Thirty-seven years ago this month, a kind, wonderfully humorous guy named Jon Ring invited me along on a visit to some friends of his in Keene, NH. (I’ve since come to believe those friends fashioned a little set-up.)
Very shortly afterward, this soulful man began to feel a lot like the person I imagined sharing my life with. My mother, ever the pragmatic soul, encouraged me to tell him so, after I told her.
I drove right back to Exeter that afternoon and did. He survived the shock with admirable grace and a short time later, married we were. That anniversary doesn’t come around for another few months, but it’s at this time of year that I always remember what began unfolding so beautifully in my life in those days.
Here he is in Keene, again in pumpkin season, in a more recent decade. I think that some days, living with me may feel something like living with that face the pumpkin is wearing. Way back in that autumn of ’78, I don’t think I yet possessed the capacity to imagine just how thankful I’d be today for his willingness to share the adventure of this life with me. Or perhaps my soul did see it coming, did see it all, right from the start.
It’s the second sweetest thing that ever happened to me. The first is how much we both love what is of God
Year by year, life together brings home the truth of that vow we uttered on the night that united our lives:
“We will all verily abide by the Will of God.”