New Year’s Eve was our thirtieth wedding anniversary. Since the last ten have increasingly been blissful — in part because we’ve worked at it — I’m kind of proud of us.
Our kids took us out to dinner and then shocked us with a surprise visit from our oldest son Collin and his girlfriend who drove non-stop from Dallas to get there. For me, the whole night represented the kids’ appreciation of what our marriage has meant to them.
They still remember a fight we had when they were little… they ran from the room crying “because you might get divorced.” They equally remember some of the times when they walked in on our romantic escapades. I like that they laugh about that.
I do feel grateful, too. We had enough trouble on and off in the first twenty years of our marriage that we could have easily ended up divorced. Why didn’t we? Fate? God’s grace? I don’t know, but dumb luck was clearly part of it.
We’re planning a little getaway but haven’t decided on where yet. I want to head north to Lake Superior and some snowshoeing. She wants to head south to Chicago and some museum-hopping. Oh oh.