Anniversary

Dean and I recently celebrated our 22nd wedding anniversary. On that day, we usually do a running tabulation. In 22 years, we have owned 18 different vehicles, established ‘home’ at 7 different addresses, had 3 amazing, yet extremely different from each other children, owned 3 dogs, traveled numerous miles together, and spent WAY too many nights camping in the rain!! We have laughed and cried, but we have always tried to have more laughter in a day than tears.

This year, we were lucky enough to spend the day in San Francisco attending the wedding of a childhood friend of Dean’s. It was a special weekend spent with ‘old’ friends (not friends who are chronologically old, let’s be clear, but merely friends who were with us on our wedding day). It was a beautiful day. Before attending the evening wedding, we enjoyed a boat ride in the Bay, circling Alcatraz, seeing the city from the water, and of course stealing a quick kiss as we rode under the Golden Gate bridge. Later, we trekked up one of the steepest hills I think I have ever encountered. When we reached the top of that hill, we were greeted with a beautiful view of the Bay and City. We also had reached our sought after destination–the famous section of Lombard Street on Russian Hill. For one city block, Lombard Street twists and turns its way thru tight hairpin turns. On either side of the street are sidewalk steps. The story goes that in 1922 the then property owner suggested creating the series of twists and turns to reduce the hill’s natural severe grade. Most vehicles were unable to climb the steep grade. Today it is claimed to be the "the crookedest (most winding) street in the world". We all took many pictures as we made our way down the sidewalk steps and back down the hill to our hotel.

On our walk that day, I couldn’t help but compare the ups and downs and twists and turns to our 22 years of wedded life. We laughed repeatedly that weekend as we all looked at maps to plot out our course, only to be surprised by gigantic hills that somehow weren’t depicted on the maps. I think we each repeated more than once ‘hey this wasn’t on the map’. Isn’t that how life is? Isn’t that how marriage is? Sometimes, you think you have it all plotted out, but then you encounter a huge hill you didn't anticipate.

That uphill climb was tough, I was breathless by the time we reached the top. I could tell that the stress of the past few years has taken its toll on my body. At several points, Dean stopped and grabbed my hand encouraging me to keep coming with him. At those times, again, I couldn’t help but think about that walk in comparison to our 22 years of marriage. The walk was tough, but we laughed together and worked thru it together. When we reached the top of the grade, we were greeted with beautiful vistas that overwhelmed me a bit and made me smile. We viewed that section of road with its crazy series of switchbacks and watched cars slowly, carefully, maneuver downhill over the red brick road, taking great pains to not lose control and reach their destination in one piece.

I find that we have done that too. The last 22+ years together, we have encountered our fair share of unforeseen steep hills. When we stand at the bottom of those hills, we spend time in communication with God, and with each other. ‘Show us how to best forage on Lord’. Then, we don’t stop, we try to keep moving forward. Sometimes we might slip back, but we always regain our footing when we remember to spend time in communication with God. We then are able to reach that top and take a deep breath, and absorb the view and encounter something joyful. While we want to stay at that top, we push ourselves to keep moving, maybe thru a few more twists and turns, until we reach level ground. Then, we regroup and we chart a new path to a new destination. All the while, we grow together thru the journey that is marriage, and we grow together in our faith in God.

Thank you for an interesting 22 years Dean. Thank you for forging up the steep grade and thru the twists and turns. Thank you for holding my hand when I’m out of breath and don't think that I can take another step.