My parents, Richard and Susan Reinhart, on their wedding day—1962
Who could have known you would play a pivotal role in an almost 60-year love affair that’s produced 6 children, 6 sons or daughters-in-law, and 13 grandchildren. Goodness, if you hadn’t been at the party that night, I wouldn’t even be here to tell this story…
It was the spring of 1961. Think Mad Men. Dark, single-breasted suit jackets with narrow notch lapels. Crisp white dress shirts, dark ties, and matching slim pants, complete with wingtip dress shoes.
It was the launch of a new season for Jantzen Sportswear. An iconic clothing and swimwear company and Jantzen spared no expense. As all the salespeople were men, who else would they invite to a new clothing launch at the then renowned Heer’s department store in Springfield, Missouri? None other than the lovely, Miss Missouri.
Fresh out of the Air Force, my dad was eager to start his career as a newly minted Jantzen sales rep—he also was keen on ‘meeting special someone’ who would eventually share his life. Walking into the pre-launch party that evening, my dad had every intention of meeting Miss Missouri.
The icon Jantzen “Diving Girl”
He spotted her across the room and nonchalantly worked his way in her direction. Looking very Sophia Loren meets Annette Funicello…dark hair, captivatingly-sexy brown eyes, and a figure any woman of the day would envy–my dad made his approach. Minutes into their small talk, he realized this “gorgeous woman” was one of Jantzen’s few female marketing representatives at the time. At that moment, he no longer cared if Miss Missouri was even in attendance.
Little did he know he would travel all the way from Furstenfeldbruck Air Force base in Germany to Missouri via Oregon only to meet a beautiful woman who had grown up down the street from him in Portland.
There was just one little problem…she had an engagement ring on her finger.
As dad has often recounted, “She wasn’t married yet.”
So he asked my mother for dinner the next evening…and she accepted. (Which was a little scandalous if I do say so myself.) They both recall having “such a lovely time.” When my dad took her back to the hotel, he made sure to walk her all-the-way-to-her-door. Ironically, in the ultimate plot twist, Jantzen had set my mom up to room with no other than—drum roll please—Miss Missouri.
My dad shrugs dismissively whenever I bring up what it was like to finally meet Miss Missouri? “Well, she wasn’t as good-looking as your mother, that’s for sure.”
Not wanting the date to end and knowing my mother was a devout Catholic, this dapper protestant asked my mom to Mass the next morning…and then to lunch. “I wanted to spend more time with her, and I knew she would want to go to church on Sunday. So, I asked if I could escort her to Mass,” my dad explained with a wink of his eye.
The next day, my mom flew back to Portland, Oregon, with a lot on her mind. For starters, what to do about a fiance. “Such a nice man,” my mom recalls whenever the story surfaces.
A week or so later, my dad flew back to Portland and asked my mom out to dinner—on one condition—she not wear her engagement ring.
In a daring move, my mom took her engagement ring to the jewelry store to be cleaned, and when the jeweler said, “it would only take a few minutes,” my mom replied, “No worries, I’ll pick it up in the morning.”
Needless to say, my mom called off her engagement a few days later, and this week my parents celebrated their 59th wedding anniversary—and the rest is history.
-Dear Miss Missouri, thank you. I’m sure you are a beautiful woman, and I hope you have lived a happy life, but still, I’m grateful it wasn’t you who caught my dad’s eye across a crowded room in the spring of ’61.
Lisa hopes to share life’s stories through the ever-changing platform she founded, called The Evolving Nest. She writes and shares insights about her own triumphs and struggles during her 30-year marriage to her husband and best friend. Together they have 3 growing children, two of which live 1,500 miles away most of the year, and an adult son with autism who has the run of the upstairs to himself. Lisa also contributes to Her View From Home, various podcasts, and of course, her own website, The Evolving Nest.
“We should all find a quiet place, a peaceful space, to bury the chaos and rest for a while” – Christy Ann Martine
I’ve never seen Hot Tub Time Machine but I do believe in the magical transportation of a good soak. My favorite time to tub is early in the morning. A summer sunrise, the first bird’s song, children sleeping, and a cup of fresh coffee all point to perfection–now add warm bubbles–bliss.
While the hot tub plays a large part in my self-care routine, it has also rescued my marriage.
Our hot tub was an Amazon Prime impulse buy. Two days later, a semi-truck dropped it off in our gravel driveway and took off. At least 100 feet away, over rough terrain, was the deck where it was going. What did we do? Rolled it. Yep, we decided to “roll” a square, 500-pound hot tub over rock, gravel, and seemingly endless grass. We were sweating, laughing, and swearing, but in hindsight, the tub was already bringing us together in fresh ways.
Thankfully, the roll didn’t ruin anything and my husband’s brute strength combined with a makeshift pulley got it on the deck where it will stay forever–or until it’s time to sand and stain the deck again.
Our first time sitting in the tub was a summer evening. The grass was freshly cut, our beverages were strong and sparkly, and I could feel his sense of accomplishment. My husband is a very humble man but there was a rare glimpse of pride. I realized the steam and jets were creating a physical space for relaxed transparency. We seek that intimate space daily.
By transparent and intimate, I don’t mean the hot tub makes everything easy and we have it all figured out. Far from it.
What I do mean is very basic and practical: it is hard to get real pissy about tight finances, your in-laws, a leaky skylight, when to schedule an oil change, work, college savings, or what to make for dinner when a water jet is literally easing your tension.
Our hardest and most honest conversations are reserved for “the tub.” But, it’s not because of the 104-degree water massage. It’s the intentionality of the space. How many times have you asked your spouse a question that morphed into a heated conversation and then exploded into a fight– because the timing and space the original question required wasn’t available? I do this. He does this.
We are trying to be better because we realize it is easy to get huffy when asked about a late notice while the kids are pulling on your nightgown and patience, the eggs are burning and Paw Patrol is on volume 1,000 in the background. It’s not so easy to be defensive when asked, “Do you need any information from me to look into that bill?” by bare wet shoulders glistening in the twilight. Good space–good timing–good heat.
I show my first-rate “processor” husband respect and care when I wait to ask the hard questions or start a tricky conversation until we can both be fully present and relaxed. When he is thoughtful, engaged, and encouraging—he shows me, an impulsive Amazon-primer, respect, and care as well.
The result, for us, is many hours in the hot tub and a more gracious, authentic, and supportive marriage.
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Camille Ogden, M.A. is the founder of Camille Creative Co., a freelance creative writing firm. She has a column in the Register Guard in Eugene Oregon titled, The Way We Lead and enjoys merging her professional pursuits in higher education, leadership, and development with her creative passions and talents. She holds degrees in strategic communication, English literature, creative writing, religion, and philosophy. When they aren’t at home living the country life, Camille and family can be found boating on the nearest lake or relaxing oceanside.
When you get married it’s because you have met the man you feel is supposed to be your last first kiss, but what happens when he is not?What happens when your plans change?
My husband’s death came as an unexpected blow to “my plans”. At first, I didn’t think I’d ever want to move on, but time changes things and with time came interest in the possibility of someone else. The problem is how do I grieve my husband and like someone else? How can I consider my next first kiss when my husband was supposed to be my last?
Suddenly I feel pulled in two directions. One part of me is excited for the possibility of someone to love me and my son. We miss having someone who wakes up with us on his mind. We miss having that male role in our home. We miss having someone who makes us smile and laugh, especially considering we’ve cried a whole lot.
But then there is the part of me that feels like a cheater. I know it’s been 16 months. I know he is not coming back. I know I wouldn’t have entertained the thought of someone else while he was alive. I know he would want me to move on. Regardless of all I know, I still feel like I’m unfaithful even just to a memory.
How do I move on when I know my husband doesn’t? Does his memory fade more if I’m no longer Rick’s wife but also ______’s girlfriend? Am I allowed to still talk about him, still mourn him, still wish he was here if I am dating someone else?
What if it becomes serious? Is there a man that exists that can be fully devoted to my son but still recognize he is not his only father? Is there a man willing to have another man’s name discussed around the table as friends and family continue to share my husband’s memory? Is there a man confident enough in who he is and our love without becoming jealous that I will always love someone else?
Here is the truth. I never want to forget I was Rick’s wife. I never want Zander to forget his dad. But more and more I am recognizing that our lives didn’t stop when his did. So now we are tasked with moving on, but I am compelled to take my husband’s memory on with us. Trying to figure out how moving on but not forgetting work together is a hard line. One I am not sure I am skilled enough to walk. There are days I am totally overwhelmed trying to walk this line that feels like a tight rope especially given there is no net and I’ve never done it before.
I am confident of two things. Whoever gets me and Z (if anyone does) is getting something special. I say that not with arrogance or boasting. I say it with assurance. We have loved hard and lost big and with a loss that great comes an absolute appreciation for your loved ones and the time you have with them.
So whoever gets us will be loved big because we know that time is too precious to sweat the small stuff. I actually once thought being a widow would probably be a deterrent to a potential mate especially considering I write all about my feelings and maybe for some it is; however, I now believe that I proved I lived my vows and I love with a sincerity that even death cannot sever.
I also have complete and total confidence in the fact that Rick won’t be forgotten because who I am is forever changed because of the life we lived together.
He made such an impact on me and instilled values and opinions that I now hold as my own. So in a way, anyone who loves me, will in a small way love him because he made me the me I am today. Nora McInerny said, “We don’t “move on” from grief. We move forward with it.” So I won’t move on from Rick, I’ll move on with him in my heart which is where he has been from the day we met and where he will stay forever.
I hate that Rick isn’t my last first kiss. I hate that we lived the vows till death, but that it came to an end way too soon.
What I love though is that while he may not be my last first kiss, he taught me how to love deeply and in a dating world that is hard to navigate he taught me to know my worth and wait for someone who knows it too.
He taught me that relationships take work and sometimes you want to quit but things that are really valuable are worth the effort. He taught me to be better and bring the best parts of myself to any relationship and always find the best parts of my partner. I am lucky for the years we had and I am blessed to carry the lessons from my past into the future. Whether that future will include someone new or not, only God knows at this point.
What I do know is I have been blessed to love and be loved.I will approach the rest of my life with the intent to always love big with the knowledge that maybe one of my next first kisses could be the one that is my last.
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My name is Valeria Tipton. I am the author of the blog Heartbreak to Hallelujah (http://www.heartbreaktohallelujah.com/). I am a 36-year-old widow but I mostly identify as a mom. When my husband of nearly half my life passed away unexpectedly I thought God you promised you would make all things good but I don’t see how this could be good. However, because I know God I decided I would write down my journey because while losing my husband could never be good, God is. I know He keeps His promises and I will find good in this journey and that is what I hope to share with others in a way that is real and sometimes messy but always blessed.
“Life begins at the end of your comfort zone”-Spartan.com
My wife and I will celebrate our 25th anniversary this year, and I am chasing her tail with a renewed sense of vigor.
You see, in the last few months we’ve come to enjoy trail running together, and my wife usually sets the pace, which means her backside is my focal point—kind of like the pacesetting rabbit at the greyhound races.
So why take up an activity like this now? Having both passed the half-century mark, what possessed us to begin running up and down the hilly trails around town? To answer that, we need to go back 15 years…
Like many families, my wife Amy and I were busy with work and raising kids. We pursued an active lifestyle, coaching our kids’ athletic teams, and playing outside as often as we could. Amy and I were both raised in active families and just naturally continued that lifestyle with our children. However, we never had a formal “exercise regimen” as part of our schedule. Life had settled into a routine of sorts.
Then, I received a heart-wrenching phone call. Amy and the kids had gone to spend a couple of days with friends on the coast. Not long after she left she called me, and as I answered the phone she cried out, “We’ve been in a horrible car accident, and Andrew is dead.” Andrew is our oldest son. Within seconds she said, “Oh, he just jumped out of the car and is okay. Gotta go.” And then she just hung up…
It turned out they’d been slowing down on the highway to turn across traffic and were rear-ended, totaling the two cars they were in. Amy and the two younger children were in the first car, and Andrew was in the second. She assumed Andrew couldn’t have survived the accident based on the impact she felt in the lead car.
Amy’s van was pushed off the side of the road but these cars were not so fortunate.
While our three children, aged 6, 4, and 1, and Amy had no visible injuries, it was clear to the paramedics that Amy was confused and was developing a headache and neck pain. She was transported to the hospital by ambulance, where she was evaluated and diagnosed with a concussion.
While Amy didn’t appear to be injured, she’d suffered a serious head injury, leaving her unable to remember how to use a phone book or even perform simple addition, much less any of her graphic design work. Her headaches were often debilitating, and we eventually discovered she had injured her neck as well, which would require a fusion a few years later.
As Amy struggled to recover, my responsibilities at home increased significantly. Life became simply about survival.
In order to keep up with work and a busy family schedule, we ate a lot of prepared meals and takeout. And exercise? It was non-existent.
Amy tried her best to keep up, but physically demanding activities were too much for her. I tried on multiple occasions to begin an exercise program but could not sustain a routine.
During that timeframe, we had the help of an excellent counselor. He warned us that 80% of marriages where one spouse has suffered a traumatic brain injury, end in divorce. To combat this, he impressed upon us the importance of maintaining good sleep patterns, a healthy diet, and regular exercise.
I can’t say that we really excelled in any of those areas, but Amy did make some major progress in recovery from her brain injury. We also hired a personal trainer and were working out as a family once a week. Plus, I was trying to work out on my own several days a week.
Then, four years ago, I flunked a life insurance physical. I was stunned.
Sure, I was carrying a few extra pounds. And I knew that the stress from work and some related projects was less than healthy. But being told my blood pressure was elevated and my blood sugars were in the diabetic range was a complete surprise.
Now a good diet and exercise regimen wasn’t just a good idea, they were a necessity. Amy helped to overhaul our dietary regimen and worked hard to cook healthy meals while I began rowing a half an hour a day. I lost weight, and my numbers came back down within three months. But I got bored—rowing nowhere fast.
Amy’s father, who has always been an inspiration to us, asked us to do a mud run along the way for fun—which it was. Who knew getting dirty exercising could be so much fun?
Then a year into our lifestyle change, a friend invited me to join a group running in a more competitive obstacle course race. I found this race not only fun but invigorating.
So in 2017, I started searching for my own races to compete in and found a Spartan Race close to home. (Spartan is a brand in the growing sport of obstacle course racing which involves running over varying terrain with obstacles thrown in along the course. Think basic training.)
I signed up for a 4-mile/23 obstacle course race in Portland, Oregon, and ran it in memory of a college roommate who had recently committed suicide. I knew if I wanted to be around for my own family, I needed to improve my own physical health.
I was hooked.
Mark completing the ‘Fire Jump’
In addition to winning a medal for completing the race, I earned 1/3 of a Spartan Trifecta medal. If I could finish two more Spartan races, their middle distance, and the longer distance called the Beast, I would complete the three-piece medal and earn my place in the ’Spartan Trifecta Tribe.’
Never one to pass up a challenge, and irritated by missing two pieces of the medal, I signed up for two more races, one at Big Bear and one in Sacramento, California. I started training for the obstacles, watching videos, and doing research and apparently talking about it—a lot. My kids accused me of “geeking out” over my new hobby.
I traveled to California twice before the end of the year and raced on my own. With all three pieces of the Trifecta medal, I had joined the Tribe. I felt an incredible sense of accomplishment, but it was also lonely, crossing the finish line without anyone to help celebrate the moment.
So, what does this have to do with marriage in the second half of life? Everything, thanks to my amazing wife.
Amy is smart and intuitive and understood how motivating these races were to me. With our kids about to leave the nest, Amy realized that if this was important to me, she wanted to give it a try as well.
Running up hills, climbing over walls, crawling under barbed wire, carrying buckets of rocks, and throwing a spear didn’t sound like fun to her (well, maybe throwing spears), but she signed up anyway for me, and more importantly, for us.
Our first race together was with a group of friends. The challenge stimulated her competitive nature, and she agreed to go back to Sacramento with me to do the middle distance race, 8 + miles, and 25 + obstacles.
We finished the race together, sharing in the sense of accomplishment and celebrating together at the finish line.
Finishing hand-in-hand
As we were driving home, feeling that good sense of tired and sore, it occurred to me that our weekend spent racing fulfilled another desire that we had — to have a weekend getaway. While the purpose had been to run the race, we had enjoyed the entire weekend together, talking, eating out, and just being together.
In 2019, Amy wanted to take on the challenge of finishing her own Trifecta. So we started working out together at Orange Theory, which we found was a good fit for both of us. After encouraging Amy to actually do some running before tackling the Spartan Beast, a 12+ mile race with over 30 obstacles, we started trail running on Saturdays, slowly building up our mileage.
Initially reluctant, as Amy didn’t think she enjoyed running, she’s found that running together through the trees on the trails around Eugene, Oregon energizing and a lot of fun.
As I write this, we are traveling back from SoCal, where we combined our racing with an opportunity to see our college-age kids. We spent dinner with them on Friday night, and our youngest hung out with them during the day while Amy and I raced, then we all celebrated with dinner. On Sunday morning, we all went to church and then finished with brunch before heading back to Oregon. It was a rich weekend with family.
And even more amazing, Amy finished the third leg of her Trifecta, earning her membership in the “Tribe.”
After both completed the Trifecta
When you consider where she was 15 years ago, with a traumatic brain injury and a neck injury requiring a fusion, this is an incredible accomplishment, and I couldn’t be more proud of her. She said it was the most challenging thing she has ever done, physically, emotionally, and mentally—but well worth the effort.
Our mutual love and respect for each other, and pride in one another’s accomplishments have grown immensely. This is all because Amy was willing to try something new, out of her comfort zone, to spend time with me.
Finding an activity we both enjoy, and competing together, has renewed our passion for one another and has definitely brought us closer together. We are blessed that it has become something we both love to do.
Our goal going forward is to complete at least one Trifecta a year and expand our travel horizons to include international races. Sparta, Greece, is foremost on our bucket list. And hopefully, someday soon you’ll see the two of us up on the winner’s podium for our age group.
In the meantime, my life is so much richer than two years ago when I finished my first Spartan Beast in the dark, surrounded by strangers and feeling oddly alone, without anyone to help celebrate my accomplishment
Having my best friend and partner cross the finish line, holding my hand, makes it infinitely sweeter. And it doesn’t hurt that I get to chase her tail up the hills every week – she even lets me catch her once in a while.
*If you’re not connected to Facebook and you would like to comment, please do so below the Author’s Bio section.Please note, neither the Meyers nor The Evolving Nest has a marketing affiliation with Spartan.com or Orangetheory Fitness.
Mark has been married to his beautiful wife Amy for almost 25 years.They have 3 children, two in college and a sophomore in high school.He is a family physician where he uses his Biology degree daily, but enjoys putting the other half of his double major, a Classics degree, to work with occasional writing.Spartan racing pulls together his love of history with his love of the outdoors.When not running the trails he is liable to be wake surfing, snow skiing or hunting with his family.Or maybe curled up with a good book.
So apparently it’s a thing now. Like, 25% of married couples are WAAY into it.
Even my grandparents, who would now be well over a century old if they were still alive, were into it as young as their 40’s.
I remember discovering their little secret as a newlywed, and after the initial shock wore off, thought to myself…that won’t be us; we’ll never do that.
Well, it turns out my grandparents were ahead of their time, and I’ve to add it to my list of things I swore I’d never do or say, but every so often, ‘find myself doing or saying.’
You see, about every 10th night…I retreat to our guestroom to get a good night’s sleep because occasionally he snores, and I apparently purr; either way, it’s keeping us both up at night.
I hate to admit it, but some nights, I’m downright giddy.
I bid my husband farewell, stroll down the hall and gently shut the guest room door. Nestling into bed, I fluff the pillows just so and leave the bedside lamp on as long as I want- because I can.
Once all comfy, I’ll leisurely alternate between listening to a favorite podcast and scrolling through social media until I drift off; with no worries of the blue glow from my iPhone disturbing my husband’s slumber.
After an evening apart, I feel a little bit like we’ve just channeled Queen Elizabeth and her prince as they sauntered out of their separate bedrooms; she in her silk robe and he in his smoking jacket.
Except, in reality, my prince is already sweaty from his early morning workout and my oh-so-notroyal self is stumbling around in old pj’s trying to find glasses and coffee…and not necessarily in that order. Romantic, it is not.
I wake up refreshed, yet discontent. For me, there’s something lost when we don’t sleep next to each other; something is missing.
I don’t want to just ‘cuddle’ and go our separate ways…
I want to fall asleep next to my husband, reach for his hand to hold in the middle of the night and wake up with him by my side. Sleeping next to each other over the last twenty-seven years has created a bond beyond words, and the less time we sleep near each other, the less emotional intimacy our marriage experiences.
We spend the majority of our working days apart, and sometimes the only chance we get to reconnect is falling asleep…back-to-back.
So, when the demands of the day overwhelm us, or we’re just a little bit irritated with each other…there is nothing like holding his hand in the middle of the night to melt our frustrations away.
My intent is not to debate the pros and cons of couples electing to sleep separately, because I know it’s a reality for many couples to get a good night’s rest. I’m simply pointing out that it’s one part of my aging process,I don’t particularly care for and I’m hoping to reverse the course.
Fortunately, we don’t snore every night…yet.
My grandmother must’ve noticed my surprise all those years ago, because she casually offered, “Honey, your grandad sounds like a freight train, and sometimes a girl just needs a good night’s sleep.”
I pray we have many more decades together, but unlike my grandparents, I don’t want sleeping in separate bedrooms to become more frequent, or even the norm.
So, I’ve decided to make that appointment I’ve been avoiding; the one with the sleep clinic…
I promise I’ll call…first thing in the morning, just as soon as I get a good night’s sleep.
Lisa hopes to share life’s stories through the ever-changing platform she founded, called The Evolving Nest. She writes and shares insights about her own triumphs and struggles during her 30-year marriage to her husband and best friend. Together they have 3 growing children, two of which live 1,500 miles away most of the year, and an adult son with autism who has the run of the upstairs to himself. Lisa also contributes to Her View From Home, various podcasts, and of course, her own website, The Evolving Nest.
“Cuddle with me so I can put my freezing cold feet on you and probably use you as a pillow and steal all the covers. K. Thanks.” (Pinterest)
On our wedding day 28 years ago, my husband’s father and our best man, implored us in his toast that the THREE MOST IMPORTANT words in our marriage to come would be these: Pirates. Penguins. Steelers.
I can’t say he was entirely wrong. Having been raised in the Steel City, my husband IS all about these black and gold teams that grace the small city of Pittsburgh.
Little did I realize the sacrifice he was making on our honeymoon when his precious Penguins were in the Stanley Cup final (that’s the Super Bowl of hockey) and I was completely oblivious (and possibly admonishing) to Allen’s frantic search for a newspaper some mornings to find the score of the game the night before (this was during those olden days without internet or cell phones)!
Happy to say they won their VERY FIRST CHAMPIONSHIP that year and don their team name on the trophy!
Heeding Allen’s father’s advice, I have embraced these three words (well, two of them fully and one of them only if I can get to a live game because watching baseball on TV is akin to watching golf…not heart-pumping enough for this wiggly, mile-an-hour girl). They have been a tremendous plus to our marriage, and as many of you know, I am now almost a bigger Steelers fan than he is!
Fast forward. Four houses. Four kids. Four jobs.
Unhealed, hidden selves (very hidden on the day we said “I do”) bubble to the surface and bump up against one another. As our marriage clock tick-tocks, the bumps get stronger and louder and more painful.
Words of defeat and shame are uttered (by me). “Are we going to make it?” “What is wrong with me/you/us?” “Is there any hope?”
THREE choice, sacred, life-giving, hope-gathering words are voiced (by my husband). “WE’RE STILL LEARNING.”
I am taken aback, the words bouncing around like a super ball, uncatchable.
“But,” I whisper to myself, “we’ve been at this for a long time.” Defeat and shame creep back over and over, sometimes kept hidden inside, other times shouted in anger and most often, spoken desperately alongside tears of fear.
Again and again, time after time, the three words of life and hope and healing pour from my husband’s mouth. “WE’RE STILL LEARNING.”
These simple THREE words:
allow grace to cascade over us like a waterfall in the middle of a marriage drought
bring mercy to the unhealed selves that keep banging into each other
remind shame (in no uncertain terms) to “GET OUT of our house and our lives and our marriage!”
spark forgiveness as we stop demonizing and begin humanizing each other
usher discovery, newness and life into what seems unchanging, decrepit and even dead
grant bravery to our fearful parts, allowing for a life-long journey of change, growth and healing
energize our hearts to experience freedom from the past and anticipation for the future
breathe desperately-needed and longed for HOPE to the deepest parts of these two souls and bodies, uniting them again and again in ways previously unknown
Today, on our anniversary, we headed on a hike through a windy, periodically smooth, sometimes unmarked, gloriously scenic, often rocky, difficult-to-navigate in spots, kind of scary, breath-taking trail in Allamuchy Mountain State Park. Our favorite part of all was two swans (did you know they mate for life?) with their babies!
We talked about our favorite memories of this marriage we’ve shared.
Two things we noticed: most of them were hiking of some kind and lots of them were when something didn’t go quite as we planned (like the time we ended up in some woods filled with mosquitoes and we had to sprint from one end to the other, laughing and swatting as we went).
Marriage is like hiking…
It’s windy. It’s periodically smooth-sailing. It’s unmarked in places. It’s gloriously scenic. It’s difficult to navigate in spots. It can be scary. It definitely takes our breath away at times. We need hope every single day.
We need all that these three simple, yet profound words speak to.
Today, this best gift of my husband, “WE’RE STILL LEARNING,” wash over my soul afresh, hope and life breathed anew.
Here’s to AT LEAST 28 more years!
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Esther is a wife to one and a mom to four grown children (ages 20-28). She was born a missionary kid in war-torn Ethiopia, but has become a potato chip-eating, football-loving American, Christian wife and mom who has a fierce passion for marriage and family. She’s a little snarky, a little sappy, a little strong and hopefully more than a little Spirit-led. She’s been driven to her knees in prayer and to raise her hands in praise. She’s speaks words of hope and wisdom where the heart meets the home and faith touches the family. You can read more of Esther’s beautiful writings at the following: The Dolly Mama Blog, Instagram: Moms of Bigs, Instagram: The Dolly Mama, Facebook: Moms of Bigs, Facebook: The Dolly Mama
Even though most experts would agree it’s more of a mental game than a physical one, it was painfully obvious I was going to need a lot of practice. So, when I casually mentioned to my husband I was going to hit golf balls, I wasn’t expecting his reaction.
He was ecstatic! “Wow, I’ve just never heard you say that…what prompted this?”
“Well, it’s The Evolving Nest yeah know,” I laughed in response. This phrase has become our mantra ever since I started trying to figure out why some couples thrive after decades of marriage and why others quietly grow apart.
I always wonder, what happened? Could it happen to us too?
To his credit, my husband, Phil, has asked me countless times to play golf over the last thirty years—yes, 3-0! But, I rarely found the time.
I don’t hate golf, but if a genie granted me four kid-free hours when the kids were little, I would not have chosen to spend them trying to hit a tiny white ball into a little round hole. Regrettably,I never considered playing golf with my husband as an opportunity to simply enjoy time together.
For us, although we haven’t golfed much, but we still enjoy each other’s company. We do projects around the house, we take the kids on fun outings, and we eat dinner as a family almost every night. Plus, Phil’s had carte blanche to play golf with his friends, so why is it so important that weplay together?
As we talked about it one evening, my husband, Phil, recalled how before kids we used to ski in the winter almost every weekend, and he loved that I was always up for trying to beat him on the tennis court. “It was one of your most endearing qualities,” he said, before hesitantly adding, “You used to be game for anything.”
When had I stopped being game for anything?
I always assumed it was fairly normal to have completely separate interests until I started reading about the importance of “recreational companionship” in Dr. Willard F. Harley’s book, His Needs Her Needs.
Dr. Harley stresses my assumption is true… but only to a point. He asserts, “Men typically place a surprisingly high importance on recreational companionship, second only to sex for the typical husband.”
The doctor’s words wouldn’t have cut so deep if Phil and I had at least one activity we regularly pursued together; but sadly, we did not.
I’d never even heard the term “recreational companionship,” let alone understood it was important to my husband. How had I missed this?
For years, my husband’s said we need to find activities we enjoy so when the kids move out, we have fun things to do together. I often laughed when he said it, but as our youngest gets closer to leaving for college, his words carry more urgency.
Sure we travel together and enjoy an occasional date night. We even Netflix and chill, but apparently this “isn’t enough to sustain most couples,” according to the book, “especially if either spouse has additional needs that are not being met.”
When we were dating, I jumped at any chance to spend time with him. We’d take road trips, ski and attend all sorts of sporting events at a moments notice. Once we married, I guess I didn’t feel like I needed to as much. Somewhere along the way, our careers, our house and eventually our kids all vied for my attention.
Spoiler Alert: I was shocked to read (and I paraphrase Dr, Harley), that not having activities couples frequently enjoy together is one of the most common reasons for divorce, regardless of how long a couple has been married. (Yikes!) It’s typically one of the root causes that can be traced to other, more obvious issues that have crept into the relationship over the years.
We all know those couples that seem fine and even look happy together, but then all of a sudden they’re getting divorced. What? But you two just posted beautiful, Instagram-worthy pictures together!
Eventually you hear, “they just grew apart” or “they don’t have anything in common anymore.” I’m not immune to realizing if it can happen to them, it can happen to us.
So, now what? I’m taking golf lessons and trying to play golf more often, that’s what!
I can finally play 9-holes of golf without sounding like a little kid in the backseat whining, “Are we there yet?”
We’ve also created a list of activities we’d like to try, and Phil says he’s game for hiking the nature trails I’ve been talking about exploring for years. Who knows, maybe we’ll even try skydiving.
It’s become an adventure just trying to find new things we both enjoy—together. Because at the end of the day, we all know, foreplay is the most important part of the game anyway.
Who is your favorite recreational companion?
Epilogue: I am happy to report that since this article was first published a year ago, we have added a few more fun activities we like to do together and with other couples…we skied Mt. Bachelor in Oregon and Sun Valley, Idaho last winter, started paddle boarding and kayaking this summer, and finally tackled a few hiking trails. Cheers to finding your own fun activities to do together!
If you’re interested in learning more about recreational compatibility, Dr. Harley offers a free Recreational Enjoyment Inventory at www.marriagebuilders.com. It covers hundreds of activities from stamp collecting to skydiving.
*The Evolving Nest does not have a direct affiliation with Dr. Willard F. Harley or marriagebuilder.com. For more information, see the Disclaimer statement at www.evolvingnestwithlisa.com
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Lisa hopes to share life’s stories through the ever-changing platform she founded, called The Evolving Nest. She writes and shares insights about her own triumphs and struggles during her 30-year marriage to her husband and best friend. Together they have 3 growing children, two of which live 1,500 miles away most of the year, and an adult son with autism who has the run of the upstairs to himself. Lisa also contributes to Her View From Home, various podcasts, and of course, her own website, The Evolving Nest.
