August 24, 2017, by Todd Neva
Our vows were to the extremes – in sickness and in health.
For the first seven years, we were tested by the typical marriage issues. Communication. Intimacy. Money. Distractions. Lack of appreciation.
Much of the marriage advice worked. Hug daily. Never let the sun set on your anger. Pray together. Set boundaries. Date (each other). Affirm each other.
The wisest words were spoken fourteen years ago yesterday by an old man married 50 years — “All you need to say is, ‘Yes, dear.'”
I asked Kristin if there was anything she wanted to do that she would regret not doing.
“I want to live in the inner-city and minister to the kids there,” she told me.
That was my big “yes, dear.” I sold my plush condo on the east side of Milwaukee and we purchased a house in the hood.
We got to know some kids, but our biggest impact was to our next door neighbor Bob. He was a ragamuffin whom God loved, and we got to be with him when he died.
We closed that chapter of life, then moved to Racine where we had our kids.
A good job. A minivan. A beautiful bungalow.
Then in June 2010, I was diagnosed with a terminal disease. We held to our vows of “in sickness” as I got my affairs in order to prepare Kristin for widowhood.
But the 2-to-3-year prognosis has now turned to 7 years of disability.
And what issues do we deal with now?
Communication. Intimacy. Time management. Money. Distractions. Lack of appreciation.
Marriage is marriage, folks.
Disease is hard on marriages. Any tragedy is hard on marriages. Divorce rates rise after a death of a child. It pains me to see spouses collapse under the burden of caregiving.
I don’t know how Kristin keeps going, but she does.
I can’t hug her, and intimacy is understandably difficult, but we communicate. We pray daily. We talk through issues. We date — sometimes for just twenty minutes watching a show after the kids go to bed. I affirm her.
And I still try to say, “Yes, dear.”
Early in our marriage, Kristin talked about writing a book. She’d observed that most good books were written by people who were at least in their 40s, probably because they had something to say by then.
She wasn’t quite 40, but caring for a husband with a terminal disease seasoned her, so she had a vision for Heavy.
We wrote it so others who are suffering wouldn’t feel alone.
And then she took on the next big challenge — writing fiction. I love that, because there’s often more truth in fiction. We got to explore themes in Snow Country and Copper Country that we wouldn’t otherwise have touched.
And a week ago she asked me to write this anniversary blog, as she’s written the last couple.
But truth be told, this date snuck up on me, in spite of me sitting around all day. She had to remind me of the blog yesterday. I’ve been distracted by some other projects and Netflix.
Our marriage is tested by the typical issues.
I ordered her flowers this morning, and “yes, dear,” here is your blog.
Happy anniversary, buttercup!
