How does one find the words to portray sixty years of marriage? It’s virtually impossible! Wasn’t it only yesterday that we stood at the altar, so young, so vulnerable, so passionately in love, and so grateful to be in that defining moment, with our whole life before us. There, in that beautiful, 12th century English church, before God and fewer than 50 guests, we gazed into each other’s eyes and solemnly pledged our vows, declaring our undying love for one another. For eternity.
It was a glorious day. The weather? Not so much. It was a cold, damp February day, but that mattered not to us. We were to be married. Our hearts were on fire.
It was a small wedding with only family and close friends. The church seated fifty people, but oh the history of St. Nicolas Church, at Forest Hill. Everything about our wedding was minimal, but our love was there in abundance. My dress? White velvet, sewn by yours truly on a hand propelled Singer sewing machine, decorated with a few covered buttons down the back bodice, and a strip of fluffy swan’s down to soften the scooped neckline. My head dress and veil? Borrowed from a loving aunt.
One groomsman stood by Chuck, his best man, and I was attended by one bridesmaid—my best friend since we were 14 years old. She was adorned in a sleeveless yellow gown that I had worn as a bridesmaid for an Aunt’s wedding two years before. She and my sweet little cousin, the flower girl, wearing a white velvet dress I’d made from my leftover material, shivered uncontrollably in the frosty air of early February. The organ music was beautiful and light filtered through the stained glass windows adding a glow of warm tones to the flagstones in the cool sanctuary. We sang a hymn or two, we pledged our vows, the vicar said a prayer for our marriage, and we place rings on our fingers.
Chuck gently pushed back my veil. The first kiss for his bride. We were married! Then off to a small reception at Studley Priory Hotel before leaving for The Shakespeare Hotel in Stratford upon Avon for our first night. As luck would have it, the proprietor saw confetti falling from my hat, and he comped us the honeymoon suite. What a gift!
And thus married life began for Mr. & Mrs. Charles Tripp.
Yes, nothing short of epic can describe the enormity of sixty stunning years of married life. The ups and downs and all arounds that inevitably are intertwined in a lasting marriage. The challenges and perks of a military life, the responsibilities and thrills of raising three precious children, the time invested and satisfaction reaped from building a successful home business. The sheer joy of loving our grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Generational love is the circle of life. So many stories we could share. And oh, my goodness, the meaningful moments, the millions of magical memories. Let’s not forget our hope for the future and the daily gratitude we express for being healthy. Best of all? We still have each other. Oh, how greatly God has blessed our union.
And, at the heart of our marriage, a faithful God. Our unconditional love has grown ever deeper with each passing year, through all the peaks and valleys of life. Thank you Lord for bringing us together and watching over us for sixty years, and for those yet to to come.
“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, ‘go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.’” —Lewis Carroll 
