Monday, August 15, 2011

August Memories

There are a few things happening with the girls health care, but they are both stable, and I have nothing new to report.  They are both having some medication adjustments and Kathryn is about to try a new bone building drug next week, but otherwise this has been such a great summer for both of them.

August is the month that Paul and I celebrate the anniversary of our first date.  I met Paul one Sunday after church, and he came to see me at my house the next week on a Sunday night.  We went to the Dairy Queen, bought a sandwich and soft drink, and took it to a park where we talked together and ate our fast food.  There was a pretty sunset that night but the Michigan mosquitoes were ruthless.  It doesn't sound romantic, but in those few hours we found that we had common interests, common goals, and a desire to know each other better.  Those years have flown by, thirty-eight years to be exact, and now we are heading into what I like to call the twilight years.

Last Saturday night we were in our room ready to climb in bed for the night when I spotted my toe nails and thought, "I need to repaint them and trim them!"  I asked Paul for his help because a funny thing is happening during this time in my life.  My legs don't bend the way they used to, and my trifocals don't help me see well enough to trim my own toe nails.  So Paul clipped my toenails and painted them pink while we chatted about nothing in particular.  I woke up for church the next morning and shaved the wild hairs off the back of his neck and trimmed the hairs coming out of his ears. I suddenly thought about the fact that we have reached the age when we have to groom each other and wonder why that isn't written into the marriage vows.  It certainly speaks of true commitment to me. We couldn't have dreamed of these days back at the time of our first few dates, but they are here now, and there is something very sacred and sweet about celebrating who we have become.

Oh the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person - having neither to weigh thoughts or measure words, but pouring them right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with a breath of kindness blow the rest away.   Dinah Craik, 1859

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