Together, In Love
When I think back on watching my mom and dad together, I only see love.
To be sure, neither of them were perfect, together or apart. But neither is love! I am sure they had their fights, some deserved and some not so much. I am sure they had their massive disagreements; some they got over and some they just learned to accept. I am sure they had jealousies and communication problems and money issues. And as much as I am grossed out to even bring it up, I am sure they approached sex from different pages. But despite those differences and disagreements, they always showed each other love.
Dad was sick for nearly the last ten years of their marriage, and mom was right there with him, although it wasn’t easy. And dad stood beside mom in everything she did. They didn’t just have each other’s back; they were in it together. There had to be times they felt like throwing in the towel, especially when dad demanded so much care towards the end of his life. But they chose to love in spite of it all. And I think that is the key: they chose to love.
In the denomination I grew up in, women could be pastors. So, they were both pastors at our church, a two for one, with both taking on leadership roles they were better equipped with. If it was a restaurant, you could say that dad took care of the “front of the house” while mom took care of the “back of the house.” One in the spotlight an done in the shadows, both necessary to see a church function properly. And both aspects of ministry that come with complications and under appreciation. But I never saw my dad treat my mom as a “lesser” partner in ministry or in life, instead always as an equal. I don’t know if my mom would agree with that, but that’s what I saw.
I also saw love on display. They were never afraid to kiss and hug in front of my brother, sister, and I. We likely responded with, “Eww! Gross!” But they were always engrossed with each other. They’d hold hands. Mom would sit closer to dad in the car as he drove on long trips. They took walks together and went grocery shopping together. They ran errands together and went to school functions together. They went on dates and short trips together. They did menial chores together and took on weeklong responsibilities at church camps together. And they laughed together. A lot. They certainly had fun together. There was a lot of “together” with my parents. And together, they told us stories of how their love came to be.
Mom and dad met in Bible college in Ohio. She was from Indiana; dad was from Iowa. Dad was a year younger than mom, and he was a pimple-faced, nerdy pastor in training. With no game. And not much more self-esteem. So, his friends pushed him through a doorway and into my mom so they would have to talk. Childish behavior for some future pastors, but it worked. They dated, and soon it was time to meet the parents. In addition to no game, dad must not have had a car, either, because he had to borrow a car to drive from Ohio to Indiana to meet her parents. A friend from Illinois let them borrow a car, a car that was apparently easy to speed in. When dad was pulled over on an Ohio highway, it looked suspicious. An Iowan. With a girl from Indiana. In a car from Illinois. Speeding down an Ohio highway. That’s four states! And a modern-day crime story waiting to happen. The story didn’t quite add up to the officer, and he placed my dad under arrest. My mom did the only thing she knew to remedy the situation: she called her dad to bail out my dad. And so, my dad met my grandpa through the bars of a jail.
From that starting point, how could it not get better? Making it better was a lifelong goal, although being called to ministry didn’t always financially align with “better.” But they both chose to work at ministry, at life, and at love together. And we all saw it. We saw what a committed marriage looks like, the work it takes to make it work, and the ways small things can make big differences. For both of them, giving enough of themselves was never enough; they always wanted to give more to show their love for each other. On Valentine's Day, their anniversary, my mom’s birthday, or at Christmas, I remember my dad buying gifts they had agreed not to give or exceeding limits on the gifts they agreed to give. When my mom said, “you shouldn’t have,” she wasn’t exaggerating or being coy. And my mom gave dad space to work extra jobs and serve on extra boards and committees, knowing that it meant more work for her with us kids. She certainly gave when she continued to care for her mother-in-law long after my dad could. But all of that she showed that you can give in excess in other ways beyond presents.
February is a time of Valentine’s and celebrating love. I can’t think of anything more important to me than my wife and kids. My kids know I love their mom. They hear me say it often. I Want to hear them say “Eww! Gross!” more often. But that’s just one of the things that my wife and I disagree on and learn to accept. Just like every couple, we have our fights, usually over stupid things that don’t matter, and we have our disagreements and jealousies and communication and money issues. It’s funny how two people from totally different backgrounds are crammed into a home and told to live happily ever after. How the heck do you do that?
My parents taught me that “happily ever after” comes down to a simple thing. Even if “ever after” is cut short for one of them. And that simple thing is a choice to be together, to be in love.
