As I edit through dozens of “stories of hope” for my next book (still untitled), I wanted to share with you today one of the contributions I received, not because it is the most dramatic or because it has the most miraculous turnaround (I have plenty of those in my inbox as well), but because this one is so beautiful in its simplicity. The story is told from the perspective of the daughter, a woman whom I now call a friend. There are more details that I’ll be including later, but for now, here is her story of her parents’ marriage and their legacy….
Two Hundred Years of Marriage
My parents contributed to 200 years of marriage.
In the 1960s and ‘70s there was so much turmoil, uncertainty, arguing, screaming, throwing, pounding on tables, crying, accusing, and threats of divorce in our home of nine. The marriage began in 1952, with the first son born exactly nine months later, the next son in 1954, the third son in 1955, then I was the first daughter born in 1958, the fourth son in 1959, the fifth son in 1963, and the sixth son in 1967. There were seven of us, 15 years apart. We were the largest family on our post-WWII bungalow-lined street.