Forty years ago today, I married my best friend.

We met at work, where I plotted to make sure my cute new colleague’s desk was placed next to mine. The scheme worked. Before long, we were doing lunch together, then hanging out after work, then introducing each other to our respective families. Besides being handsome, he was charming and witty. I was smitten.

When we vowed to take each other for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, we embarked on a journey. And what an amazing journey it’s been!

Pete and I have been lucky to experience lots of the “better” over the years – good times with wonderful friends, successful careers, a beautiful home, amazing vacations. We’ve also weathered our share of the “worse” – workplace drama, health problems, the loss of loved ones – and survived stronger than ever.

In our early days we were “poorer than church mice,” as the saying goes. Since we both worked several years for small faith-based not-for-profit organizations before retiring, we were fond of joking, “Actually, we are church mice!” But while we were never filthy rich, we’ve always had enough.

Like a gazillion other couples before us, Pete and I chose 1 Corinthians 13 as a reading for our wedding. And the more anniversaries we’ve celebrated, the more I’ve come to appreciate the standards this Biblical passage sets for the kind of love that makes a marriage last.

Love is patient. Pete’s taste in clothes and home decor is strictly “plain vanilla,” while mine tends toward “hot fudge sundae with a cherry on top.” I love carrots and beets, but detest peas and green beans. Pete thinks peas and green beans are at least okay, but would eat beets only if truly starving. And has anyone ever noticed how compulsive neatniks inevitably wind up with people whose standard of neatness is decidedly more … um … casual? At some point, we figured out these differences were not about right or wrong, but were simply preferences. The way to work out differing preferences was through compromise. And compromise, as we’ve learned over the years, takes considerable patience.

Love is kind. I first fell in love with the man who would go considerably out of his way to give me a ride to work when my car broke down. (I was driving a real lemon in those days, so it was always breaking down.) Little kindnesses have continued to be part of his charm. I still adore the man who serenades me with his dulcimer or harmonica when I’m doing morning meditation in front of the fireplace.

Love does not envy. Pete and I do have a bit of a competitive streak. We’ve been known to laugh as we sing to each other, “Anything you can do, I can do better!” And I’ve always suspected he was secretly charmed by the fact that I wasn’t the kind of girl to let the boys win at checkers. But underneath the friendly competition, we have always supported each other’s career choices. We take genuine pride in each other’s accomplishments.

Love does not boast. If there is one thing our marriage journey has taught us, it’s humility. Part of humility means that sometimes we must give up our insistence that our own way is the only right way to resolve a contentious issue. In fact, there have been times we needed to s-t-r-e-t-c-h our thinking enough to acknowledge that the other person might have a point.

Love does not dishonor others. From the time my sibs and I were old enough to date, our mother warned us to watch how a prospective partner treats other people besides us. Why? Because that’s how this person is going to treat us once the newness wears off the romance. Fortunately, one of the things that impressed me most about my sweetie was how much of a gentleman he was. He has always been unfailingly polite, diplomatic and respectful in his interactions with others, no matter who they are.

Love does not insist on its own way. During a required prenuptial counseling session, the minister who officiated at our wedding said, “I always tell young people they’ll need to compromise more than they’re used to doing.” He turned to his wife of 60 years. “One of the things I learned to do early on was say, ‘yes, dear.’ Isn’t that right?” His wife promptly replied, “Yes, dear.” To this day, Pete and I chuckle at the memory, and have been known to say to each other quite often, “Yes, dear.”

Love is not easily angered. This can be a hard one at times, since we both have a bit of a temper. When I hear a couple claim they never fight, I suspect one of two things is true. Either someone is not being quite honest about their genuine needs, or they’ve been together long enough to work through most of their differences. Luckily, over many years, we’ve gotten pretty good at not pushing each other’s buttons – at least not too hard.

Love keeps no record of wrongs. If we must “have it out” occasionally, we try to avoid “kitchen sink fighting.” (A tactic where one brings up everything, including the kitchen sink, during an argument – as in, “Whose turn is it to do the dishes, anyway?”) And forgiveness is mandatory. Few things sink a relationship faster than holding a grudge. Ephesians 4:26 reminds us, “Don’t let the sun set on your anger.”

Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth. While we may disagree from time to time about politics, standards of neatness, or which vegetables are tasty and which ones are gross, we thankfully agree on the important things. We’ve shared similar values from the beginning on everything from moral issues to priorities in life to the importance of giving back to the community. And we both love cats.

Love always protects. One nice thing about being married to one’s best friend is that we can be relied on to have each other’s back. Pete likes to call me his therapy skunk, and he’s taken his turn playing that role for me as well. As the designated therapy skunk, our job is to accompany each other to doctor appointments, where we provide emotional support, ask the hard questions and insist that medical people take our needs seriously.

Love always trusts. I must admit, trust came a bit hard for both of us at first. We had each been hurt in prior romantic or family-of-origin relationships I can only call “challenging.” We each had to learn not to punish the other for someone else’s failings. I was not the overly demanding parent, and Pete was not the ex with the roving eye.

Love always hopes. Over the past three years, Pete and I have both faced life-threatening health conditions. Pete has survived Stage 4 cancer treatment – chemotherapy, radical surgery, immunotherapy and multiple hospitalizations. I’ve survived a heart attack and two heart surgeries. While we’ve gotten amazing support from family, friends and our spiritual community, possibly the one biggest thing we’ve needed is hope. For hope to happen, we’ve had to lean on a health care team we can trust, and more importantly, we’ve had to lean on and trust God to get us through.

Love always perseveres. It’s fairly easy to make a marriage work when we’re experiencing the “better” and the “richer” and the “in health” part of our wedding vows. It’s when we experience the “worse” – the terrifying diagnoses, the loss of loved ones, the COVID pandemic with all its stressors – that the rubber hits the road in a relationship. If the challenges of the past few years have done nothing else, they’ve convinced us of this: We’re an unbeatable team.

Love never fails. One can often hear couples say they love each other more after decades of marriage than they did when they first got together. That’s certainly true for me. After having been through both the “better” and the “worse” together, my love for this amazing man just gets stronger every day. I don’t think I truly understood real love when I was a starry-eyed twenty-something. Of course, I remember with fondness the heady infatuation I felt in the early days of our courtship. But real love? For me, anyway, that’s come with age and maturity. The initial idealization has become a deep connection built on trust, understanding, and a long history of shared experiences. Or, as Pete and I like to say, we had an office romance that grew up.

I do have a bit of a confession to make. If anyone reading this is thinking, “Haven’t I read this blog post before?” – it’s because I posted an earlier version of it two years ago in honor of our 38th anniversary. At that time, our medical issues were so precarious and scary, I wasn’t entirely sure we would both make it to our 40th. And I wanted to make sure I got the chance to let both Pete and others know how much I appreciated him and our relationship while I still could.

But God is good! Pete’s condition is now “stable” and there has been no sign of cancer on his CT scans for almost two years now. After a couple years of cardiac rehab, I’m actually healthier than I was before. So we’re both still here, and right now, I consider myself one of the luckiest women alive.

After 40 years of marriage, Pete is still at the very top of my gratitude list. He’s kind, generous, decent and caring, my best friend, the wind beneath my wings, proof positive that there are good men, and the best thing that ever happened to me. I love that man to the moon and back, and I truly consider him to be a gift from a kind and loving God.

And I pray every day for God to please watch over us and take care of us, because I want us to have many more years together!