I, take you, Vicki/Rick, to be my wedded wife/husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.
We recited those vows 49 years ago today, on a sweltering, late-summer California evening in a small church a few miles east of Sacramento. The “sickness and health” portion of those vows seemed so foreign at the time. We were young, vibrant and carefree.
Decades later, those words hit home. In February, I was diagnosed with kidney cancer. While the surgery in May was a success – no cancer was found in nearby organs or in the margins – complications ensued. I had an infection, followed by several weeks of procedures designed to speed up the healing process in my leaking, surgically-repaired right kidney. It was hard. It was often painful. It was tiresome.
But the girl I married never wavered. If you know anything about Vicki, once she commits to something, she’s “all in.” That meant long days at the UW Hospital when I was admitted there. That meant multiple trips with me to the hospital for tests and follow-up procedures. That meant changing bandages at two different drain sites on a daily basis. That meant missing out on social events because she’d rather be at my side. Thankfully, I’ve come out the other side of this ordeal.
Of course, I was not surprised that Vicki would respond this way. I’ve known her devotion, her unwavering commitment and her tenacity for a very long time. It’s who she is.
I met Vicki in 1975. We were students at North Park College in Chicago. I was in charge of a school Valentine’s Day dance. I needed a date. Vicki and I had worked in the school cafeteria together, so we knew each other. I asked her to the dance. She said “yes.” We had a good time.
A couple weeks later was “Turnabout” on campus. “Turnabout,” at least back in the ’70s, was when normal social roles were flipped, and girls asked the guys out. Vicki took me out to dinner at a nice restaurant in downtown Chicago. We started dating.
I have to admit I was a little surprised by these developments. Vicki was absolutely gorgeous. She could have dated anyone she wanted on campus. I believe I had “outkicked my coverage.” (For those of you who have never heard that term, google it). As it turned out, the affection was mutual. It was obvious early on that there was immediately “chemistry” between us, i.e. a physical attraction.
I was a sophomore. She was a freshman.The problem was, I wouldn’t be returning to North Park for my junior year. I had already made up my mind I was transferring to Western Washington University. To be honest, when she returned to California and I to Washington at the end of the ’74-’75 school year, I thought that was the end of the relationship. Boy was I wrong.
During that year of separation, I learned a lot about Vicki. She was also beautiful on the inside. She was loyal. She was committed. Our relationship during that year actually grew deeper. During the few occasions we got together, we learned we shared the same values.
We both wanted to become people molded in the likeness of Jesus. We both wanted to use our gifts, not for ourselves, but to serve others and the “Body of Christ,” i.e. the Church, and bring glory to His name. We shared a Puritan work ethic that had been instilled in us by our parents, a cultural and spiritual belief that hard work, frugality and discipline are core moral duties. As husband and wife, we wanted to be a “team,” where we shared daily responsibilities and made major life and financial decisions together with mutual respect. We would learn later that we were different in many ways, but that each of us had strengths and weaknesses that complimented each other. I married a sinner. She married a bigger one. Each of us were “works in progress.” We gave each other grace.
Early in our marriage, our desire was to one day raise a family, We did not want to be “helicopter parents” who overprotect and excessively micromanage our children’s lives. We did not want to spoil them. We wanted to love them. Sometimes that meant being firm and setting boundaries so they would become responsible adults. And yes, we made our share of mistakes. We wanted to model for our children what a healthy marriage looked like, so they in turn would choose their mates wisely, commit fully to their spouse and not bail when the going got rough.
The going got rough these past six months. But the girl I fell in love with so many years ago never blinked. Always committed. Always a steadfast partner through all of life’s changes.
Here’s to Year 50, my love. It’s going to be a good one.
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