To have and to hold, from this day forward.
For better, for worse. 
For richer, for poorer.
In sickness and in health.
To love and to cherish, from this day forward.
Until death do us part. 

 

I wonder how many of us truly consider these words when we speak them.  This iconic snippit of poetry seals the marriages of countless couples daily.  And yet. Over-done and over-played, many of us write our own vows when presented the chance–not because the traditional vows are pointless, but because we think we can do better. We leave behind the patter of traditional promises without giving them much thought. In our own words, in our own ways we promise futures we cannot deliver. And I can’t help but wonder, what bits do we leave out and what does that say about us?

It will probably surprise you, but 19 years ago I did not choose to write my own vows. IZ and I had a very traditional wedding–exactly what I would expect of my 20 year old self. Nothing like what I’d do today. And I’ll admit,  I paid no more attention to those words than the next teenage bride. I meant every word, then and now. But I didn’t understand the complexity  and honestly, the down right horror involved in these simple promises.  

I’m not alone. Weddings are by nature moments of optimism. We stand, before families and communities or in some cases in front of strangers and  Elvis impersonators, and we look forward to futures filled with promises very different than the vows we take. We see hope, we seek joy. We know love and passion. We claim fidelity and companionship. And we forsake all others for this one beside us. For the moment, at least. And while the poetry  belies the future, we gloss over those reminders–our hearts screaming with our whole selves: I DO. I DO!

Very few marriages begin in sickness. Most of us take the health part for granted. We know better and worse and we encounter richer and poorer in stride. But the health. We don’t notice that until it sits in direct contrast with its poetic mate, sickness. It’s only then, we realize just what we’ve promised. Just  what we’ve lost.

In a moment’s notice, in a few simple words, “I think maybe, I need to go see my doctor. Today,” health slips from our fingers. We did not notice its presence, but we feel its absence intensely. Gone is our sense of security. Absent is our sense of wholeness. A deep hole has been gouged in our psyche and sickness settles in with a dull ache. And sickness does not travel alone, but brings with her a set of companions: fear, regret, panic, desperation, and despair. 

Time in countless waiting rooms provides what is missing in our wedding ceremonies: perspective. Time, ever the enemy, gives us a small gift–a momentary glimpse into a future we cannot deliver. Swirling in the mist of our fear and uncertainty are all the moments of the past, all the potential for the future. All the promises we made in hope. All the vows we keep in love. This far in the journey, we can see with clarity today what we could only promise in hope before. We discover, it is in sickness that we truly appreciate what love brings to our lives. 

And we vow, again, to love forever. We hold, we cherish. We bring countless cups of tea. We reach out in the darkness to hold a sleeping hand, whispering prayers of healing. Willing the universe to deliver a future we cannot. We enter into the limbo of waiting, accompanied not only by fear, but by the knowledge that love triumphs. 

And somehow, we summon the courage to move on–from this day forward.