When Your Anniversary is on Father’s Day

Today is my twenty-ninth wedding anniversary and it also happens to be Father’s Day. Since getting married help make me a father and my actual Dad did our wedding (the parts where he wasn’t crying) . . . the two things fit together nicely. I am fairly sure my Dad likes Hope at least as much as he likes me. They both love each other.

I did not realize what a blessing that is until I ran into other situations. I should have know this, because the Bible is full of families that God called, but were, to put it mildly, on the dysfunctional side. Things have not always worked out for us the way central Christian movie casting would have it, but the relationship between my Dad (and my Mom) and Hope has worked out.

This matters more than I thought, so call this a warning to the romantics out there (such as I was). If you are close to your parents (not everybody is), try to marry someone that your parents also like. Safe to say, this seemed utterly unimportant to me at twenty-two (like other things I should have noticed), but it matters. When Hope and I have been at the bottom, and we have been there, the fact that my Dad was for us mattered. I came home once and he sent me back to Hope. He had known her most of her life, knew she was not perfect, knew I was not perfect, but had a basic “liking” of us and of her that helped me.

If I had not been a person who views his Dad as a hero, and I do, it might have mattered less, but this has mattered a great deal. Dad thought we should get married and he has pulled for us at every turn.

I think about this whenever my kids bring home a date. They like the person and so my job is to find what it is they like or love. My initial job is not to judge. My adult children must be trusted to make their choices and I must work over time (as my Dad worked) to love and admire the person they have chosen. What if I cannot? What if, after time, the potential spouse seems rotten?

This is a hard question and my Dad answered it for me by holding his opinion until I asked. When I asked, he told me, even if what he said was hard. He was willing to tell me what was wrong with me (generally the issue) when compared to the beloved. He thought Hope was good for me and so it has proven to be, but he never said she was faultless. Dad was realistic always, but he was blunt.

He liked Hope and said so when I asked. If he had not, he would have said so (trust me) and I would have had to weigh his opinion. What would I have done? I suspect I would not have gotten married to a person my Mom and Dad were convinced was the wrong choice for me. They would have set me free to choose. I also know that if I had chosen against their opinion, the moment we were married, they would have moved on. Both Mom and Dad would have pulled for us and done their best to support us.

Thanks Mom and Dad.

Could I do the same? Can I love someone I find “unlovable” when I am not the one called to be married to them? I trust so. Would I give my opinion about a potential spouse if one of the kids asked? I hope so, but I hope it would be freeing and not tyrannical. My goal with my adult children is to give advice when asked and support when I can. When they do dishonorable things (if they do), then I must do what my parents did when I acted badly: they loved me, called me to get right in that area, but loved and supported me in every other area. I cannot imagine my parents ever cutting off financial help . . . even when they did not approve . . . unless financial irresponsibility was the problem I faced.

Parenting as Dad modeled it for me (and as I have imperfectly imitated) is liberating other human beings to become full members of the Body of Christ. To parent is to let go of authority over time until all that is left is love. My adult children long ago ceased to have to obey me . . . and they must honor me only where I have been honorable.

Being a couple is not the same as being a parent except in this basic relational way: my job is to set Hope free to be Hope. Whatever her duty is to me, I must never demand it. I must love her and make her life one of flourishing. When I get tired and fail, become cranky, demanding, or just weary, then I look back to the relationship between Mom and Dad (53 years!) and try again. Marriage is trying again to set the beloved free.

So Dad . . . in an odd way this Father’s Day you made my anniversary possible. You presided over the wedding and you set an example of love beyond romance and duty. You loved us and Mom: always. And Hope: you are true and good. You looked to Mom and Dad and have always cared for them and followed their example. You loved my Dad and in loving him saw better how to love his son.

Family doesn’t always work, not for us or for anyone, but when it does work, then it is obvious why we all strive for the ideal family.Happy Father’s Day, Dad. We are leaving now . . . so I can say, “Happy Anniversary, Hope.”  . . . even on this plane.