21 Years

Rick and I are celebrating 21 years of marriage this week, and I have been struggling to find the perfect anniversary gift. I have been thinking about it so much, that I had a dream about it.

In my dream, Rick says, "I know what I'm getting you for our anniversary."

I say, "Don't tell me.  Just let it be a surprise."

He says, "I think you're going to like it. It's something you can use."

I repeat. "Just don't tell me, OK."

Let me interrupt with a little background here . . . Rick is terrible at surprises--mostly because he can't contain a good idea, but also because he must test the waters. When a gift-giving event is coming up, he will bring the gift up over and over again in conversation or by tossing little hints until I figure it out.  When I figure it out, I have a few options. If I like the gift, I can either pretend I don't know and act super surprised and delighted on gift-giving day, or I can squelch his hint-dropping immediately to tell him I can't wait to get that super thoughtful gift. If I find out he has gotten me something I don't like, I begin my own hint-dropping or gently ask about return options.

So, in my dream, Rick is persistent with unwanted clues.  "What I got you is pretty versatile, and you'll be able to use it in a lot of different ways."

I roll my eyes and say, "It better not be a gift card because gift cards are a copout. When somebody gives a gift card, either they don't know you well enough to get you something thoughtful, or they don't want to put in the time or effort to get a good gift."

Rick's face fell and he said, "Oh, well, don't worry--it's not a gift card."  And he pulled out his wallet to check if he kept the receipt.

The funny thing about this dream is, in reality, I was the one who purchased the gift card for him. I knew it was something he would like, but my doubt about whether it was the right gift crept into my dreams.

I woke up with the words "Gift cards are a copout," ringing in my mind, but still none of my ideas seemed quite right.

What could I give him to tell him how happy I am that he chose to marry me all those years ago? What gift would show my gratitude for all the small ways he loves me--like taking a second trip downstairs at 10:30 p.m. to get me the right allergy medicine with a tall glass of ice water? How could a gift express how much I appreciate the ways we work together as a team to raise our children--all those sleepless nights, discussions, prayers, chaos-filled moments, messes, sicknesses, and more? How could I let him know that I love him more than ever?

No gift could symbolize all that. You know those jewelry commercials with the peaceful classical music and the smiling fashionable lady receiving a beautiful anniversary ring from her handsome husband wearing an elegant suit? They gaze at each other all lovey-dovey and smile with their shining white teeth as they embrace and remember all their years together. Those commercials that make you want to puke and cry at the same time? I want to think of a gift like that. I mean, I don't want Rick to puke or anything, but I want the perfection of feeling to be there.

But still, nothing comes to mind. You can't put 21 years of partnership, love, adventure, learning, smiles, and laughs into a gift.

But maybe I could write about a few things? Maybe I could share some of the ways I have been most grateful for our marriage and, most especially, him as a person. It's still a daunting task, but I'll try--even as the kids experience their first days out of school and they're already bothering me every few minutes to get them something, feed them something, give them ideas of something to do with all their free time which is blossoming into hours of boredom for them and work for me right before our eyes.

I love the quote from Gordon B. Hinckley that says, "True love is not so much a matter of romance as it is a matter of anxious concern for the well-being of one's companion."

One one of our anniversaries--maybe fifteenth? I had that quote imprinted on a silver card for Rick to keep in his wallet.

Don't misunderstand the quote--romance is important, but don't you think the most romantic acts of love are those that are completely focused on the other person?

Rick and I are just normal people with all the faults, insecurities, and doubts that everybody else battles, but we are both committed to being a little better every day--more Christ-like and more focused on helping each other. We both mess up sometimes, but we are committed to forgive and keep trying.

I think that's what a good marriage is all about and that's why I can say after 21 years we have a great marriage. You might diss the cliche', but I'm going to say it anyway--We work at our marriage, and that's why our marriage works.

On our anniversary, my Mom texted, "Happy anniversary to a great couple!  Life is rarely fair and never simple, but I have been impressed with your partnership through the years. You work together well--climbing both life's mountains and negotiating through its low lying swamps. I am glad you found each other.  Best wishes today and as you journey onward." Love, Mom G

I loved her anniversary wishes because I thought, "She gets it!!"

There is a tendency for some to see a happily married couple and say, "Look at them!  They have it easy." They might think their own marriage would be happier if they had more or fewer kids, more money, better jobs, more vacation time together, or less medical problems. But when I see a happily married couple, I think they have probably been through some difficult things together and have learned how to love each other when everything around them seems to be falling apart. They have learned to put each other first.

When I first sat down to write this, my mind was swirling with memories I could share to illustrate why I am so happy to be married to this man. I remembered some of our great Friday night dates, hiking or looking at the stars. I remembered dancing in the moonlight, holding hands, winking at each other across the room, giggling at inside jokes, and many great goodbye and hello kisses. But I also remembered disagreements, disappointments, miscommunications, hurt feelings, and misunderstandings. I remembered feeling not-quite-right with years of pregnancy, miscarriage, and postpartum hormones and how Rick would let me cry or sleep or make me a treat or rub my back. I remembered many, many, many phone calls to coordinate how we would get kids here or there. I remembered hospitalizations of me, him, and our children and how we balanced care for each other, our ailing child, and our healthy children. I remembered discussions about financial goals, family meetings, and praying together. There's just so much!! I couldn't narrow it down to just a few stories.

All of the memories--good and not-so-good left me feeling incredibly grateful to have this man in my life who cares for me and for our children so deeply. Here is a man who sacrifices personal time, sleep, sports, or fancy vacations to support his family, teach his children, and serve anybody he knows he can help. Here is a guy who just wants to be the best husband and father he can be.

So, my anniversary gift to Rick this year is a dumb gift card, AND this: I love you, Rick. I love you forever. Thank you for not only being the guy who swept me off my feet more than 21 years ago but that you continue to be my knight in shining armor, my prince, my true love.

(OK, y'all can gag now. I didn't write it for you, anyway.)