I wrote yesterday about letting Nancy know about leaving a job after I had decided.

The first time I told Nancy what I had decided was in 1982. We were out on a walk, as friends, a couple months before I was heading to Texas to start doctoral studies. I said that I thought we should get married.

We had our first official date a week or so later.

We were engaged a month after our walk.

We got married March 12, 1983.

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A few weeks ago, I thought it would be interesting to think about what happened in each decade of our lives together.

In the first decade, we moved to Texas. We moved to Fort Wayne. We had three children. We buried one of them. We each had a few jobs. We bought our first house. A brother-in-law died suddenly. We changed churches and denominations. I wrote my dissertation. Nancy built a garden and worked and walked. When the college where I worked merged with another school, I took a job in another town in Indiana. So, we sold our first home, bought our second, and Nancy packed everything with a 1-year-old and a 5-year-old.

It was an eventful decade.

I think we’re still tired.

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I set aside my memory project.

But I didn’t set aside the memories I have of Nancy at all those points.

Of her courage and her sharing it with me. Of teaching each other. Of laughing. Of crying. Of recalibrating.

Forty years of marriage sounds older than we feel most of the time. And we’re grateful for each other. And for God’s peace and patience.

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