It’s early evening. We are waiting for a table. My wife and I are standing in a long line of people who all had the same brilliant idea—to take the interstate exit and visit Cracker Barrel.
Behind me is a Baptist youth group. Mostly boys. I saw their vans in the parking lot. There must be 50 of them, and they all smell like hormones.
Ahead of me: an elderly couple. She’s pretty, wearing a floral shirt. He is two feet higher than she is, with wide bony shoulders. He is wearing a ball cap and holding her arm.
His hands are trembling. His head bobs back and forth. He doesn’t seem to have any control over his movements.
The hostess calls them.
The woman says into the man’s hearing aid, “Table’s ready.”
He smiles. It’s a nice smile. I wish my smile was half as inviting as Old Blue Eyes.
I see them in the dining room. The man keeps his shaky hands in his lap, but it doesn’t stop him from moving. He looks uncomfortable in his own body.
She is playing the wood triangle game. I’ve never been very good at this novelty test. And apparently, neither has she.
No sooner has the waitress delivered their plates of food than the old woman takes a seat beside Old Blue Eyes. She tucks a napkin into his collar. She spoon-feeds him. His shoulders start to toss violently. His head jerks to the side. He’s making a mess. I’m thinking M.S. Or perhaps Parkinson’s.
She stops feeding and waits.
The shaking gets so bad that he starts rocking in different directions. It’s not hard for her to watch. She talks to him like nothing is wrong. And even though he flails, even though the eyes of the restaurant are watching, she’s unaffected.
Finally, he calms down. She feeds him again. She dabs his chin with a napkin. She touches his forehead. She grins at him.
His face breaks out in a smile.
When he’s finished eating, she eats her own food—which must be cold by now. But she doesn’t mind cold food. He makes conversation while she cleans her plate.
When they stand to leave, he holds her arm. They shuffle outside. I see them through the window, in the parking lot. It’s an ordeal fitting Old Blue Eyes into the front seat. She buckles him in.
Their tail lights disappear.
I don’t know how long they’ve been married. I don’t know which county they’re from, I don’t even know their names.
I don’t know if they have kids, pets, mutual funds, or bizarre political views. And I don’t care.
Because I know their type. I know they made promises long ago. To stay together. Good days and bad. To cherish the easy living along with the hell on earth. To visit Cracker Barrels off interstates together. To feed each other in public, if need be. Better or worse. In sickness and in health. Richer or poorer.
Until death do they part.
We tend to pity couples like that. We are wrong. They found, and are living, something most of us spend great amounts of time seeking….true abiding love. God bless them.
“I “young and hopeful” take you “even younger and idealized”, ... for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health ...”., How many young couples and some older ones as well, have I led through those vows. No matter the pre-marital efforts to teach deeper truths about marriage somethings one just has to live through to learn and grow those covenantal commitments. Not all make it to this couple’s maturity in the deeper wealth of marriage. My Bride and I are in such a season of “sickness and in health”. I am the beneficiary of her deep love and even deeper commitment for me. It has taken the fullness of 45 years we have invested in those promises to sustain and deepen the bond and beauty of the love that now sustains us in the living out of these days. I believe it reflects God’s love and His commitment to us. I believe that when we see walking examples such love, as this couple offered the world, we are curious and moved and drawn to it. It’s Godly Love imbued in and available to all of us to offer one another. Okay sermonette over just needed to see these thoughts in text ... to be reminded this morning if their realities and their truth.