Today I saw “for better or worse” in action. She’s in the hospital with an infection. She has Alzheimer’s Disease. She doesn’t really recognize me. But she knows him. And he knows what it means to say “for better or worse.”

Long ago they both said:

For better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death parts us, and I pledge you my faithfulness.

We’ve all heard that spoken at weddings, but it’s hard to really know what it might mean until something actually happens in a marriage:

• A bankruptcy
• A child with birth defects
• A knock down, drag out argument
• A diagnosis
• An embarrassing blessing of riches
• A child gone astray
• A job that takes one away for long periods of time
• A memory that begins to fail

A promise is made, before God and everyone gathered, that these vows will be kept “until death parts us.” Just a quick glimpse at our world and our society shows that this is all easier said than done. But kudos to those who do it. It takes hard work. It takes commitment.

More than most everything else, it takes forgiveness:

• “I’m sorry for what I said”
• “I’m sorry for what I did”
• “I’m sorry for what I spent”
• “I’m sorry that I didn’t treat you the way I should have”
• “I’m sorry that I’m selfish”
• “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for the kids”
• “I’m sorry that I didn’t love you in the way that you deserve”

But it doesn’t end there. The work isn’t finished or complete until at the very least this is said:

• “I forgive you for what you said”
• “I forgive you for what you did”
• “I forgive you for what you spent”
• “I forgive you for not treating me the way you should have”
• “I forgive you for being selfish”
• “I forgive you for your absence from the kids”
• “I forgive you for failing to love me the way you should have”

Then act like you really mean it.

There’s a book I like to recommend to couples about to get married. It’s just as good for couples who are already married. It’s The Meaning of Marriage: Facing the Complexities of Commitment with the Wisdom of God, by Timothy Keller. It will be a boon for your relationship and a reminder of the things that are most important.

As I left the hospital this morning there were tears in his eyes. He meant what he said when he said, “…for better or worse.” He’s fulfilling his vows in a way that is to be respected and admired. It can’t be easy.

But he’s showing that it can most certainly be done. 

With the help of God.

When have you seen “for better or worse” in action?

Today’s post is a guest post from my friend Jim Riedel. Jim doesn’t have his own blog but, trust me, he’s filled with opinions. Maybe those opinions will one day find their way into a blog of his own. Jim is most literally a Jack-of-all-trades. He’s helped me in more ways than I count. He is a friend of the highest order. He’s also a skilled and qualified real estate agent, amongst other things. If you’re in the Milwaukee, Wisconsin, area and are in need of a home, look up Jim.

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I have a spoon in the kitchen drawer that does not match the set. I will come back to this…

Mother’s day is almost here. A day set aside to appreciate the woman who brought you into this world. Nine months she carried you in her body….and then carried you on her body for even more months (too many factors involved to guess how long that was)… I was a shy little boy so she carried me for many…maybe years (not really). Anyway, nine months is about 270 days. If you gave her appreciation one day a year, she would have to live 270 years to be thanked for each day she “developed” you. But she didn’t stop there in development, did she? It is not the days in her tummy that we remember but the many years after that give us our memories of our Mom.

The spoon might be silver or silver plated, I am not really sure. It is tarnished a little…

I was the last child born of my siblings – 6 of 6. Mom was 35 when I was born. Not young but not old in the range of moms’ ages. Over a period of ten years she carried and gave birth to her children. It left its mark – for one, a scar clear across her entire belly. Back then, a C-section was a major incision, from one side to the other. Since my brother before me was born that way, I had to be too. They didn’t think mothers could carry out a natural birth after having a C-section. Thank God the medical field keeps improving so that doesn’t still happen.

The spoon has a really cool design on it. It is one of the reasons I like it….

I don’t know how women do it. It must be pain beyond what I can understand. I assume the memory of the pain must fade or no woman would have a second child. Not all women experience motherhood…that is, not all women give birth to a child. But even some women without children of their own experience “momhood” – those who care for and raise a child. An adoption makes someone a mom or an unfortunate accident causes an aunt to raise a niece. Sometimes that person may not even be a woman – a widowed father has to play the role of a mom on occasion.

Because of its design, it stands out in the drawer, it is really easy to find it among the other spoons……

My wife, Patty, and I don’t have kids. Circumstances were such that it didn’t happen for us. Sometimes I think that is too bad. Had we had kids, I know they would have had the best Mom I know of. I have seen her with her nieces and nephews as they grew up, or our neighbors’ kids, and sometimes even someone we just met, to see how caring and loving and fun she is with children of all ages. Patty certainly is a mother type; in fact she has hundreds of kids. You see, she has been a teacher since she graduated from college. She also trains kids in leadership skills at camps every summer.

I use the spoon almost every day – it is my tea spoon. Each morning, I have a large glass of green tea and stir the honey into the tea with it. Some days I take it with me to eat a yogurt on the go.

Moms sacrifice a lot for their child. That sacrifice mostly seems to be of her time. The sacrifice takes place when she nurses a newborn or rocks a fussy toddler, reads to a kindergartner, watches a soccer match, helps explain geometry, or looks over college applications. But she also takes the unexpected calls, puts life on hold to help a frustrated college kid, comfort a broken heart, or give advice to a son about a birthday gift for his spouse.

The spoon was probably bought at a flea market or rummage sale…..  

So Thank you Mom. Thanks to all of you moms. Thank you for taking the pain, for your lack of sleep at three in the morning to welcome a scared little kid into your room, for the countless meals you made when you didn’t even know what to cook, for staying up to wrap all the Christmas gifts from Santa, etc., etc, etc.

I have almost lost that spoon on at least one occasion and searched everywhere to find it in my car or truck.

My Mom liked nice things – like jewelry, china dishware, silverware. She bought full sets and individual pieces. She passed away almost 19 years ago. The spoon was a single piece she probably got second hand. Now I have it. And I also have tea with her most every day.

Every mom is a lot like that spoon. She doesn’t match any other yet is like them all, probably has a little wear due to the worry she experiences for her children, she is the coolest design ever, and stands out to her own kids in any crowd…and you never want to lose her.

So maybe you are a mother or maybe a mother type. To all of you out there, know that you make a difference in this world when you love your children and show them love. They will remember you for the little things you did and the big things you did. They will remember when you were really mad at them….”those teenagers”….and when you made them laugh for something you always do that they think is goofy. They will remember you for the love you gave them. There is no more important role in this world than that of “Mom”.

One more thought to emphasize that last point. I actually have many “moms.” My Mom called me her baby. Yes, no matter how old I was she would introduce me that way, and for a while it annoyed this boy to no end. I would say, “I am not a baby!” But I think as a young child, I realized the importance of moms. I realized the importance so much so that throughout my life, I have collected surrogate moms: friends’ moms became mine because I would call them Mom too…and will continue to do so. I guess a shy little boy can never have too many “moms”.

My little girl is getting married. This Friday a lifetime of love and nurture will come to fruition in an institution as old as the world itself. A day that I never imagined would come is just about here.

The house is quiet except for the drone of a Monday Night Football blowout. The bride-to-be has gone to bed, as has her mother. They are both over-tired from the hustle, bustle, and stress of wedding preparations. It’s the calm before the storm. Tomorrow relatives and friends begin to arrive for an event that will take place, God-willing, only once in our daughter’s lifetime.

The Florida summer has eased a bit into what we might call “fall” in these parts. Prayers are ascending that the rain will hold off to give way to a beautiful outdoor wedding reception. The caterer has been booked, and is set to go. The wedding dress has been bought, fitted, and altered. A limousine has been reserved. The photographer and videographer have their marching orders and will provide the evidence that a great time was had by all.

The mother-of-the-bride has bought her dress. In fact, she bought two “just in case.”

The groom has been working two jobs to save up for the honeymoon, as well as the coming first months of marriage. He’s the kind of person any father would want his daughter to marry. He treats her well, understands her, gives her what she needs, and knows how to deal with her occasional “issues.” He’s a great guy. Now he’s off of work until after the honeymoon. He deserves it.

The bride’s brother will be providing part of the entertainment for the reception. That’s what you do if you have a band of Nashville musicians and you love your sister like he does. His perfectionism will no doubt add some stress to the week, but we all love him for it, because we know that the end product will be something people will remember for years to come.

His girlfriend has been showered with so much talent by her Maker, that she is doing more than anyone might ever expect. She designed the “save the dates” and invitations. She conceived of the decorations and put them together. She will be doing the flowers. She might even be heard singing in the wedding service.

Invitations went out long ago. The results are in, and we now have a pretty good idea of those who will be joining us for the wedding and reception. We’ll really miss the people who are unable to attend. We’ll think of them as we raise our glasses. At the same time, we will so much appreciate those who are there to support, encourage, and celebrate.

I bought a new suit, shirt, and tie. I am in the midst of writing a homily that I will share with my friend, and fellow pastor, who has known our daughter since she was two years old. We will stand before the couple and remind them of the most important thing in any marriage: the love and forgiveness of Jesus, given and shared. And I will try not to cry.

It seems like just yesterday that she was two. I remember the stages of crawling, walking, defiantly refusing to take her medicine, learning to read, giggling with friends, auditioning for plays and getting the parts, braces, high school football games and friends…

And the day we dropped her off at college nine hours away from home. It just so happened to be the place she would mature in her faith, live on her own, learn how to be an adult, and find her future husband.

Now she’s getting married this Friday.

Today we ran some errands together. We stopped for lunch. At the table next to us there was another father there with his daughter who must have been about five years old. I almost encouraged him to enjoy the time with his little girl, but he seemed to be doing so just fine. I’m certain, before he knows it, that little girl will be getting married.

We enjoyed our time together, as well, she and I. It was probably that last time we had alone before she is a married woman. We shared our love of food. Then we got a new windshield wiper for her car. Seemingly mundane stuff, but eternally special in the grand scheme of things.

Because she will always be my little girl.

What memories do you have of a special time or event in your life?

Today I was incredibly moved by a video on the blog of one of my heroes, Michael Hyatt (see it here). Like Michael, I was inspired by the words spoken on the video:

You think this is just another day in your life. It’s not just another day. It’s the one day that is given to you today…. It’s the only gift that you have right now. And the only appropriate response is gratefulness.

Gratefulness comes a day at a time. And the video (…you really need to see it…watch it here…) uses incredible images as a background to a (for lack of a better term) essay on observing the world around you and being grateful.

It got me to thinking about being grateful for specific days throughout my life. What if I had to condense my life into twelve slides depicting twelve days for which I am grateful?

Here are twelve slides that I might put into such a presentation:

1. Two Months Old: Lying in a crib surrounded by two loving parents in a Wauwatosa, Wisconsin bungalow.
2. Seven Years Old: Playing football with my friend, Louie, in our Tacoma Street front yard. I’m wearing a Bart Starr jersey.
3. Eleven Years Old: Piling into our new Toyota station wagon with my mom, dad, and two sisters, headed to Florida for a trip to Disney.
4. Sixteen Years Old: Diving into the high school pool as the starting gun goes off for a race in the 100 yard butterfly event.
5. Nineteen Years Old: Sitting in the bus as the lead singer of a band called Joy, Inc., driving through the Rocky Mountains, staring at the one who would one day be my wife.
6. Twenty-One Years Old: Standing on stage at Concordia University, playing “Jesus” in Godspell.
7. Twenty-Two Years Old: Standing at the altar of Trinity Lutheran Church in Peoria, Illinois, marrying the love of my life.
8. Mid-Twenties: A side-by-side slide of two little babies, both of our children, born in St. Louis.
9. Twenty-Eight Years Old: Walking across the outdoor stage, graduating from Concordia Seminary, St. Louis.
10. Early Thirties: Walking with my family on a brisk winter day at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., on one of our many visits while we lived there.
11. Forty-Five Years Old: Sitting in a theatre in Lincoln, Nebraska watching our daughter, Ashlyn, play “Catherine” in Pippin.
12. Forty-Eight Years Old: Sitting in the Curb Event Center at Belmont University in Nashville, Tennessee, watching our son, Ben, play with his band “My Red and Blue” in the Belmont Rock Showcase.

And there are more slides I could have included, like:

• Living in North Carolina
• Worship at Mt. Calvary
• Dinner at a wonderful Milwaukee restaurant with my parents
• Christmas Eve dinner in our home
• Moving to Florida
• Watching our house being built

Yes, there is much for which to be grateful. What a slide show it would make.

What slides would you include?

You may have noticed I haven’t written for a while. We’ve been busy moving into our new house, painting, unpacking, putting furniture together, and generally getting organized. It has been a daunting task.

As I painted the house from top to bottom I kept thinking about the legacy that is a home. We recently left behind a home where we had lived for fifteen years. Our children grew up there. They will always remember significant moments of their lives there. The house was built in 1938 and still stands as a testimony to the families that lived there and the hopes, dreams, and wishes that were realized.

I wonder if the first owners of our previous (1938) house wondered, like I am about this new house, how long it will last.  More than 70 years later that house in an established Milwaukee neighborhood is still standing. A neighborhood around it thrives. It is now a new home for a new family. That house won’t be going anywhere soon.

While I painted every inch I couldn’t help but think about how long this house will stand. What will its walls see and what will its windows view? How many families will live here over the course of its own life? What joys, sorrows, dreams, and discussions will be held around the tables, in the living room, and up in the loft? How many years later will people still be living and loving in this house?

When you build a house you build a legacy. A house is something that often outlives the builder. But the legacy, the hopes, the dreams, the wishes fulfilled never die and never go away.

It’s a reminder of the home we have that will never perish, spoil, fade, or be torn down. The truest and most lasting legacy is the household of faith Jesus left behind when He established the church. There, true hopeful expectation is never disappointed. Dreams of lifeafter life after death come true. Wishes for forgiveness and salvation don’t just blow away with the wind but stand firm on the foundation of faith.

There will be a day when even our new home no longer exists. But there will never be a day when the household of faith, the eternal home built by the blood of Jesus, will ever cease to exist.

That’s a lasting legacy.

When was your house built? What stories would it tell?