A Solo Anniversary

 

November arrived with a flurry of memories and waves of nostalgia. Forty-four years ago, November 8, was our wedding day.

The day brought with it a herd of internal butterflies and the usual last-minute snafus. The caterer and florist battled for who had priority in the reception venue. One called, expecting me to choose. “Y’all are adults,” I remember saying, “So work it out!”

The temperature soared to 80 degrees. When we chose attire for November 8, we didn’t expect it to feel like a summer day.

Jim was unreachable for most of the day. Cell phones were non-existent, so no way to reach my wayward groom. But when 8:00 p.m. finally arrived (for some reason, 8:00 p.m. was a fashionable wedding hour), there Jim was, at the end of the aisle, smiling as I walked in holding Daddy’s arm.

When we arrived at our honeymoon destination, it was well after midnight. There was a convention in town, and even though we had prepaid for the room, and stressed late arrival, the hotel had given our room to convention revelers. Thus began our lives together.

Ups and Downs

When two only children marry, it’s a recipe for conflict, or an opportunity for compromise. We each brought expectations to marriage, expectations that weren’t necessarily realistic. We were both stubborn. Eventually, we figured out how to get along together enough to stay married, but it wasn’t always easy.

I was naive about what Jim’s chronic illness would look like in reality. I felt responsible for him, and often afraid when blood sugar imbalance rendered him incoherent and combative.

I was unprepared for years of infertility. The roller-coaster of emotions that goes with infertility is enough to test even the strongest marriage.

Those struggles bonded us. Love bound us together, smoothing the rough spots, patching hurt with forgiveness and spurring forward motion with recommitment. Ultimately, the ups outweighed the downs.

Joys and Sorrows

So many joyful memories engulf me when I think of Jim and our life together—the first glimpse of our children and grandchildren, weddings, graduations, recitals, concerts, talent shows, celebrations, vacations, overseas travel. The list could go on.

Sprinkled among the joys are the sorrow of the deaths of both of our fathers too soon. Jim’s father never saw his grandchildren. My dad died when Jay was 18 months old. Later, the deaths of our mothers. All a part of the cycle of life, but hard, nonetheless.

That’s how life goes, difficulty mixed with ease, joy mingled with sorrow.

God’s Goodness

God is good, even when, no, especially when, life is hard. God’s goodness doesn’t end when circumstances are difficult; His goodness becomes even more apparent.

If I’ve learned anything in the last ten months, it is the goodness and faithfulness of God. The sudden death of a spouse rocks your world, paralyzing you in a haze of what ifs and what nows. But for every first step into uncharted territory, and for all those days I wanted to hide at home, God has proved gracious to me.

I long to go back to this time last year, when Jim and I spent unscheduled days together in the mountains, celebrating 43 years of marriage. I will always remember visiting our favorite pottery store, the waiter who brought a candle and lit it to celebrate us, sitting in a courtyard near the old mill at Pigeon Forge, and later dining al fresco by a heater as the leaves cascaded around us. Neither of us knew it would be our last anniversary celebration. Neither of us knew Jim would begin eternity a few short months later. I’m glad we didn’t know.

Looking back, I see God’s faithfulness, not just this year, but in all the years that came before. Without God’s goodness, I could not get up in the morning and step confidently into a new day. Without God’s sustaining grace I would be undone.

This year, November 8 will be very different, but God will be the same, and for that, I am grateful.

“Grieving, my soul thinks back; these thoughts cripple, and I sink down. Gaining hope, I remember and wait for this thought: How enduring is God’s loyal love; the Eternal has inexhaustible compassion. Here they are, every morning, new! Your faithfulness, God, is as broad as the day. Have courage, for the Eternal is all that I will need. My soul boasts, ‘Hope in God; just wait.’ It is good. The Eternal One is good to those who expect Him, to those who seek Him wholeheartedly. It is good to wait quietly for the Eternal to make things right again” (Lamentations 3:20-26 VOICE).

©CandyArrington

Candy Arrington is an award-winning writer, blogger, and speaker. She often writes on tough topics with a focus on moving through, and beyond, difficult life circumstances. Candy has written hundreds of articles, stories, and devotions published by numerous outlets including: Inspiration.org, Arisedaily.com, CBN.com, Healthgrades.com, Care.com, Focus on the Family, NextAvenue.org, CountryLiving.com, and Writer’s Digest. Candy’s books include Life on Pause: Learning to Wait Well (Bold Vision Books), When Your Aging Parent Needs Care (Harvest House), and AFTERSHOCK: Help, Hope, and Healing in the Wake of Suicide (B&H Publishing Group).

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