The Poem I Left at Home: For Marnie on Our Tenth Wedding Anniversary

Marnie,

Earlier this morning I was trying to think about what I might write, what one thing begs to be said on this our tenth wedding anniversary. Something about the occasion seems to raise the stakes and put pressure on me and my words. I do this to myself, I know. I’m tempted to think it might be best not to write anything at all. Would silence be preferable to a failed attempt at being profound and poignant? It might be, but I know that such thoughts are wrong because they mean I’m more concerned about being seen as “good” at this, rather than concerned with saying something true to you on this day.

I opted not to write a poem – but I found one that started me thinking about our decade of marriage and the love we’ve nurtured across three states and among two other little people who demand their share of what we need to be giving each other.

The poem was by Wendell Berry (yes, the only poet I’ve actually read) and it was called “The Mad Farmer’s Love Song.” Romantic title, yes? It was a short poem and my intent was to reproduce it here for you. That plan went south once I left the house without the book – a fact that itself has meaning for me; meaning which I hope to share with you in a moment.

The poem basically said that when there is peace in the world and all the work has been done "then I will go down unto my love." And then it added a line that said that said something like, “and I might just go down several times before then.”

Love doesn’t wait for perfect conditions: peace in the world, all the work done, plenty of money in the bank, perfect health. There is something in us that wants all the pieces neatly in place, and then we can give ourselves to the business of loving another person.

But the last line of the poem seems to embrace reality and in doing so it embraces the way love and marriage truly are; we don’t wait for peace in the world and tidy conclusions to all the lose ends and complexities of life. We love now. We love in the midst of laundry and meetings and practices and home-repair. Just this morning you spoke to me of how complicated our days can be. Most of them are – but they are the setting into which the diamond is placed, the gift of life and love that God allows us to share.

On this day that marks our tenth year of marriage I know there is no time for waiting. I also know myself well enough to know how inclined I am to wait and anticipate the turns in life that will free me up to love you better. Maybe that means the kids being older, maybe that means being less distracted by my ambitions. I fear that too often over the past ten years I’ve waited and lost time in loving you as I should.

Leaving the poem at home was probably a good thing. The conditions for writing my thoughts were not what I had planned – not as smooth as I wanted to sound.

But I write for you anyway. This day is moving by quickly, as all the others have since we made our vows; days that have not slowed in the least since we welcomed our Son and moved to North Carolina and welcomed our daughter and moved again to Atlanta and bought our first home and continued to make a life together. Knowing how quickly ten years has passed, there is no time for waiting.

Today I am the “Mad Farmer.” I will not wait for peace in the world and finished tasks and all just right. I will go to you my love several times, often even, before then. I will speak my love to you at the risk of sounding plain. With these words I do so now.