Wedding anniversary reflections- the message of the wreath
Whatever faith you have or don't have, whatever spirituality you hold, this message is for all of you who never made your 35th wedding anniversary, or fear you won’t. Who look at the ‘twenty years ago today, luckiest man/ woman alive’ posts and wonder why that isn’t your experience.
My wedding and eternity rings are traded in, I am honoured my engagement ring is gracing my dearest daughter-in-law’s finger. I have held onto almost nothing from my 20-year marriage at Christmas 1990, but every year I put this one last symbol on my door on 1st December to remind me of the love once shared that produced my two beloved children: the wreath my bridesmaids carried down the aisle that day.
Its evergreens remind us of resurrection, the hope that in the bleakness of winter, all is not dead. The berries remind us of the sacrifice Jesus made for us, loving us to the cruellest death, and the circle reminds us of God’s everlasting love for every single one of us his children, however and whoever we are. Commitment. Covenant. Sacrifice. To me, despite the pain of the past, that’s still a symbol worth sharing.
When I came to get it out of my shed last week, I discovered to my horror, desperate mice had clearly partied hard in the snow. The nutters had eaten most of the berries down to shreds of white polystyrene. I have no idea why, when I have a garden full of delicious berries? The paint chemicals and materials were surely poisonous, but there in front of me was the clearest picture of all those toxic things that destroyed my marriage, and all the unhealthy actions and beliefs which nibbled away at our relationship over the years.
I married on 1st December, Advent Saturday, 35 years ago. I was 24 and had been dating for five months, engaged after five weeks. A typical evangelical Christian courtship, sold on what I now believe as a deconstructing, ex-vangelical progressive, to be a deeply unhelpful ‘patriarchal protestant purity prosperity’ gospel. A lifetime of happiness in return for sticking to ‘the rules’: working hard, praying hard and submitting gracefully.
One issue- our imperfect, often flawed, damaged humanity. Imperfections. Mistakes. Our wounds, our traumas, our addictions, our unhealthy coping mechanisms, our disfunctions, dysregulation, dissociations, neural diversity, even personality differences. There’s a lot to work through… and it takes honesty, vulnerability, willingness, focus, effort, community support and in many cases external therapeutic expertise- for and from both parties. I am truly sorry if this has been your experience.
As we enter advent, the season of waiting, I stand with those of you who are still waiting for redemption in any area of your life and relationships. With those of you struggling to hold on, or wondering if you can or should. Whose relationships are painful, not positive. Who have sacrificed and submitted until you lost yourself. And especially those whose faith keeps them in those unhealthy relationships without adequate boundaries.
Many of you know I have been through many trials which were certainly not in my Christian or any relational playbook. Many times I have felt like a one-woman soap opera. Abandonment, separation, divorce, death, financial hardship, betrayal, loss, grief. And after years of various forms of often painfully reflective therapy for which (and to those who listened and supported) I am eternally grateful, I have finally come to recognise I am the happiest I have ever been with my quiet simple life, because I am the most content I have ever been within myself. I like the person the hardships have made me: more empathic, less judgmental, more reflective, more understanding, more questions than answers these days.
I almost threw my wreath away in disgust on seeing the depressing mess, but then I remembered a lovely local florist who had helped me in the past and threw myself on Sophie’s mercy. In just three days, this master of her trade had resurrected the wreath, replacing the scarred berries, moving the pieces around for pleasing symmetry, until the whole looked not just as good, but better than before.
On my 35th wedding anniversary, it is back in its rightful place on my door. Humans can get love oh so wrong, but for me, this wreath- and its resurrection- is still a symbol of the everlasting, perfect love Jesus came to offer all of us at Christmas. Whatever your faith or none, that's surely a message worth hearing?
