Not so long ago, I was under the impression that the classic "mid-life crisis" was about vanity. Such a phase, I supposed, was the sphere of the youth-obsessed and the worldly, the self-absorbed and the shallow.
The aging socialite going in for a nip and tuck and the graying executive behind the wheel of a brand new Porsche were, to my way of thinking, the poster children for this type of infantile and downright embarrassing late-life episode.
That was before over a dozen happy, harried, hurried years fled by, leaving behind a bewildered woman in her late thirties wondering what ever happened to the time that once seemed to stretch out indefinitely, time I thought would leave numberless opportunities to live out all my plans, to have babies, to write books, time to dream a million dreams and accomplish every one.
Pondering the dizzying rapidity of these years, my mind turned to a specific point in the past. I was twenty-four years old and wearing a dark pink suit with gold buttons. My long hair was curled, and I smiled at the world, pausing now and then to laugh with friends, stepping across a large reception hall, being introduced for the first time to a tall twenty-five year old man….
Looking back upon that blessed moment, I shed a single, almost inexplicable, tear, a tear born not out of any sentiment or sorrow. It was a tear for that long-haired girl. I could read her story now and knew she would have a happy and blessed life, but where was she? Was I still that girl, or was she gone, vanished in the hazy blur of memory?
(Now I realize this thought sounds just as trite and vain and silly as ever a mid-life crisis could, but there is more.)
At that very moment, my husband strode into the living room, mercifully unaware of the deep thoughts scattered round the place like spare throw pillows, plunked down beside me and our placid baby girl on the couch, and said, "Honey, I love you. I have loved you since the first time I met you."
I am chuckling to think of it now, feeling a bit like the dramatically swooning woman from an old movie speedily treated with smelling salts, or perhaps just a swift pat on the back and an urgent "snap out of it!" Of course I was still that girl — he knew me even without the curls and the gold buttons. In that instant, I saw more clearly than ever before how Christ, through the sacrament of Holy Matrimony, measures out His grace and mercy:
Christ dwells with them, gives them the strength to take up their crosses and so follow Him, to rise again after they have fallen, to forgive one another, to bear one another's burdens, to be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ, and to love one another with supernatural, tender, and fruitful love. In the joys of their love and family life he gives them here on earth a foretaste of the wedding feast of the Lamb" –Catechism of the Catholic Church, Section 1642.
Thus, a perfectly good, budding mid-life crisis was stopped in its tracks, all through Grace and a well-timed kindness.
If I were to attempt to put into words this bittersweet and beautiful time of our life, with the children all still home and a baby asleep in my arms, I would compare it to a long anticipated trip up a mountain. At the outset of the journey, the mountain seemed so grand and imposing. I could not even see the top of it. Much preparation and thought were put into the trip, and my husband and I set out excitedly, confident that endless adventure lay before us, certain we would explore each peak and ridge for a thousand years. Then, before we had even mounted the first hill, I realized we were already at the top with seven dear traveling companions. The summit is sunny and warm, and we are all in a circle round the campfire, yet I am surprised to see that the view beyond is not as far as I had understood it to be. Hold on a minute, I falter, this was supposed to be a long, long trip. How is it the end seems so near?
Just as I am about to feel crestfallen, my husband passes me a pair of binoculars. Lifting them to my eyes, the exuberance returns, for I can see there is more beyond this paltry hill, miles more — the vista goes on forever, rolling and sweeping into the distance, with faraway peaks dappled in a rosy mist only hinting at the endless expedition to come.
It turns out our dear little hill is but a stepping stone, a threshold to a Land of far Greater Promise, our merry campfire a foretaste of the jubilation and cheer to come.
But, for now, how blessed we are to bask in its glow together.
October 29th, 2007 at 12:19 am
What a wonderful article. Not too long ago, I was lying next to my husband in the waning hours before sleep creeps in. My husband told me how blessed he was to have me as his wife. We are both in our mid-fifties and it is easier now to see our lives in retrospect and realize how rapdily our lives are going along. I told him that if he died before me how sad I would be without him. His response was so wonderful, he told me he would be waiting to greet me and to remember this time we have together is only a tiny image of the joy we will experience together in Heaven as husband and wife. The Sacrament of Marriage is truly God's gift to us, for it allows us to know in a very small way the glorious relationship Christ has for His Church of which we are all members. Each day is a wondrous joy towards that ultimate Journeys end.
October 29th, 2007 at 2:16 am
There is no marriage in Heaven.
October 29th, 2007 at 6:54 am
I believe Our Lord says "none are taken or given in marriage" in Heaven. This suggests to me that no new marriage covenants are joined in Heaven. Some interpret this to mean that there are no sexual relations in Heaven. But Our Lord tells Peter that what is bound on earth is bound in Heaven. While we can't be exactly sure what is intended for our spouses, and recognizing that marriage vows are fulfilled at the death of a spouse, I like to think that they will remain joined to us in a platonic familial way in the same sense that I would expect my parents to still be my parents.
I might also point out that Heaven is not our final destination. Heaven is the holding tank until the Resurrection when we will be joined to our redeemed bodies. Since God has communicated clearly that our bodies will be part of the new Jerusalem, I find it very plausable to infer that sacramental marriage and procreation may be part of that plan, as it was in Eden …
October 29th, 2007 at 7:34 am
There is a marriage in heaven, it is the marriage of the Lamb of God with His bride, the Church.
"In the joys of their love and family life he gives them here on earth a foretaste of the wedding feast of the Lamb" (CCC 1642)
The Church "longs to be united with Christ, her Bridegroom, in the glory of heaven" where she "will rejoice on day with [her] Beloved, in a happiness and rapture that can never end" (CCC, n. 1821)
"For man, this consummation will be the final realization of the unity of the human race, which God willed from creation….Those who are united with Christ will form the community of the redeemed, 'the holy city' of God, 'the Bride, the wife of the Lamb'" (CCC, n.1045)
Stirling: Read John Paul II's Theology of the Body or Christopher West's Theology of the Body explained. There is nothing in Church teaching to suggest that there will be sacramental marriage after death.
October 29th, 2007 at 7:44 am
Alice Gunther Cottage Blessings http://alice.typepad.com
October 29th, 2007 at 9:49 am
God loves you .
G.K.Chesterton made the point that we really only mature in middle-age – that it takes until then to notice that, even as the road (horizon, vista) seems to be ending, it is lined so with hope. For one thing, it is in hope that we embrace our temporal end and eternal Home.
As a widower, I can attest that there would be more signs of hope if my life partner was still around. However, the rest of the signs – plenty of them – are there because Christ leads me on, and His Spirit keeps adding signs.
Marriage as we know it ends here – it is Sacramental gift for this pilgrimage to share it with spouse and family. But, you cannot even suggest to me that the very intimate friendship that is nurtured between spouse and spouse – a great relationship of abiding grace helping our Lord Jesus to save both – does not go on, and on, and on . . .
(I warn you that you may have to adapt to dance steps that include our Holy Spirit, SO delighted to have you with Him.)
Remember, I love you, too .
In the Suffering of Christ, and in His hope of His Resurrection,
Pristinus Sapienter
(wljewell @catholicexchange.com or … yahoo.com)
October 29th, 2007 at 6:04 pm
Hi, Warren. Welcome back. Wondered where you had gotten off to.
October 29th, 2007 at 6:49 pm
"Mr. Jewell" – your comments reflect a love and wisdom that few seem to grasp nowadays. I hope I can attain something close to that in my time here.
The devil's snare doesn't catch you unless you're already nibbling on the Devil's bait. -St. Ambrose of Milan
October 30th, 2007 at 6:19 am
Alice Gunther Cottage Blessings http://alice.typepad.com
October 30th, 2007 at 3:58 pm
God loves you .
M’Lady Kochan, et al,
Getting acceleratingly older, spiritually wiser and – I guess – prayerfully ‘ready’ in some physical and psychic ways . . .
Even my Medicare-Advantage insurer is sending me letters to ‘get to your doctor!’ ?!?!?!? WOOF!
I nap more than Internet, lately . . .
jdminer – Thank God, my friend – do you think that I could come up with such humble power without His input? (HAH!) – Yet, I am pleased that you were graciously and gently affected by His Way in me . . .
Same goes for you, Mrs. and Mr. Gunther – the Spirit treats my keyboard like some new fangled sacramental, sometimes. Don’t you, too, find Him that way with your authorship?
Remember, I love you, too .
In the Suffering of Christ, and in His hope of His Resurrection,
Pristinus Sapienter
(wljewell @catholicexchange.com or … yahoo.com)