Janice and I began our special year in Yosemite National Park. We arrived on New Year’s Day to the wonder of fresh snow falling. For three days we explored the magnificent valley, continually looking up at the towering cliffs and waterfalls, watching the choreography of light, cloud, snow, wind and granite.
On our last afternoon there, we walked out to the Ahwahnee Meadow to watch an incredible orange sunset projected on the face of Half Dome. The Ahwahnee Meadow separates the wonderful Ahwahnee Hotel from a village of wood-framed one-level buildings that house park employees and their families. The homes are modest, but their zip code is one of the most spectacular in the world.
As we walked the edge of the meadow, I noticed one of the homes featured a massive picture window designed to take full advantage of this scene we had traveled 2,500 miles to see. Imagine the joy of Half Dome through your window every sunset!
The drapes were open. I looked inside and saw two guys playing Madden football on X-Box. With the Glory of the Lord taking place behind them, they were focused only on their game.
This is a tendency we all have. It does not matter how wonderful the miracles are all around us, we get used to them and eventually they disappear from our focus. Just the other day Janice asked me if I had seen the day lilies in bloom by our driveway. I had not. I was focused on getting the paper.
New Year’s in Yosemite was the launch of a special year because 2011 marks our 40th wedding anniversary. On July 2, 1971 Janice and I looked into each other’s eyes and made the promises to have and hold till death. To be truthful we had no clue what the depth and height of those promises would mean. We were 18 years old.
On my side of the altar, had no idea of the beauty, complexity and mystery of this young woman who had agreed to be my wife. There were days of exploration and discovery ahead of me, days when I would marvel at the wildness and the grandeur of her, and the fascination of observing something new.
And sadly there were also many days when I took the beauty for granted, overlooked the changing landscape, and focused on man-made, cheap and temporary things. I’ve missed a lot of sunsets in my life with Janice, and I am sorry for it.
We live in a time when marriage is devalued. For many, marriage is no longer essential. It is easy to move on. Long-term commitments are sort of quaint. There are times when Janice and I feel part of an exhibit in the Smithsonian.
Marriage should be like two people marooned on an uninhabited island with no chance of escape. You have no alternative but to explore and scavenge and build out a life. You make a shelter, find a food source, fight off the predators. During the peaceful and restful times, you make babies. You populate your new world with children, experiences, mistakes and memories. You pay attention to everything in this wild, adventurous place because anything could turn out to be important.
While I remember our wedding 40 years ago, I have to confess the details are now sketchy. I remember praying but not the prayers, music but not the melodies. My most indelible memory of our wedding day is the moment after we had left the church and were alone for a few seconds in the back of my buddy Leon’s 64 Chevy. Before Leon got in to chauffeur us away, Janice turned and asked me in a voice flavored with equal parts joy, relief, excitement and fear, “Can you believe we did it?”
We did--40 years ago today. It has been an adventure.
I’m looking forward to tomorrow.
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