Twenty Moments of Gratitude Sun, 15th September, 2013
And so it has come to pass that this week, Sept. 18, marks my 20th wedding anniversary. That human love and relationship can endure multiple decades in this chaotic world inspires in me a sense of awe and wonder. W. Somerset Maugham said it best: "We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person."
In honor of this occasion, I offer 20 moments from the life Betsy and I have shared, for which I'm profoundly grateful.
Gratitudes...
For your quiet grace as you bore the indignity of me forgetting your name on our first date.
For the delicate lines of your neck that drew me into our first kiss.
For the excitement in the crisp, winter air as we witnessed the inauguration of a new president.
For the quiet joy of our first Christmas together, spent with canine friends.
For the way you looked that day in your elegant wedding dress, standing on that staircase that had married so many Custises.
For the look of contented love on our faces as we walked among the sheep and dry stone fences in Wales.
For the straw hat you wore that sunny morning in Sissinghurst Castle Garden.
For the pride you felt as you introduced me to your home town of St. Louis, home of Chouteaus, Gratiots, Gieblers and Grimms.
For the time I comforted you in my arms after the loss of our first baby.
For the Christmas of great expectation when you were ready to deliver a son, but the son was not yet ready.
For crisp and colorful autumn days taking turns behind the baby stroller.
For the thrill of joy we both felt when the ultrasound technician said "it looks like a little gal."
For your joy in reading to our children.
For my joy in having you read to me, poetry and Taoist meditations.
For your love of Goethe, Rilke and all things German.
For your loathing of Volvos. And raspberries.
For your vision of spring green paint for the living room and dining room of our new house.
For your assertive, loving presence with squabbling children on Friday family dinner night.
For the moments spent in quiet conversation on the living room couch in morning light, and my realization just now that it's a love seat.
And, most of all, as we turn toward the next leg in our journey together in this life, for the beautiful moments yet unborn.
And so it has come to pass that this week, Sept. 18, marks my 20th wedding anniversary. That human love and relationship can endure multiple decades in this chaotic world inspires in me a sense of awe and wonder. W. Somerset Maugham said it best: "We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person."
In honor of this occasion, I offer 20 moments from the life Betsy and I have shared, for which I'm profoundly grateful.
Gratitudes...
For your quiet grace as you bore the indignity of me forgetting your name on our first date.
For the delicate lines of your neck that drew me into our first kiss.
For the excitement in the crisp, winter air as we witnessed the inauguration of a new president.
For the quiet joy of our first Christmas together, spent with canine friends.
For the way you looked that day in your elegant wedding dress, standing on that staircase that had married so many Custises.
For the look of contented love on our faces as we walked among the sheep and dry stone fences in Wales.
For the straw hat you wore that sunny morning in Sissinghurst Castle Garden.
For the pride you felt as you introduced me to your home town of St. Louis, home of Chouteaus, Gratiots, Gieblers and Grimms.
For the time I comforted you in my arms after the loss of our first baby.
For the Christmas of great expectation when you were ready to deliver a son, but the son was not yet ready.
For crisp and colorful autumn days taking turns behind the baby stroller.
For the thrill of joy we both felt when the ultrasound technician said "it looks like a little gal."
For your joy in reading to our children.
For my joy in having you read to me, poetry and Taoist meditations.
For your love of Goethe, Rilke and all things German.
For your loathing of Volvos. And raspberries.
For your vision of spring green paint for the living room and dining room of our new house.
For your assertive, loving presence with squabbling children on Friday family dinner night.
For the moments spent in quiet conversation on the living room couch in morning light, and my realization just now that it's a love seat.
And, most of all, as we turn toward the next leg in our journey together in this life, for the beautiful moments yet unborn.
