In Celebration of My Parents' Seventieth Anniversary

His blue eyes twinkle when he looks at her. When he smiles, the wrinkles around his eyes crease even deeper.

At their seventieth anniversary celebration

“Do you know what?” he says, with a conspiratorial whisper. “I still love her.”

She laughs. “After seventy years, too! He has an amazing way of overlooking all my faults and only remembering the good things.”

Her statement seems to encapsulate the carefree joy they have in each other.

“I got a good thing when I married her,” he tells me.

I hear this story almost every day now. He does not remember that he told me the same thing yesterday. Every day she’s just as sweet to him as she was the day before.

Sometimes, though, he is sad. He knows that he is weak and cannot do much. “I guess it’s the women who do everything,” he says with a sigh as he watches his wife fold and put away laundry.

“Sure,” she replies, sarcasm underlining her words. “It was the women who built our daughters’ furniture and built our house in Indonesia. It was the women who trekked through the jungle. It must have been the women who started the Bible school and the orphanage too.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks.

“You,” she says. “You did all of that and more.”

“I did?” he asks incredulously. “I can’t remember.”

It’s true. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember the army man who was assigned to the communications division in Italy during WWII or the man who thought he would become a mortician. He doesn’t remember enrolling at Bob Jones College or even meeting his wife. She says that he pursued, but she was cautious. She was following God’s call to be a missionary and thought that meant she would be single all her life. Yet God called him to be a missionary too, so on a hot summer day in August of 1948, they joined their lives together. Four years later, equipped with bachelor's degrees and a couple years of experience in the pastoral ministry, they set off for Dutch New Guinea (now called West Papua, Indonesia) to teach, preach, and establish churches.

It was hard at first, especially when they found out about the brutal murder of the two missionaries who were supposed to meet and train them. But they persevered - learning the language, adjusting to the climate and culture, and being so far from home. By the time they had been there 14 years, they had seen God save many people from their bondage to sin and churches were established. Harold started a Bible college to train pastors and leaders. Then, in a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, he was accused of being a CIA spy and sent to solitary confinement in a prison in Jakarta. It took seven months of negotiations to get him released. Hostage in Jakarta, a book on the table next to his recliner, reminds him of that time.

The years after Indonesia are foggy too. Unable to return to Indonesia, the mission sent them to Trinidad. After three years, they returned to the U.S. where he pastored churches in Illinois and Iowa. Yet the desire to serve abroad was still strong, so when an opportunity arose to work in the Philippines, they went.  Their adopted Filipina daughter is the jewel they brought back when they returned. She is now a constant reminder of his time there. When Harold’s aging mother needed them, he became the Missions Director for AMG International in Chattanooga. He still traveled the globe, balancing a myriad of details and obligations, while his wife stayed home. As his secretary, she was his right hand both at work and at home.

Most people thought his retirement from AMG at 77 years of age ended his ministry career, but retirement did not suit him. He still had more to offer. Was there a church that needed a pastor but could not afford to pay one? With his retirement income, he could do that. He found one in Maine. Many of their contemporaries thought they were crazy to move again, but they loved serving God together. He pastored there for five years before the Maine winters and his arthritis forced him to move south again.

Muriel’s adventuresome spirit is evident when she reflects on the way God led them. Over the years, they have moved at least 30 times. Every time, sadness engulfed her as she left friends behind, but she was ready to embrace the next adventure. She stood behind him, encouraging him to go forward for God. She gave birth to six children, and then they adopted one more and fostered more than 40 others along the way. Harold enjoys telling people that they have one and a half dozen children. “One,” he says with a pause, “and a half dozen.”

Muriel admires him. Sure, he is weak now and his memory is failing, but he has given his all for God. Together, they have followed God’s leading all along the way. Now it is not as easy to pick up and go, though Muriel is still active. She seems to think that it is normal to be teaching Sunday School at 92. And why should she give up on helping with Vacation Bible School? If you were to ask her if she wanted to go on a missions trip to Africa, she would ask, “When are we leaving?” She is still ready to go and do whatever God asks at any time, though right now that is at her husband’s side.

They are a good match. For seventy years, they have put each other’s needs before their own. Choosing to overlook each others’ faults, they have found joy in supporting each other. With hard work and prayer, their dreams and goals have been focused on pleasing God. And although they know it is impossible, they wish they could have seventy more years together.

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I wrote this in the weeks leading up to their seventieth anniversary. God enabled them to have almost seventy-one years together before He took Dad home.

Marriage Advice from Dad

Recently while I was sorting through the papers left behind by Charlie's parents, I found the transcript of the words of advice that Fred gave us during our wedding ceremony.  That day we asked both my parents and Charlie's dad to give us their words of advice for a good marriage.  We wanted to learn from those who had proven that a happy, successful marriage could be ours as well.  These words  were good words of advice which we welcomed as we began our life together.  We appreciated hearing them that day, and I enjoyed re-reading them today.  Maybe they will be a blessing to someone else, so I offer them here.

May I first congratulate Charles and Joan on their wedding day.  May your lives together be long and happy ones.

I would like to take this opportunity to express a few thoughts on what constitutes a happy and successful marriage.  I am not a psychologist, psychiatrist, or marriage counselor.  I am just a retired school teacher with almost 51 years of a productive and happy married life behind him.  These thoughts are meant to be a guideline only.  They worked for my wife Ellen and me, and we have lived by them.

First, make sure your spouse is your best friend.  Be there for your partner.  There will be times when you come home after a grueling day, when it seems that the world is against you, when the harder you try, the behinder you get and you feel a need to unburder yourself.  That is the time your spouse needs to sit and listen, not give advice or offer suggestions to what you could have done nor cast blame on anyone, but just sit and listen.  Perhaps and encouraging, kind word now and then would be in order.  The key, Charlie and Joan, is to let your spouse know you are there for them.

Second and most important, never go to sleep angry at each other.  Anger never solves problems.  It feeds upon itself.  I remember our pastor asked an elderly couple with 63 years of happy married life behind them what they attributed their successful marriage to.  Their answer in unison was this:  "We have never gone to sleep angry at each other."  I know from experience that at bedtime, when all is in darkness, if one hand will reach out it will find the spouses hand ccoming to meet it.  The past intense discussion, yes even an argument, will be cast aside with love for one another and the Lord's help.  All problems can be solved.

Third, verbal angry words hurt and cannot be withdrawn.  We hear a lot about physical abuse these days, but I believe verbal abuse is more hurtful and long lasting.  Verbal abuse, and angry words, those words that are spoken without thought, can wound deeply.  The idea that an apology makes it all right again is nonsense.  Once spoken, the words are there.  Find a method that works for both of you when anger arises.  Perhaps an embrace, a cooling-off period, or a prayer.  Above all, when angry emotions take over, find a way to control them.

There are many experiences that the two of you will have.  There are many decisions to make.  My prayer is that the two of you soon learn to be one.  Think of the other first.  Don't fail to show love and affection for each other.  I know there are those who wondered why my wife and I, both in our 70's, still held hands, hugged a great deal and never said goodbye without a kiss.  But we know why.  We loved each other for 51 years.

So Charlie and Joan, enjoy your lives together.  Be the other's best friend, and always be there for each other.  God bless you.

 I did not remember his exact words, so it was good to reread them.  I did, however, remember the gist of what he said.  He was a real blessing to us, and I am so thankful to have known him.

Fifteen Years

Fifteen years ago I said, “I do.”  I said it with full faith that God had brought us together and that He would give me the grace to fulfill the vows I made that day.  I did not expect it to be easy.  In fact, I expected it to be hard.  We had both been single a long time.  Joining two independent lives and making them one would be a challenge.  And, although we had known each other for more than a year, our long-distance relationship meant that we had not spent a lot of time together.

The first couple years I found myself often praying, “Lord, help me to be the wife you want me to be.  Make me a servant.  Make me submissive.”  My independent spirit often rebelled.  I got upset over small things and cried silent tears over my failures.  I struggled to be the wife I knew I should be and cried out for God’s mercy and power to make me that woman.

At the same time, I was amazed at how blessed I felt by having this man by my side.  God had given me a huge gift.  He given me a friend and companion for the rest of my life, and He had answered my prayer for a ministry partner.

There were a few blessings that surprised me.  My emotional ups and downs leveled out.  He stabilized me.  When the dark clouds of winter’s SAD came over me, I simply talked to him about it and we figured out a way to ease its hold.  Perhaps the biggest blessing to our new marriage was that I found was that he had already learned to resolve conflict in a biblical manner, and he taught me to do the same.

So today I want to give thanks to God for this man I call “My wonderful husband.”  I wanted to write him a poem, but the words and thoughts have failed, so instead I’ll just make a list.
Charlie, I still love . . .

• looking at your sleepy face across the breakfast table. 
• cooking together.
• hearing you pray for me.
• learning from you when you preach and teach.
• dreaming and working with you on the things God still has for us to do.
• the way you try to please me with little things and big:  little things like making the bed or doing the dishes and big things like taking me out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate our anniversary.
• your faith in our amazing God.
• your steadying influence in my life.
• your steadfastness to stay on the path God has shown us even when the end of deputation seems like an unattainable goal.
• sitting in the library or the café together working separately on our computers.
• sharing our faith together at the evangelism booth at the fair.
• singing duets with you.
• walking down the street hand in hand.
• and so much more.  I think I could keep going until everyone got tired of reading, but that’s enough for now.

Suffice it to say, I’m so glad I married you.