The 29th anniversary of our marriage, the second for each of us, will be tomorrow. That's according to our lovely "Animal Babies" calendar from WWF (World Wildlife Fund). According to the liturgical calendar, however, our anniversary is today, the Sunday the Church designates, Feast of Christ in Majesty, aka Christ the King.
When we chose the royal date, I immediately resisted its utterly exclusive masculine kingliness. We negotiated, as we do, with much spatting and grinning. In the end we agreed that Christ was utterly beyond gender, that we certainly couldn't even imagine a feminine option like Christ the Queen, and finally, that we would NOT sing the traditional hymn suggested for that Sunday, the Diademata, aka "Crown Him With Many Crowns."
So today marks the liturgical anniversary of our first whole day of being married—wedded bliss they call it. Such a love remains blissful and vivacious when you let those invigorating spats happen easily—with humor and the diplomacy of true compromise.
Love, as you age in a marriage over years often grows as comfortable and comforting as, yes, a favorite old bathrobe. (His is green. Mine is blue and white, strewn with pink roses.)
This poem kind of says it all.
THE BLUE ROBE
by Wendell Berry
How joyful to be together, alone
as when we first were joined
in our little house by the river
long ago, except that now we know
each other, as we did not then;
and now instead of two stories fumbling
to meet, we belong to one story
that the two, joining, made. And now
we touch each other with the tenderness
of mortals, who know themselves:
how joyful to feel the heart quake
at the sight of a grandmother,
old friend in the morning light,
beautiful in her blue robe!
I love you, old friend. Happy Anniversary.
Showing posts with label Wendell Berry poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wendell Berry poem. Show all posts
Sunday, November 22, 2015
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