Rose was our next door neighbor. She was a widow, perhaps in her late seventies. She was Armenian and raised in Lebanon. Her accent, dress, and cooking were old country. Her marriage was arranged by her family, so she traveled from Lebanon to Canada to meet and marry the chosen man.
She claimed they never had an argument, I asked her once how long it took before she felt love for her husband. My question puzzled her. She eventually answered, “I married him, I loved him.”
Think of Isaac and Rebekah (Genesis 24). I’m guessing it was on the day they met that “Isaac brought her into his mother Sarah’s tent; and he took Rebekah and she became his wife, and he loved her.” (Verse 67).
What about the mature respect and emotional bond we deem essential to a healthy marriage? I can be granted.
My wife and I operated as home owners as soon as we moved in, long before our investment surpassed the bank’s. We didn’t cherry pick our sons, but we were fully committed emotionally, financially, and operationally from the moment of their birth.
From the wedding until death do us part, we are to love, honor, and cherish by conviction.