Katie, Colton, Conner & Jeff

Katie, Colton, Conner & Jeff
My soul mate, Jeff, and Katie, Colton and Conner, the three gifts from God that call me "Mom"

Friday, June 8, 2012

Tribute to Marriage

Anyone who has a spouse knows it requires a full time commitment.  Some days it's 50/50.  Other days it 80/20.  Some days it feels like it 100% to nothing!  And WE are the partner giving that 100%!  Been there.  Done that.  Got the T-Shirt!

As Jeff and I approach our 27th anniversary in a few days, I am reminded of the many peaks and valleys we have had during our journey.  Fortunately, time serves to heal those valley wanderings, and the peaks are much more memorable.  But did you ever think, the mountains would not be so beautiful if it were not for the valleys below? 

In one of my previous blog posts, "Walking Her Home," I introduced you to Dennis and Terre Conner.  Dennis and Terre have been two of the most influential people in my life, as well as to countless others.  Terre has been enjoying her reward in heaven for almost two years; however, her legacy lives on.

Yesterday, Dennis posted these words on facebook, and I wanted to share them with you.  Nothing I could write would be any more fitting a tribute to the institution that God ordained--marriage between a husband and wife.

From Dennis' facebook:
Today, 37 years ago, Terre and I were married. The note below is from the Carepages blog I kept during her illness and the year after her passing. I posted it here a year ago and wanted to share it with you once more on this occasion. As then, my hope once again is that it encourages someone today. I was blessed and honored to be loved by Terre, and now I am thankful to the Father who is able to turn our sorrow into joy and our mourning into dancing as He has allowed me the honor to begin another new painting with Sherie.


"We were both 20 years old, almost too young and surely too naive to understand what we were getting ourselves into! What lay before us was an empty canvas waiting to be filled with the colors and brush strokes that would eventually take the form of a work of art called our marriage.


Early on, for various reasons, we were painting on different parts of the canvas from one another, painting separate lines and forms that seldom intersected. But then, over time as God unleashed the creative powers of his grace in our lives, the colors became brighter and more complementary, and the separate forms began to blend into a shared understanding of what the image on the canvas should look like; two were becoming one.


The colors that were splashed onto the canvas were sometimes bright, other times more subdued if not gray or black. The brush strokes were at times frenzied and without focus while at other times smooth and confident. What emerged was a deeply textured painting that in the end bore witness to two hands painting together with a single brush.


That’s one way of thinking of a marriage…it’s a work of art. In the best marriages no one says, “There, the painting is done” until the last breath of the artist(s) is drawn. To pronounce a painting done before then is to settle for mediocrity.


I was reminded of that while Terre and I were on vacation in the mountains those final days before her death. Weeks earlier the hospice nurse had explained to the family that when someone young like Terre is dying, there is a sense of urgency to take care of unfinished business. We definitely saw that in Terre as in the final weeks she made all kinds of lists of things to be done and projects to be finished. We all understood that and made every effort to help her finish anything that was important to her.


As we packed to leave for vacation there were some things that Terre wanted to take along, but there simply wasn’t enough room. So, I persuaded her to leave them behind. We drove to Rockford for my birthday and then to our destination in the mountains and proceeded to share our last days together. We arrived in the mountains on Sunday evening. By Tuesday evening, I think it was, Terre was clearly agitated about something. As we lay in bed that night it all came out. As we talked she wanted to know why I wouldn’t let her bring the other things she wanted to bring. I told her that I didn’t want her to tire herself out by working on things and then I reminded her, as I had done before, that there simply wasn’t room in the car. She disagreed and an unheated but emotional argument ensued with Terre insisting that there was room in the car and me insisting that there wasn’t. Finally, she said, “There could have been room. You just did a lousy job packing” (the irony is that it was actually one of the best packing jobs I had ever done, after many years of learning from Terre). Her words stung me and I rolled over, my back to her, saying nothing more before drifting off to an unsettled sleep.


The next morning, as I gave Terre her pain meds, she asked me, “Are you still mad at me?” I assured that I wasn’t mad, only tired. I’m not altogether sure that I was entirely truthful. I did share, though, that her criticism had stung and hurt me. She was not at all defensive or self-justifying and with tears in her eyes said, “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so sorry.” I held her and kissed her and then she said, “I guess marriage is a work of art up until the very end.” I will never forget those words.


The problem with many marriages is that one or both partners stop painting before the very end arrives. They settle for what is—they stop collaborating—which can eventually lead to a ripping apart of the canvas itself. On the occasion of our final argument Terre added the brush stroke of a heartfelt apology. But I, too, needed to apologize. Terre went on to explain to me that those things we left behind represented some of the last unfinished projects she wanted to complete—polishing some glass like stones from Israel, polishing her jewelry and getting it ready to give to her loved ones. I apologized to her for my insensitivity and made arrangements later to get the things to her that she wanted. When those things arrived, her feeble hands came alive and she was happy! And we continued to paint together yet a little more.


So, regardless of where you are on the canvas of your marriage, just remember: marriage is a work of art up to the very end."

WOW!!  So if you have a spouse, keep these words in your heart today . . . tomorrow . . .  next week . . . next year . . . always.  Marriage IS truly a work of art created by the master artist Himself!