March 16, 1974

“Are you with him?” the state park guy asked me, pointing to Jake, who was studying the map.

“Yep,” I bragged. “Forty-five years now.”

“Oh, then it’s time for a change.”


“You need a new car every 20 years, you know.”

I scowled. Are you trying to be funny?

Then the awkward chatter ended something like this:

“I’m just joshin’ you. I’ve been married 27 years myself.”


March 16, 1974 . . . 45 years ago today was a warm Saturday morning in Texas. I was up early, stuck some curlers in the back of my shoulder-length hair and went for a wee walk through my neighborhood, looking at wildflowers in a section of open field, feeling happy, feeling nervous . . . it was my wedding day!


My mom had complained that only Catholic weddings were before noon but I am a morning person and I wanted an early wedding and Jake had shaved his beard off to please her, so that was that.

It was wonderful not having to wait, happy-nervous, all day. By 10:00, I was in my white eyelet dress (which I made myself. I’m kinda proud of that) and singing on the way to the gymnasium/chapel where we had the ceremony.


Before Jake, I’d had a few boyfriends. One guy I ‘loved’ through high school and two years of college, and when he broke my heart with the words, “I love you Sarah but we will never get married,” I resolved to never get close with anyone else unless I knew he was The One.

About a year later I met Jake.

He was The One.

Six months later we married.

That wedding morning, I had no doubts. (They came later.) I loved Jake and I loved being with Jake because — shows the immaturity of my love — because of how he made me feel.

Jake made me feel accepted just as I was.

Something I’d not felt with that 7-year guy.

My two sisters, me, my brother-in-law preacher, Jake, Bub N. and Ken K.

Many years after our wedding, years of ups and downs, blessings and struggles, Jake and I were in serious need of help.  We found a counselor, and when I was alone with her, I poured out my disappointments about our marriage.  She listened, then responded with this:

“Sarah, what would it take for you to accept Jake just as he is?”

I was silenced.

Hadn’t she heard me?

Didn’t she see that Jake needed to change?

Just a little?

Her question accused me. Stumped me. Dogged me for years.

I had no answer.

I honestly wanted to accept Jake like he accepted me.

I sincerely tried.

But there was always a hitch in my self-righteous heart.

Then one morning, probably ten years later, lying awake in bed, I was mulling over the counselor’s question and suddenly I ‘heard’ the answer.

A simple two word answer.

I felt it was from God.

What would it take for me to accept Jake just as he is?

“A miracle.”

I started laughing.

I’m still laughing.

Yes! Exactly! Bring it on, Lord! 

I love how Jesus accepts me just as I am, but does not leave me as I am.


I wish I’d thought to banter back at that state park guy.  I’d tell him, “It’s not a change of husbands that I need, it’s a continual change of heart.”

Being married to Jake has been a great adventure.

With lots of miracles.

Bub, the best man, was a prophet :o)








14 thoughts on “March 16, 1974

  1. Happy Anniversary to a wonderful couple!
    Love this story.. and how we can relate.. miracles never cease!
    God is with us!!!
    Love you


  2. Happy Anniversary. Those pictures… wow… 🙂 Aren’t the brides maids dresses still at Dad’s in the pink room closet?

    Sent from Outlook



  3. Isn’t it wonderful that we have a Father who often reminds us that He is our God of miracles! May we ladies learn to allow that miracle of loving acceptance just as sincerely as He loves us!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Loved it, Sarah!

    On Sat, Mar 16, 2019 at 4:21 AM Sarah Keeps Growing Down wrote:

    > sarahkeepsgrowingdown posted: ““Are you with him?” the state park guy > asked me, pointing to Jake, who was studying the map. “Yep,” I bragged. > “Forty-five years now.” “Oh, then it’s time for a change.” Huh? “You need a > new car every 20 years, you know.” I scowled. Are you trying to” >

    Liked by 1 person

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