Last year, when things were normal (pre-Covid quarantine), my family and I had some conversations. I say “some” because when you live with men, conversations are crisp and curt. No issue is ever belabored. I know the exact moment when they tune off in the midst of my prattle.
Those “some” conversations had to do with my and my husband's 50th anniversary celebration. A golden anniversary is, after all, a milestone by any standard. In ancient days in northern Europe, a husband would gift his wife a beautifully crafted golden wreath, garland, or necklace. 
Why gold? It was the ultimate token of love then because it symbolized the lasting and prized nature of the passage of time.
My husband knows that my love for jewelry is gone with the wind, and our sons, like us, are not party people. During those “some” conversations, they mentioned about pooling their resources together to gift us with a Caribbean cruise, which is ideal for two people who could no longer stand a plane ride or walk long distances.
The pandemic changed all that.
But a 50th wedding anniversary is a rare occasion, considering the high number of separations, divorces, and living-in arrangements today. And so we celebrated with a simple lunch at home with me in my "gown" and Tony in his "tuxedo."
I look back to that day 50 years ago when we exchanged our vows before God in a small chapel in Quezon City. No frills, no guests, just immediate family. The only aliens were the old pastor who officiated the short ceremony and the photographer (smart phones were still an inspired thought), who took a total of 12 shots. Both begged off from the intimate thanksgiving dinner in a Chinese restaurant.
From that simple wedding 50 years ago to the golden celebration amidst the quarantine, we give thanks for the immeasurable grace that sustained Tony and me in our life journey as partners, parents, and now, grandparents.
“. . . what God has joined together, let not man separate.” (Mark 10:9 NKJV)
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