When you go to a movie, you know it’s a great movie when you can sit in the darkness with your popcorn and escape into someone else’s world for an hour and a half. Your world is forgotten for just a little while, and the story pulls you in. You feel what the characters in the movie feel. You get caught up in the sheer happiness, or the thrill, or the fear, or the unknown, or the ache of a heart…

A few months ago, we sat in the darkness of our small town USA movie theater and watched Lady Gaga get swept off her feet by Bradley Cooper. She was a young woman just getting by but with dreams for a better life, and he was a successful man with inner demons who was intrigued by her unique voice and personality…and as the movie unfolded, a star was born.

The last scene of the movie was the first tear shed in our row of two. I sat in the darkness, holding Sam’s hand in mine as Lady Gaga sang, “I’ll Never Love Again,” and I couldn’t help but correlate my feelings with hers.

And the tears wouldn’t stop.

Don’t wanna feel another touch
Don’t wanna start another fire
Don’t wanna know another kiss
No other name falling off my lips
Don’t wanna give my heart away
To another stranger
Or let another day begin
Won’t even let the sunlight in
No, I’ll never love again
I’ll never love again, oh, oh, oh, oh

We left the theater, both agreeing that it was SUCH a great movie. The cold air hit us in the face, we walked down the sidewalk to the winter dirty truck, got in, and life went back to normal.

*****

Normal for us means routine. Routine…with intention.

Sam goes to work every morning, and Rhonda goes to her computer. We have breakfast together, standing at the kitchen island. Same breakfast most every day: Rhonda, two eggs in a mug. Sam, vanilla yogurt with wheat germ. There is small talk about the day’s plans, maybe a little discussion about one of our children or our grandchildren. Sometimes, we talk about an ongoing remodel project.

Always, ALWAYS, there is a hug, a kiss, an “I love you,” and then I watch as Sam gets into the truck and drives away, both of us exchanging a wave, a thumbs up, and a “life is too short” sign.

After spending some time with a devotion and prayer, I make my way back upstairs in the quiet of the big house and start my work day. Usually, Sam “Skypes” me when he gets settled at his desk and just tells me “Good morning” and “Thanks for breakfast, dear.”

More often than not these days, he comes home for lunch, and we catch each other up on our work so far. He might take a quiet nap for 30 minutes, but we always repeat the goodbye routine at the door, and finish our work afternoons doing what we do.

*****

In this season of life, we have some friends and some family who are hurting. It seems that break ups or relationships on the brink are all around us right now. Couples who have quit communicating or maybe never began, couples who speak unkind words but never words of affection, who disagree about fundamental life issues, who have allowed outside influences affect their commitment to one another. Couples who fabricate a happy façade until the front door closes and no one else is watching. Couples who allowed life to take over and put God on the back burner.

We have been there.

We come from broken relationships.

But God took the ashes of our own destruction and failure and granted a miracle. He allowed us to find each other and gave us the gift of loving again. We both have learned from our past mistakes, failures, and sins. We know the roads that lead to the death of a relationship, and we have chosen to re-write that map.

*****

8 years…the miracle of 8 years, building a friendship based on wanting what was best for each other.

8 years of kind words.

8 years of holding hands in prayer.

8 years of going through the worst of times and the best of times, together.

And we still are amazed that life just gets better and better with each other. God is still blessing, still answering, still carrying us, one day at a time.

*****

Sam’s cancer is a gift.

I am so very grateful for Sam’s cancer. Without his diagnosis, we might have begun to let life pass us by, making our normal so unintentional. Now, every day, we are very aware how precious and brief this life is. Every day, we pay attention to each other.

Not everyone receives the gift of awareness. We’ve been given time – time to enjoy, time to appreciate, time to live with intention. We don’t have to do exciting things. We don’t have to cross off a bucket list of items.

Our normal is living with intention.

*****

Sam comes home from work, and when he walks in the door, he always says, “Hello?” if I am upstairs. If I am downstairs, I am standing at the door when he walks in. Always, ALWAYS, we greet each other with a kiss and a hug.

We work together to put dinner on the table. It’s not my “job,” any more than it is his to take out the trash. We take turns doing the laundry. We fold together. We make our bed together every morning. We work together to live life, to make a home, to live with intention.

Some evenings, Sam sets the table. He doesn’t put the silverware in the right order, but he does use placemats. Some evenings, he’s in charge of the potatoes because he’s best at potatoes, and I oversee the green beans, because I am best at fresh green beans. We sit at the table and always hold hands and take turns to pray. And at the end of our dinner prayer, we always look at each other and say, “Thank you.”

And then we compete to solve the Wheel of Fortune puzzle first.

*****

These days, the fire crackles in the fireplace as darkness descends on small town USA. Sam doesn’t have the same energy. Maybe it is the winter. He doesn’t like early darkness – it makes his brain think it is time to sleep. I like early darkness in the winter, because it means that I have “Sam time” on the couch, all to myself, instead of competing with his outdoor projects and lawn work.

We hold hands and watch the fire and a ballgame at the same time.

When I feel his hand twitch, I glance over to see him resting peacefully. His hair has thinned with the chemo poison. His cheekbones are more refined and slightly ashen. Is it the glow of the fire, or is that his new skin color? Our team has taken the lead – should I move slightly so he will wake up, or should I let him rest…

I listen to him breathe, not wanting this moment to pass by without intentional noticing. I pay attention to the warmth of his dry, winter hand in mine. I lean my head against his droop as a prop for his uninterrupted nap. I watch the ballgame for both of us, content and blessed.  

And he rests peacefully after a long day of work.

*****

We are living our normal. Lives lived with intention. A real life love story…

Don’t wanna feel another touch
Don’t wanna start another fire
Don’t wanna know another kiss
No other name falling off my lips
Don’t wanna give my heart away
To another stranger
Or let another day begin
Won’t even let the sunlight in
No, I’ll never love again
I’ll never love again, oh, oh, oh, oh