The Joy of Remarrying Later in Life

For the month of November, the editors at Grit + Grace, an online women’s magazine, requested that we, the regular writers, consider drafting an article starting with “The joy of …”—as in, the joy of being a mother-in-law, the joy of raising teens, the joy of being a military wife. Grit + Grace has been posting these pieces as a different twist on the traditional thanksgiving articles.

I submitted one entitled, “The joy of remarrying later in life”—posted here as a reminder of the simple pleasures and joys we get to embrace every day, but maybe sometimes forget to see them for what they are.

The joy of …

Dan and I both marvel at how easy it was to transition from widowhood to being married again—almost as if we’d known each other all our lives. And oh, the joy of remarrying later in life. Because when you lose a good thing, and then goodness eventually replaces the loss, it seems so much sweeter.

It’s not that I meant to take anything for granted in my first marriage. But as the years passed, I got used to the stability and the faithfulness and the companionship.

And then I found myself doing interstate road trips alone. And snowshoeing the trails in the Cascades alone. And holding Friday date night alone (I know … pathetic, but it was part of my brave-making campaign).

And now …

… the astonishment of a road-trip companion—exploring far-off places and still liking each other after six weeks in a small van.

… the glee of having someone who enjoys being outdoors as much as I do—hiking, camping, kayaking. No need to call a friend to let her know what trailhead I was at, and that if she didn’t hear from me in four hours, to send out a search party.

… the delight of cooking for two. Because when you’re single, it’s more like a salad or watermelon for dinner. Or popcorn. You don’t want to know how many times I had popcorn for dinner during my widowed years. And now the delight of conjuring up meals for this man who loves to eat.

… the pleasure of gardening together. Alone, yard work is yard work. And when you’re young and married and having babies, yardwork is one more thing to check off your to-do list. But later in life, there is pleasure in planting trees together, and digging a dry creek together, and lining it with stones, and building a whimsical, little bridge across it—together being the operative word.

… the marvel of conversations, of knowing I can say anything to this man, and he will guard it closely.

… the joy of being held and adored, sharing our own little signals and hints and mysterious smiles, knowing I can make this man laugh as he makes me laugh.

Helper, rescuer, protector

Genesis records how God used his creativity and then surveyed all he had made. He noticed only one thing that was not good and then came up with a solution:

“Then the Lord God said, ‘It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.’” – Genesis 2:18

You might be interested to know that the original Hebrew word for “helper” is ezer, which means, “help, rescuer, protector.”

When God saw that Adam was lonely, He created someone who would be fiercely protective of love and family and home. He created someone who would come alongside the man—not as subservient but as rescuer.

This thought from BibleStudyTools.com:

“The creation of woman as a helper is an extension of God’s strength and help for man. She is his way of turning ‘not good’ into ‘very good.’ Being man’s helper is an honor, a sign of strength, an admission that man needs help, and a God-given role for the woman.”

Oh, the joy (astonishment, glee, delight!) of coming alongside a good man with our combined years of experience and wisdom for the pleasure of serving each other and those within our reach. Together.