my husbands

and praise God!

The Promise

Eight years ago this evening,

I made a promise.

I had made that same promise

one faraway afternoon 40 years earlier.

I kept that promise.

And I will keep this one.

"With this ring, I thee wed...

...Until death do us part."

The first time I made The Promise,

I had no idea what I was promising!

None!

I had experienced loss before

and my mother's impending death

loomed large the afternoon of that first Promise,

so I thought I knew.

I didn't.

I loved, still love, my Al.

Our love grew and deepened over the years

to a thing of great beauty.

I ran across a note from a friend a while back, 

written about 20 years ago,

commenting on how well I loved my husband.

I was comforted by that note

because I AM a much better wife to my Lanny Love

than I was to my Al

and that brings me sadness - and joyful gratitude.

But though I loved him,

though I logically understood The Promise,

I did not.

I didn't understand its depth,

    its breadth,

        its height,

            its fullness.

I couldn't.

But that evening eight years ago,

I understood The Promise intimately.

And it is different to make The Promise with foreknowledge.

We had talked about it, my Lanny Love and I.

When it became apparent that 

our relationship was headed toward permanence,

he asked me to think about it.

I had, before I ever decided to begin the dating process,

but I promised to think and pray some more.

And I made The Promise a few months later.

Remarriage from widowhood is different.

The starry-eyed innocence of first marriage is missing.

The knowledge of The Promise changes expectations.

I went to bed last night with the knowledge that 

this morning may be very different.

And I woke this morning in celebration that it wasn't.

In 8 years, that hasn't changed, the morning celebration!

Honestly, when I first started dating,

I was simply desperate to make the pain go away.

I started too early.

The distraction provided by dating

did not ease the pain of loss.

After I got my little heart broken,

and broke the heart of another,

I stepped back and grieved,

because there's no way through it

except through it!

When I began dating the second time,

I did it with knowledge of the cost.

    I wasn't looking to stop the pain of losing my Al.

        I wasn't looking to relieve loneliness.

            I wasn't looking for companionship.

I was following God's leading.

That is the very best way to approach dating under any circumstance.

I was picky!

I mean, I was PICKY!!!

I had a list.

Yup, an actual, written list.

 

                                                Non-negotiables

                                                    Really, really important, but negotiable

                                                        It would be really nice

Before I ever went on a first date,

I checked off the non-negotiable list.

I didn't go on more first dates than I did.

There were a few second dates,

    only a couple third,

        no kisses.

Did I mention I was picky?

Then came the day.

 

"This man is slightly outside your set perimeters 

but we think you'd like him."

It was not the first time I had received that message.

And I always checked the profiles.

This one was different.

I checked it again.

And again.

Then I did what I did not do -

I made the first contact.

 

After the fourth "canned question" exchange,

he invited me to email.

I accepted.

Several weeks later, 

after many long email exchanges,

was the first date,

    followed by a second,

        and a third,

            then a first - a fourth and a kiss!

This paragon of manhood checked off every single item on my lists!

And many I hadn't even known I wanted!

Our first kiss,

    "I think I'm falling in love with you..."

        "I am in love with you!"

I was too!!!

In just a few short weeks,

we began to talk about "if we were to marry...".

In the fifth month of our relationship "if" became "when".

 

That God had His hand in our relationship is very evident.

We are both fascinated by the number of times our paths crossed

long before either of us thought we would ever be dating,

and repeatedly after our widowhoods.

We enjoy the mutual hesitation and eventual decision

to sign up for eHarmony at about the same time.

God intended to bring us together!

He is so wise!!!

 

So today, on the eighth anniversary of The Promise,

    I am filled with joyous gratitude.

        I am in love!

            I am happy!

                I am living the life God planned for me!

And one day, when it comes due,

if I am the one left,

through the tears and sorrow,

I will be glad I made The Promise!

 

Happy Anniversary, my Lanny Love! 

Only already

Tomorrow.

Eight years.

Simultaneously I find myself saying

 

"Eight ALREADY?!?!?"

and

"Only EIGHT???" 

 

People often comment that we still behave like newlyweds.

They envy what we have.

We often wonder to one another if other couples our age are like us.

I don't think they are. 

 

I am a people watcher.

I enjoy watching interactions and relationships.

Especially with older couples.

I notice when couples talk in a restaurant...

    and when they don't.

I notice how couples look at each other.

I notice when they hold hands or walk with arms entwined.

I notice how they touch...

    or don't.

And I've started asking.

 

"Y'all are so cute! How long have you been married?"

 

I always hope to hear 32 or 37 or 45 or 53 years.

I don't very often.

I am more likely to hear two or seven or ten years.

Occasionally I ask their story.

A very large percentage are widowed,

a few divorced,

once a first marriage for one, divorce for the other.

They are all but one people who have loved and lost.

And learned.

 

I dare say that if I pursued my questioning,

if I asked about their previous marriages,

they would each say that,

no,

their first marriages had not been as...

    noticeable.

 

We learn from loss.

I spend a lot of my time on this blog

    encouraging people not to wait for 

        the excessively expensive lesson to learn. 

But we all do to some degree.

I am -

    sadly and gladly -

a better wife to my Lanny Love than I was to my Al.

 

It feels like we have been together forever.

It feels like we are newlyweds.

It is a marvelous blend!

 

We learned.

May we never forget!