The Vow

Dad loved to sit in the summer sun. Wheelchair bound in his final few years, he would park himself outside Emerald Meadows, the assisted living home where lived until he passed away. If the sun was shining and the temperature was warm, he’d be there for hours on end. Because of his wheelchair, he wouldn’t wander far from the front doors of the facility. He would just sit quietly, watching the world of Emerald Meadows come and go. When I’d visit, I’d have to remind him to change how he folded his hands in his lap to be sure his summer tan was even on each hand. He’d laugh and then proceed to tell me about everyone who had come and gone that day, how many airplanes flew by, what birds he saw, and what projects the maintenance man was up to.

Dad wasn’t the only resident who enjoyed the sunny sidewalk in front of Emerald Meadows. On many occasions I noticed a man who seemed to be in his 60s, pushing a lady in her wheelchair around the parking lot. It was obvious that the lady was a fellow resident, but I surmised the man was not. Dad, all-knowing in regard to the comings and goings of his home, explained that this couple had been married for many years and the husband would come visit his wife almost every day. I asked why she lived there as she looked much younger than most folks at Emerald Meadows. Dad said she lived in the dementia ward because she suffered from a severe case of Alzheimer’s. As I watched this man walk circle after circle in the parking lot with his wife, I felt a deep sadness for them. What was it like for her to be pushed around by someone she may or may not remember that day? What was it like for him to take care of the woman he loved for decades who didn’t always know him, appreciate him, and love him back?

Though I felt sadness for this couple, I never saw any sadness in the spirit of this man. As a matter of fact, I saw much of the opposite. His interactions with her were always pleasant, gentle, patient, and even joy-filled. And he was incredibly faithful. Dad would often remind me how faithful this man was with his visits with his wife. I think this deeply impressed my dad, a very faithful man himself. Dad had been married to my mom for almost 60 years before she passed. But, I think dad saw a whole new level of husband-type faithfulness in this man.

When I brush shoulders with people like this, it makes me wonder what causes them to be able to love so faithfully, unconditionally, and sacrificially. I wonder what would have happened if the pastor who officiated their wedding would have told him at the altar, “Your days together will end with you caring for her in a deeply demented state. She will die and won’t know you.” Would he still choose to marry her? Who knows? But, I’m confident in saying that he must have learned at some point to make some critical conclusions about love. I’m betting he believes love is a decision more than an emotion. Though feelings, attractions, and emotional moments can draw a man and woman together, they ultimately fall short of being true love. How could this man faithfully and joyfully serve his wife while her mind drifts farther and farther away?

As we examine our relationships this week, it would be good to have a clear definition of love in our minds. Eugene’s Petersen’s The Message defines love this way from Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 13.

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.
Love doesn't strut,
Doesn't have a swelled head,
Doesn't force itself on others,
Isn't always "me first,"
Doesn't fly off the handle,
Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn't revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.
Love never dies.
1 Corinthians 13.8-10

This is the love that makes these wedding vows work: “For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.”