At the age of 62, my brother-in-law Bill got married. At the reception, his twin brother toasted the groom and mentioned Bill’s age. Bill’s brand new wife Maria turned to me and said, “What? He’s that old?” We laughed. A great sense of humour can take you far in a marriage.
The two met on an online dating site. Maria typed in: “I love to eat seafood. I want someone who enjoys swimming and diving. I like lots of company and appreciate a man in a black and white tuxedo.” The computer worked on this for about two minutes, then sent her a picture of a penguin. Actually, they met the old fashioned way. His dad gave her dad six goats. Sorry. I’ll be serious. The truth is, both had lost their spouses.
When asked to MC their wedding, a verse kept popping into my mind: Matthew 5:4 (ESV), “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” This is seldom chosen as a theme verse for weddings, but for this one it seemed perfect. Bill’s wife Cynthia died after battling Huntington’s Disease for 25 years. Maria’s husband passed away in a tragic farm accident. Tears were plentiful at their wedding. Laughter was too.
I couldn’t resist pointing out some benefits of getting married when you’re older. Like these. Your spouse snores, but you can’t hear him. The seven-year itch? It’s just shingles. No one asks why you’re not having kids. No arguments about who gets up in the night to take care of the kids. Your children don’t ask for money; they just want it in the will.
I asked Bill on his wedding day, “What do you love about Maria?” “First,” he said, “her love for Jesus. And her love for me. We can laugh and cry together. She is willing to give up her home for me. She loves my kids and grandkids. She loves driving a garden tractor. Isn’t that cool? And she loves to cook.”
Maria told me what she loves about Bill. “What has brought me so close to him is that he prays with me. And whenever I came to his house, he had his Bible lying open on the table. He has his devotions, the same way I do. And we laugh together so much. I love his jokes.” I’ve heard Bill’s jokes. I told him that if he finds a girl who loves his jokes, he had better marry her fast.
For 25 years, Bill modeled how to love someone in sickness and in health, faithfully caring for my wife’s big sister. And frankly, it was almost too much to bear. Bill knows about mourning. He has also buried two of his children, Curtis and Teresa, who passed away from this awful disease. Someone said to Bill, “God is good all the time.” And Bill agreed. But sometimes life hurts beyond any hurt we could have imagined. In the midst of it, Bill stayed true to his family and his God. His life spoke loudly. It said, “Don’t jump from the train when you’re in a tunnel.” Five children paid tribute. There wasn’t a dry eye in the place. “Thanks Dad,” they kept saying. “Thanks Dad.”
Methinks we have the wrong heroes. We need to find some new ones. Like Bill and Maria. Real people who hang in there. Not because they understand their circumstances, but because they have placed their trust in God, whatever those circumstances will be.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”
During late night conversations Bill told me of that comfort. He found it in God’s Word. He found it when nothing made sense and his heart ached. “I will bless the Lord at all times,” he read. “His praise shall continually be in my mouth.” And it was. Praising God in the storm is the key, he claims. And laughter helps too. Bill laughed at my penguin joke, then told me, “It’s gonna be great. At this age, you can’t stay mad when you can’t remember what you’re mad about.”
