MARRIAGE AND THE QUESTION GAME

So Milton and I are in Savannah celebrating our anniversary this past Monday, and of all the restaurants in that charming city to eat in, we choose…tah dah…TV cook Paul Deen's The Lady and Sons. They only take reservations for parties of 10 or more. Otherwise, you wait with 200 other people for a chance to get inside. But when I tell the reservations host it's our anniversary, she says with that lovely Georgia accent, "I'll reserve a spot for you."

So we're sitting there in The Lady and Sons, eating our fried chicken and cracker salad—we chose the country-style buffet over the menu items—when Milton says, "We're going to play a game."

"A game?"

He nods, a mischievous look in his eyes. "It's called The Question Game. I ask a question. You answer."

"Okay," I say hesitantly.

"What's the funniest thing that's ever happened in our marriage?"

This is really neat. I feel like we're on our first date, trying to get to know each other, and a doodad crawls down my spine. "My 'I See Somebody Story.'" (Note: This is a hilarious thing that happened to me; it was published in the book Help! I'm A Pastor's Wife.)

A look of recollection fills his eyes, and he smiles.

"And another funny time was when I said _________________." (Note: This is none of your business; but a clue is, I'm noted among our family and close friends for saying innocent faux pas that crack everybody up.)

"I laughed harder than I've ever laughed when you said that." He's laughing now. "I almost fell on the floor, I was laughing so hard. The rest of the guys were too."

I roll my eyes, remembering the awful moment when I felt like sewing my lips shut.

"What's the funniest thing I've ever done in our marriage?" he asks.

"Way back, when you were a real young preacher, and you were trying to get a Bible college professor to attend our church, and he and his wife finally came to visit one Sunday, and you preached on the man that was borne of four, and the Bible says he was a paralytic, but you had him having leprosy, and you described leprosy in gory, intricate detail, how it eats your fingers and toes off, and how you used to see missionary films about leprosy when you were a kid, and I'm sitting there squirming, knowing how mixed up your sermon is…"

We're laughing pretty hard now.

"I don’t know why in the world I did that," he says. "I knew as sure as I'm sitting here that that passage in the Bible was about a paralytic not a leper."

"Maybe you were nervous that this well-known Bible scholar was visiting that day."

He shrugs. "Okay. Time for the next question. What's the thing you love the most about me?"

I don't have to think about it. "It's when you're tender to me, and patient with me, for example, that Saturday you helped me move our wall unit, and it took you three trips to the hardware store to get the right size of those slider things, and yet you were so patient and kind and tender. That just thrilled me. And then when you wrote that article about me in last Sunday's bulletin, well, it made me love you so much. Okay," I say, "let me ask you that question. What's the thing you love the most about me?"

"When you show respect and support and appreciation for who I am and what I do…and when you express confidence in me." He pauses. "Next question. What can I do to make you happy?"

"I'll tell you when we get back to our room."

His eyebrows go up and down over eyes oozing sensuality. He's got this half smile, and his eyebrows keep going up and down. It's an endearing mannerism I've grown to love. I know if I were sitting close to him, I'd feel his heart pumping hard. I feel that shy, new bride feeling sweeping over me.

"In our room, huh?" he says.

"Not that," I exclaim, knowing full well what he's thinking, and knowing what I'm thinking, that I have a sweet article on marriage I want to read to him. And what I'm thinking and what he's thinking don't match up, and it tickles me, and I laugh, and then he laughs, and a few heads turn our way. "'Course that's not all I have in mind when we get back."

His eyebrows do their little trick again. "Let's go now."

We laugh again.

"Next question," he says, when our laughter subsides. "What's meant the most to you about our marriage?"

"That you've always been faithful to me, and that I can count on you to be there for me, and that I never have to doubt you, and that I know that you're true to your word. Now, let me ask you. What's meant the most to you about our marriage?"

"It's two parts. The love and commitment and faithfulness you've shown to me, plus the fact that it hasn't been all about us, that we've spent our entire married lives helping others. We did it together, our ministry, helping people, our television ministry together, our pastoral ministry, writing articles together, speaking together, helping pastors when we were in denominational leadership work…"

A memory washes over me, and I see people parading across my mind, all the individuals we've comforted down through the years and encouraged and helped and consoled. I see the family we comforted when their teenage son was killed in a car accident, and I see the young 20-something mother and father of the baby we buried, and I see the elderly lady whose house we reroofed, and the single mom whose siding we repainted, and right there, in Paula Deen's restaurant, I start crying. Tears stream down my face, and at that moment…

…the waiter appears. "Would you like some more sweet iced tea?"

###

Shortly, another waiter comes to our table. "I understand you two are celebrating your anniversary?"

"Yes," we say.

"May I sing a song for you?"

"We'd love it," we say.

He takes a singer's pose, neck extended, hands clasped in front of him, and strikes out. It's a fairly good rendition of I Can't Help Falling In Love With You.

Lyrics: "Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can't help falling in love with you. Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be. Take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can't help falling in love with you."

###

Oh, the ghost I mentioned in my blog post, "Anniversary Trip to Savannah"? Well, we didn't encounter a ghost in this historic city. But we definitely encountered a spirit. An evil one. Maybe I'll blog about it sometime. Or maybe it'll appear in a novel someday. Who knows? (Note: The Holy Spirit prevailed, however. The Bible says, "Greater is he that is in me, than he that is in the world.")