Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediment. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
Love's not time's fool. O, no,
It is an ever fixed mark
Which looks on tempests and is not shaken.
It is the star to every wandring bark....

And that's what comes out of my feeble memory from ninth grade English class as I think about the mysterious man in the photo above. (I promise to give the real thing, Shakespeare's version, at the end, and it will be interesting to see what 26 years did to the poor sonnet!)

When I was in ninth grade, we had to do a poetry notebook, and I chose that poem because even at that age, I yearned for something or someone who did not alter when it alteration finds. That looks on tempests and is not shaken.

Because the truth is, life brings a lot of alterations, a lot of tempests. And I tend to feel pretty shaken up sometimes, and certainly did in the ninth grade.

When I read the poem back then, I thought about God and His love. He was the ever-fixed mark in my life.

And He still is.

And while no human being should ever be expected to take that place, or to give ultimate stability, I have to say that the tall, dark (at least in this photo), handsome man pictured above comes as close to being an ever-fixed mark as just about anybody could.

Once my nephew drew a picture of us.

The figure to the left has long, tall legs; is about twice as tall as the other; and as in children's drawings, the feet are even, at the bottom of the page.

The figure on the right is smaller. You can tell it's the woman because he gave it longer hair. The legs are bent as if dancing, and the feet are nowhere near the "ground."

I marveled at the child's perception. How did he know I generally don't quite have my feet on the ground?

My better half does, however. And not only are his feet solidly on the ground; but his heart is also grounded.

And so, fifteen years after kneeling on the ground for prayer at our wedding, we are still standing together. And I am thankful.

And I guess next time I'll say more about the anniversary itself. But tonight I want to say thank you to my love, who is not time's fool, who has been through several tempests with me and who is still there.

And now, as Shakespeare put it . . . .

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

. . .Well, as you can see, the ideas stayed with me longer than the words themselves did! I'm sure being near the edge of doom several times did something to my memory.

And thanks to the God, the real Unaltering One, who has given us the grace needed for these fifteen years.