I'm taking a short reprieve from my usual blend of sassy cynicism to write about a love story that delivers more oohs and ahhs than the silver screen.
This year my grandparents will celebrate their 66th wedding anniversary. 66 years! Even as I type, I find myself shaking my head in a dazed disbelief. How can two people be married for 66 years? Maybe my questioning comes from the poisonous message of the current culture that validates an "I'm sick of it and want out" policy. Maybe it's because I don't really believe people can marry their high school sweetheart; don't we have to "discover ourselves" first? DeLores and Joe Ackert answer my skepticism with proof that I can't deny. 66 years after they said "I Do" they still stand by each other with unwavering loyalty and a love that I can't even begin to do justice with my feeble words.
About three years ago my cousin, Katie, and I stumbled upon a box full of old letters. When we looked closer at the letters, Katie and I both thought we had struck gold. The box contained hundreds of letters written by a young husband stuck overseas involved in a war that tore him away from his lovely bride for three years. Katie and I both vowed to type the letters and create some sort of a book for our family. The way in which our grandpa wrote brought tears to our eyes. Life has gotten in the way of our once ambitious plan to bring the love letters to life again, but my passion to tell their story has been renewed. Their health has been slowly declining and each day brings a new set of challenges. In the wake of my very own love lost, I have come to see the rare and priceless beauty in a love that defies all odds, years, and even wars. It's a love that makes me believe it can exist and trust that love really does overcome. It's a love story that begs to be told...and so...I will.
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. ~1 Corinthians 13:1
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