The Marriage Prayer…
As seen at Silver Dollar City (Branson, MO)
I’m not a big fan of fast food restaurants, but a few years ago I stopped by a hamburger chain for an iced tea and a salad.
Seated two tables across from me was an elderly couple who looked to be in their late seventies.
The gentleman sported a wrinkled blue work shirt with faded blue jeans and sensible looking shoes. His wife wore a beige polyester dress, complete with a strand of dime store beads.
I watched the fellow remove his cap and link hands with his wife. Then they bowed their snowy white heads to pray, something our own family does when dining out.
As the gentleman finished asking the blessing on their meal, I caught the tender moment that passed between husband and wife, the mutual reflection of love apparent in both pairs of eyes.
“Now, Mama, don’t worry if you can’t eat all that. We can always carry the leftovers home and have ’em for supper later.”
My heart clenched. How sweet of him.
His wife fiddled with her beads and studied the double-decker burger and fries. “Well, I’m rather hungry today. I don’t think we’ll have any leftovers this time. Why, I may even get an ice cream cone when I’m done here.”
“Why, good gracious, Mama. You’re gonna add another curve or two to that girlish figure of yours. And you know I have enough trouble keeping my eyes off of you.”
“Oh, bother!” She fanned herself with a napkin, pretending to be properly shocked. “You shouldn’t say such things in public.”
Ahhh.
They reminded me of my parents.
As I ate my salad and lingered over my tea, I tried not to intentionally eavesdrop, but with older people who speak a little louder sometimes, it can’t be helped.
I hadn’t meant to listen. But it wasn’t my fault.
It was such a tender display as I watched them eat. I wanted to absorb every nuance of those fragile few moments.
Lives intertwined.
Memories unfolding.
Every now and then, the gentleman would reach for his wife’s free hand and she would give his an affectionate squeeze in return.
Their movements were synchronized—each knowing what the other needed well before their thoughts were spoken.
She wanted another napkin.
He produced an extra one before she asked.
He needed another salt packet.
She handed him two.
I wondered how long the couple had been married and if they’d shared a happy life.
It looked like they had.
I finished my meal before they did, of course, but I was reluctant to leave.
Being a total romantic, I wanted to see how their story ended.
I wanted to find out if they would have the happily-ever-after.
After already spending decades together, I hoped they would
***
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ADDITIONAL INSPIRATION…
Real Romance: How Do We Get it Right?
Is Christian Fiction All Hearts and Flowers?
Is Marriage Necessary in Christian Fiction?
How to Approach Hot-Button Topics in Christian Fiction
What do you think are the main ingredients in marriages of longevity?
Do you try to merge these elements into your WIP?
***
Baby, it’s cold outside!
Bundle up, cuddle up, and tell someone you love them.
Blessings Always,
Comments 4
Love the article. I hope that will be my hubby and I one day. Though we are also not ones to go to fast food restaurants, we also join hands in prayer at dinner and home and church. We were late bloomers—didn’t marry for the first time until we were almost 40. This next year we celebrate our 18 and I always tell him that God was preparing us for each other and that is why we never got married earlier. Thanks for sharing this great experience.
Author
Laura, love your viewpoint! I absolutely believe God prepares us for our soul mates, and His timing is perfect.
While marriage may not be God’s plan for everyone, unions founded on Christ are the sweetest blessing. Congratulations on your upcoming 18th!
Sorry I’m here late. Had quite a day. Not the good kind.
I loved reading about your observations – you are SUCH a good writer! You brought it to life.
Scenes like that are really vital for developing a framework for romance, both in fiction and in life.
But not, alas, for me and Barbara.
Illness, and my own private action replay of Isandlwana, has pushed me into a corner that has brought out the ‘old’ me – the rather ruthless, bearded, Oakley’d and heavily armed chap who was going to come home from ANY situation, no matter what. Not someone with whom to hold hands.
It’s a necessity for survival under the circumstances, but survival is seldom a pretty sight.
It does beg the question – is it better to soften, and surrender to the inevitable? Leave a more gentle, if more abbreviated legacy?
No answers here.
Author
Andrew, I’m so very sorry for your pain.
It’s understandable that illness and past situations have shaped your perspective. Sometimes, when we’re dealing with so much, life tends to overwhelm and affect those we love the most, despite intention to the contrary.
Thanks for your transparency.
Please know I’m praying for you!