“My wish for you is that you will come to a time when you’ve raised the kids, paid the bills, and have become best of friends.” I often said that to couples as we wrapped up pre-wedding sessions. “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him” (Genesis 2:18).
Yesterday, at the end of the afternoon, Diane and I were reminiscing about several events back in Venedy. Venedy was where we spent the first seven years of our marriage and ministry, a wonderful place we still hold dear. Back then, we were starting a family, living on the best salary the congregation could do, and still learning about each other. After Venedy, the kids grew in both years and cost, the workload became heavier, and we didn’t have as much time to sit relaxed and talk. There are seasons to life.
“Being in love is a good thing, but it is not the best thing. You cannot make it the basis of a whole life…. But of course, ceasing to be ‘in love’ need not mean ceasing to love. Love in this second sense—love as distinct from ‘being in love’ is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit; reinforced by the grace which both parents ask, and receive, from God. They can have this love for each other even at those moments when they do not like each other; as you love yourself even when you do not like yourself. ‘Being in love’ first moved them to promise fidelity: this quieter love enables them to keep the promise. It is on this love that the engine of marriage is run; being in love was the explosion that started it.” (From Mere Christianity, quoted in For All the Saints I, 271f.)
Courtesy of our daughters, we have an app that tells them where we are and vice versa. They’re most often at work, but the app usually says Diane and Dale are at home. Maybe we’re sitting together chuckling over old Earl and Opal in the comic strip “Pickles.” For everyone, there is a season.