Every Sunday evening after church, about eight to twelve of the congregation members pile up in cars and drive to the Dairy Queen in Anson. Despite the Super Bowl being on, tonight was no different from any other night, except that we got the whole DQ to ourselves.
On nights like tonight when we have a fairly big crowd, the women pile in one vehicle while the men go in another. This has become a time when I have gotten to observe these women the most and communicate with them more openly than we do in church pews before service starts. I love hearing them talk about their past lives and their plans for the week and how adorable their great-granddaughter was when family came to visit over the weekend. But the part that interests me the most at this point in my life is when they talk about their husbands.
They have all been with their men for more years than I've been alive, and the glimpses I see of their marriages are simultaneously inspiring and exciting and terrifying. For example, Ann, who is nearly blind, talked a few weeks ago about what a hard time she and Mac are having finding the right shades of make-up for her. As she is going blind, her old trusty brands are changing shade names, so they are going through the trials and errors of shades that wash her out or leave dark lines. In some ways, I just want to say "how cute" and think of me and BJ growing old together, but that would be overlooking the profundity of what I am guessing if frustration on Mac's part as he tries to understand the labels on the mysterious products his gorgeous wife has effortlessly used for so many years.
Tonight, there was another one of these humbling moments. Ada's husband mysteriously became ill right about the time BJ and I first started going to Nugent. They are just now figuring out was is wrong and finding a few ways to relieve his pain. The women in the vehicle were discussing whether Medicare would pay for one of the treatments he is receiving this week, and Ada, who is about sixty-five with health issues of her own, said with her teeth practically gritting together, "If I have to go digging ditches, he will get that treatment." And she would.
I've heard a lot about the honeymoon stage which apparently BJ and I are experiencing, and how it's the happiest time of your life and so on. And I love this time, as one can tell by the numerous sappy posts I have written about the surprise I constantly experience as I see how much love grows daily within this covenant. But tonight left me speechless. I love BJ a lot tonight, but it is impossible for me to even grasp the depth to which this love will grow after fifty years of good memories, bad memories, funny moment, stretches of boredom, and all the other complexities of marriage. All I know is that when this body of mine starts getting tired and frayed, and the random gray hair I now have has taken over the rest of my head, I hope I am willing to take up a shovel and dig a ditch for BJ. I'm pretty sure I will.
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