Grow Old With Me

There used to be a sign in our bedroom that reads, ‘Grow Old With Me.’

My wife hung it there.

 

She was a beautiful young woman of just 22 years old when we met. On Monday, she will turn 60. In March, I’ll be 62.

 

I guess it happened just like the sign says. We grew old.

 

I sometimes pull out old photos of my wife from those early years. She was so beautiful when I met her.

 

She still is.

 

I don’t know how she did it. I became an old bald troll. She stayed forever young.

 

I guess I never expected to grow old. Call it Peter Pan Syndrome. When you’re young, you expect to be young forever. But despite how much I have resisted, time it marched right along without me.

 

Years passed like a slow conveyor belt. Steadily. Repetitive. Never slowing down.

 

And now, I’m in my 60s. And she will be joining me this week. And I still cant believe it.

 

We grew old. But at least we did it together.

 

I guess when she got a little mileage on her, I could traded my wife in for a new, younger model. I know plenty of guys who have done that.

 

They’re the ones you see on Facebook smiling from the front seat of their ridiculously shiny convertible sports car.

 

They seem happy, but I wonder if that is true.

 

Every time I see one of these guys in his 60s with their convertible sports cars, hair implants and young thing on their arm, I think to myself back to that day in 1987 when I stood up before family, friends and God and pledged that we would be together until ‘death do us part.’

 

A lot of us say those words on our wedding day. Most don’t really mean it?

I did.

 

I didn’t pledge to stay married to her as long as she was young and beautiful. Or if she stopped adoring me like she once did.

 

Neither of those mattered to me. I loved her and was committed to the long haul.

 

And it’s been a long haul.

 

Now, looking back at all of those years, I wonder how they went by so fast.

It seems like only yesterday, we had three little kids running around the house. Now, no one runs around our house.

 

We’re trying real hard not to break a hip.

 

We had a ‘surprise’ birthday party for my wife on Saturday night. We invited her closest friends and family to come help us celebrate.

 

While people were mingling around, we showed a slide show featuring old photos from last sixty years.

 

As I watched it, I tried to find pick a photo that most aptly represents her life.

About twenty photos in, I found it.

 

It was a photo from back when we were youth pastors and took our youth to Mexico on a mission trip.

 

One of the places we worked while there was an orphanage for young children who had been abandoned by their parents. One little girl had been tossed out of a moving car by her parents and in the process of them driving away, they ran over her.

 

The little girl was twisted with two mangled and useless legs.

 

People in that area of the world are very superstitious and they treated the little malformed girl like she had leprosy. She or her parents were paying for some grave sin and that was the reason for her vilification.

 

Most days, she sat in her crib, ignored by the small staff at the orphanage. No one wanted to touch the little cursed girl, in fear that her condition was a sign of grave bad luck.

 

The young girls on our group all grabbed the beautiful little cherubs until all the cribs were empty except one.

 

The little twisted girl with the bent, useless legs was forgotten.

Until my wife showed up.

 

She grabbed the little girl and carried her outside so she could

watch all the other children having fun.

 

The staff frowned. The little girl had been a burden since her arrival. She couldn’t walk. She couldn’t work.

 

She didn’t contribute. To the orphanage. To society.

 

The moment my wife picked her up, the little girl clung to her like she was never letting go.

 

There was good reason. Since the little girl was malformed and considered cursed, no one at the orphanage would touch her. They were afraid that whatever curse had befallen the little girl may actual infest them.

 

My wife didn’t believe in those superstitions and talks of curses. She picked up the little girl and held her for the entire day.

 

The little girl had head lice and a soiled diaper but my wife didn’t care. This little girl desperately longed for someone to show her love and that’s what she got from my wife.

 

I have a photo of the two of them sitting on the steps together. Little children completely surround my wife who is sitting and holding the little crippled girl in her lap.

 

The little girl clung to her like a life raft.

 

The one thing we asked people coming to the birthday party was write a letter telling my wife how much they loved her- and something special they remember of their time together.

 

I didn’t write a letter. That photo of my wife holding the little girl with the twisted limbs was my letter. This was the essence of her life. Helping others.

In fact, looking back at the past 37 years, that has been the purpose of her life.

She is the reason we became foster parents. She is the reason we took in wayward teenagers who had been kicked of their homes.

 

She is the reason that Elevate is so successful every year and she is the one who decides to make it free for all the artists.

 

She has lost money on every Elevate for eight years. Eight years! And yet, she continues to do it.

 

She is the reason scores of needy families and businesses in this area have received a free Christmas tree over the last few years.

 

She has given away thousands of dollars worth of trees and doesn’t think twice about it.

 

When I asked her why she continues to do Elevate and give away so many trees every year when she loses money on both.

 

Her answer was simple. And indisputable.

 

“Because it makes people.”

 

And that has been her answer for the last 37 years that I have known her.

 

Why are you doing this? Because it will make someone’s life easier.

 

I doubt turning 60 will change her. She will keep on helping people have an easier, happier life as long as she can.

 

That’s who she is.

 

She’s older. I’m older. I guess we are finally growing old. Together.

 

I’ve been asked over the years how to have a successful marriage. I never hesitate to respond the same way every time.

 

Find a good woman who loves you- and loves others more than herself.

 

It’s worked for me.