The Violent Munkee

January 20th 2001

Today is the fifth anniversary of Sara and I. We were married the day before the fourth anniversary of our meeting. As I am sure many of you can relate to, the nine years that we have known each other have gone by all too quickly, just a blur of emotions.

It is hard for me to conceive that nine years ago this wonderful woman was a stranger, and now today I know her and she knows me as no one ever has. In this time we have sipped many cups of coffee and tea together; we have basked in the light of the sun and cozied up in the cold; we have tasted the sweetest of wines and grown drunk on the bitterest of tears; on the days of negative checking account balances, our love never felt richer; on summer days our sad and poorly running Volvo gave us more joy with the windows down, smoking cloves and listening to Edie Brickell than really was reasonable to expect; we have trekked across Europe, prayed in massive and ancient churches, and marched up the Seine sing we have camped on coastal bluffs surrounded by elk herds, in high mountains with bears seeking our food, and solitary deserts with solitary big horned sheep; as the years have gone on we have spent days with dying friends and the mothers, wives, and children they have left behind; grandparents have died; we have seen friends marry and some divorce; Sara is the only woman who has seen all of my sweet dance moves (and she was only slightly embarrassed); together we chased each other through the doors of the Church and together found within Her all the fullness of Christ; and finally the day came that we brought life into the world, the day tears of deepest joy flowed in our home; we change diapers together; and regulate on unwieldy two-year olds together; we stay up way past our bedtime enjoying the rareness of a quiet house and the peaceful company; we critique roasts of origins and blends together; we delight in freshly brewed beer; we walk to Starbucks; we have breakfast at Arthur's; we hike in "our" hills; we dream of fine meats during Lent and steal each other's books from the night stand; we bless God as we shhhh squirmy two year olds and bounce cranky infants; we walk together quietly to the chalice of life; we say sorry for snapping at each other; and feel bad for our pettiness; we give thanks; and this litany could go on like a great prayer of thanksgiving for all the mercy we have known.

We will be in our 70's on our 50th year of marriage and I pray we may still know such joy as we have been blessed with all along.