Forty-seven years ago today Keith Moore and I stood at the altar and said “I do” — it was that back then, not “I will” — to a future we knew, like all couples, utterly nothing about. We were broken people adept at not showing it, like vases with a thousand hairline fractures still holding it together in a sturdy display case. Both in other committed, more compatible relationships that did considerably less to trigger us.
Then we met. Dear Lord. Like magnets.
Like we’d found our match.
The thing about marriage is that it’s too immediate, too close, not to expose the real you, not to ultimately bring out the worst in you. Too intense not to tap the fractures hard and often enough to make them tremble and, well,
collapse.
But maybe with people like Keith and me, that was the point.
Blessed are you if you have the God of Jacob for your help. The God who renames you by a distant-future you only heaven can see. The God who picks a fight with you in the long dark night to see if you’ll let go. To see if you’ll have guts enough to ask him to bless you. Then sends you forth into the horizon to yet another unknown day, the sun rising to warm your night-chilled body, the road rising to meet your limping gait.
Keith’s not awake yet. But I always get up early on our anniversary and write to the Lord about all of this because, at the end of the day, making it to this day each year is as much about God and me as Keith and me.
I don’t have marital advice. We are not your examples. There are much better couples to hear from. Healthier. But in just a little while, a sleepy man with thinning gray hair will stumble toward the coffee maker and, while he’s not looking, I will sneak in behind him and see a 22 year old waiting for me at that altar, so handsome, smiling wide. I will walk over to him and put my arms — skin loosened by age, joints swollen a bit by arthritis — around his decidedly thicker waist and he will say
good morning, Baby,
kiss me on the head, and ask if I want him to make me another cup of coffee.
And I will say, I do.
As the 23rd graduation countdown continues, I, Olive, eagerly await my August graduation. With a mass media and communication degree, I'm now living my dream as a news anchor and reporter at RBA. The journey hasn’t been easy, but perseverance paid off. Grateful to God and MKU for the unwavering support. I eagerly embrace the next chapter of my life and the challenges and successes it will bring. Excited for the future! 🎓😊~Olive Ntete, 23rd August Graduating Class
Not only do we go back to work, we swallow it all: the pain, frustration, fear, depression, anger...of our patients and their families...
Then we go home to our families and act as if nothing happened, plus its movie night 😊
May God bless all Nurses, PT, NPA, Drs and students 🙏
dear God,
This year was hard. Some of us are still processing grief at the same time wondering if better will come in 2023. Some of us have experienced set backs without answers and dark days.
Remind us that love still comforts and liberates those searching for hope.
Amen
This Sunday, @umubyey_rw will host its first ever #TheBeSpace on #Mentalhealth, which will help empower mothers, families and communities in assessing and looking after maternal mental health so as to improve pregnancy outcomes.
Registration link
➡️https://t.co/dOxolXyAFP
Reason why we should talk about Maternal Mental Health!
If you haven't registered to #TheBespace upcoming event,Today is a good day to do so!
Check the Pinned Tweet @umubyeyi_rw for Details!
@annet_mwizerwa Force à ton coeur Gem❤️ as you journey through this life.Hoping and praying that at last you get to know its meaning and with it you fully live to that.