33 years ago...
On anniversaries and the act of remembering
“Oh my goodness, my brother looked so young!”
“Elizabeth, that was my grandmother!”
“How special that she was able to be there with you.”
“Oh no, the flower girl couldn’t throw the petals because she was holding the ring bearer’s hand.”
“My bouquet was so big!”
“I forgot you wore your hair up like that.”
“Aww, how sweet to see Grandpa walking Mom down the aisle.”
“Your mom was so beautiful!”
“Were you nervous?” I asked my dad.
“No, not at all.”
A few weeks ago, on the evening of their 33rd anniversary, my parents watched videos from their wedding day. We digitized all our home videos a few years ago, so we’ve seen these clips here and there—but somehow it still felt special.
It was as if they were reliving it all over again.
Two people—young and in love. Surrounded by people who adored them. Vowing to cherish each other and honor God with their union.
It was a day to remember. And we never tire of telling stories from that day.
Like our friend Rich, who raced to the ceremony after working until the very last minute to finish the wedding video he had poured so much care into. (We laughed watching him and his father-in-law sneak into the back of the chapel just in time.)
Or the groomsmen tossing a football back and forth—with the rings attached. A surprise to both the bride and the groom.
Or flower girl Jeanne lying on the floor during the first dance, staring up in awe at the beautiful couple.
These stories we tell again and again. These videos we watch again and again. Somehow it never feels overdone. How can you overdo something so sacred?
My favorite part of watching my parents’ wedding videos is seeing my dad’s reaction. He always tears up, his voice catching, as he tells me how beautiful Mom is. And in doing so, he is remembering that the woman who sits beside him is not just the person he shares a home with—she is his bride. And he falls in love with her all over again.
When we lose ourselves in the act of remembering—when we see just how far God has brought us and how faithful He has been—the burdens of the present don’t feel so heavy.
Of course, the challenges don’t disappear. Reminiscing doesn’t erase the pain of the present. But zooming out for a moment, remembering the beautiful chapters in our story, gives us the perspective we need to move through the hard rather than run from it. It reminds us that life is full of changing seasons—and the hard won’t last forever.
I see it there on the screen—the love they had for each other. The joy they felt as they began their life together.
Those two young adults had no idea what life would hold. They didn’t know they would raise two children, with sleepless nights of infancy and the mood swings of adolescence. They didn’t anticipate career transitions, health struggles, or the inevitable challenges of building a life together over decades.
But by the grace of God, here they sat 33 years later—side by side. A little worse for wear, a little more tired, a little greyer. But still together. And that is something to celebrate.
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