Anniversary Waltz

Well, it was 58 years ago this January night. There was about ten inches of snow on the ground. Louisville, Kentucky snow. The streets were icy. My, my was it cold. But a whole lot of crazy people braved the elements and gathered in the Beechmont Baptist Church for our wedding. 

I don't really think that semi-snowy blizzard was a foretaste of things to come. Moments, yeah--but not the marriage. The blizzard never lasted. The snow melted and the sun came out again. 

But she has been a trooper. Still hanging on for dear life after six churches and, I think nine interims. Again and again she kept saying: "You'll get through this...Everything will work out." Huh? She was right. Once after I had resigned a church without a place to go. I was way, way down. I was 55 years old and kept moaning: "I'll never get another church." And she looked at me as if I had lost my mind. I knew that look--I had seen it often in moments of crisis. But she kept saying (more than once) :"You will get another church. You're good. You will do it again." And that kept me going. 

One dark time she came home with a package. "I have something for you." I pulled the wrapping paper off and it was a large hand-carved angel--pretty heavily endowed to say the least. She said: "I figured that you needed an angel at this time in our lives." We hung it in the kitchen over the sink--and through the years and moves the angel came with us--always hung over the kitchen sink. But, you know--I hope I don't sound too corny but the angel is not just hanging over the sink--but she is everywhere in the house and she has kept things going again and yet again. 

The first book I ever wrote I dedicated it to her: "To Gayle--who has taught me best: the bridge really is love." And over so many bridges of troubled waters she has been there and it has made all the difference. She believed in me and the kids and whatever crazy things might have been happening. In the church we call that faith.

After I retired for the first time (of many) we took a trip to Paris with some friends. We had never been there. And in our room one night, overlooking that wonderful city I asked her: "Did you think we would ever come here?" And that have-you-lost-your-mind look came. "Of course," she said, "I know all along we would someday get here."

Of course it hasn't all been bleak and downers. Not by a long shot. She has made the trip worthwhile. And it has been fun--mostly I think because of her. 

Ands so 58 years later I am a very lucky guy. One night she took that tiny diamond and put it on her hand and said: "Yes." She never prayed in public. She never led the charge in any church we had. She would not make a speech if you put a gun to her head. She despised piousity in any form--especially from her hubby. And rightly so. But she is the best Christian I know. She doesn't talk it. But to use a hackneyed depression: she walks it day after day church after church.

And so I am thankful for all these years. Simon and Garfunkel had a song years ago called: "Still crazy after all these years." And when I heard it first I thought of her...and after everything she still is crazy. Wonderfully crazy after all these years.  

As Loren Eiseley said of his wife of many years: "She has been here through it all. She stayed." And that's my small tribute to a very great lady. My wife--and I'll keep her forever. That is, despite those strange are-you-crazy looks she still will put up with me. If I ever wrote another book the dedication would read:

                                               Gayle.....Gayle.....Gayle

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com