Posts Tagged ‘marriage’

5 Tips on Marriage from Someone Who Really Doesn’t Know

64 years and 13 days.

As our anniversary month nears a close, I think of many things I would have liked to have shared. Oh, well, maybe next year! Or maybe this Thursday.

I don't usually talk about tips because I firmly believe that each new day in a marriage is an adventure with the possibility to be totally amazing and the possibility of falling off a cliff with a steep climb back. (The steep climb back is only feasible if the fall has not been fatal.)

"Amazing" or "devastating" depend somewhat on the affect of the two persons involved on a given day and somewhat on events that unfold and somewhat on events that occurred years ago that tend to pop up at the most inopportune moments. (People talk about leaving past altercations in the past. Good for them.)

And I don't give advice because, even after 64 years, no one is an expert on marriage.

Anyway, if these help, I'm happy.

  • Create a post-parenthood marriage. It will be different from pre-parenthood and vastly different from the years you were bearing and raising children.
  • Remember no partner in a marriage is ever 100% right.
  • Make a commitment to life-long sexual connection. You'll be glad you did.
  • Reinvent your lives as necessary.
  • Realize that your shared history becomes more precious as each year goes by.

 

I'd like to hear your tips. 

And remember the special offer stands through September 30. Copies of This Path We Share for only $10 plus FREE shipping. Click on "Order Direct Add to Cart." Any questions, 303.781.8974. Money back guarantee.

 

Married in September (4)

(continued)

Somehow Mother, an excellent seamstress, managed to fix that huge hole in the maid of honor dress. She tore apart the skirt, unruffled some ruffles, stretched the material a bit, and stitched it all back up. No one could notice.

Today is the 64th anniversary of the day before the wedding. Les and I went to the church to meet with our pastor and receive a bit of marriage counseling. I think he said something about praying every day and making sure that Les managed the money. Actually, how much counseling can be done the day before the wedding? We couldn't even concentrate. 

And, as far as we were concerned, we didn't need to be advised. We had it all figured out. Riiight.

As Les dropped me off at my home, he whispered, "I'll see you at the weddding." Then he kissed me, and disappeared into the mist.

He'll see me tomorrow, I thought. I'm marrying him tomorrow.

If it had been now, rather than then, I think I might have added, OMG!

I packed that evening, well aware that it was my last night in my little room. Mother and Dad came down to say evening prayers with me and we all cried.

To be continued….

(And don't forget there is going to be a surprise.)

 

Married in September (3)

(continued)

Because my maid of honor had no more money than I did, I had borrowed a pale green bridesmaid's dress from another friend. (Les and I each had only one attendant, except for those two cute little candlelighters.)

And today is the 64th anniversary of the day that my mother, while pressing said dress, burned a hole the size of the iron right in front. The same day that a carful of unexpected company arrived from South Dakota. The same day I hemmed my wedding dress. All this two days before the wedding. Yikes.

And I commented in my diary:

The rehearsal went off well. It will probably be a beautiful wedding. I feel so detached and unconcerned. It is as if I were overseeing someone else's wedding – not mine.

I think I must have been in shock. 

More to come…

 

The First Time I Saw You

I am really excited this morning. Today it is 65 years since my first "date" with Les.

I had met him over six months earlier at a Thanksgiving dinner with friends. Les, recently discharged from the US Navy, home from WWII, was staying with them, looking for work.

After dinner, Les–blue eyes sparkling, crisp white dress shirt open at the collar, unusually tan for November–pushed away from the table and leaned back in his chair. He clasped his heads behind his head and stretched his long legs. 

"That was a great dinner," he said. They were the first and only words he spoke.

A long drawn-out-ooh feeling took hold somewhere in my gut.

I wonder how it would feel to have those strong arms wrapped around me. Whoa, girl. We just met.

When I was eleven, my mother had sat on the edge of my bed one evening, uncomfortable and embarrassed. Even veiled in the birds and bees jargon of the early 1940s, she was dispensing some pretty amazing information. I do not recall most of what she said, but I plainly remembered, "Never let a man touch you." Why in the world would I want a man to touch me?

Well, now I knew. But Les was twenty-four and I was just sixteen, so I tried to forget about those arms.

Then almost seven months later, on June 12, 1947, Les took me home from a party at church. We had never had a conversation and even then I don't remember anything we said that first time we were alone. When I turned to thank him for the ride and get out of the car, he smiled his beautiful smile, pulled me close, and quietly rested his head on my bosom. We sat in silence a long time before I finally ran into the house. Somehow I felt safe. Did I sense his strength, his steadfastness?

(Excerpted from This Path We Share: Reflecting on 60 Years of Marriage, ©) 2010 Lois Tschetter Hjelmstad)

Now, here it is, 65 years later. I was right: He has been steadfast and strong all these years. Did I actually know that when I was 16 or have I just been incredibly lucky? No matter which, I am exceedingly grateful. Now, we must go to McDonald's for lunch and celebrate!

 

 

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