Feb. 18 marks a special day for us — our 50th wedding anniversary.

Have we really spent a half century together? I don’t feel that old. OK, sometimes I do. You do not look a day older than the evening we stood before the altar at Grace Missionary Baptist Church and pledged to love each other until death alone would part us.

We broke all the traditions. We ate dinner together that Friday afternoon after we left work at school. I took you to your house only to answer the phone when one of your old boyfriends called to talk to you. I thought I’d never make him understand that he was too late — we were leaving for the church to get married.

We zoomed up in front of the church five minutes before the ceremony was scheduled to begin. You jumped out of the car and entered the church. Your ladies in waiting were ready. I scooted to the back door to take my place in the wings. Rain was pouring.

I felt a little lonely. None of my family members were able to come. That loneliness was driven home all the more when I saw your myriad aunts and uncles and cousins, first through eighth, filling your side of the church. I had already figured out you were related to two-thirds of LaGrange and to at least 30 percent of the people in Lenoir County.

When the music started, I followed Preacher Webb out. My Uncle Bobby, Aunt Dot, Ricki, Susan, and Sandra sat on the groom’s side. They had driven from Portsmouth in that downpour to see me get married.

The processional began. After your entourage had taken their places, Joe stepped into the foyer with you on his arm. You stood so petite in that white dress, trimmed in pearls, train trailing behind you, veil covering your face. You looked like a fragile doll coming toward me.

 “Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”

Joe answered, handed me your hand, and stepped away. I held your hand.  For once, your hand was warm.

We entered the church as two people bound by bonds of love, but we left as one. “For this cause shall a man leave his father and his mother and cleave unto his wife, and they two shall be one flesh,” the Bible says.

We two have been one through the birth and rearing of three daughters and a son. We two watched as they grew into adulthood and took their places in the world. We two have been one as doting grandparents for a quarter century to our 13 grandchildren. Can you believe we have been grandparents for half our married life?

We two have been one through times of financial hardship. We know the feeling of taking items out of the grocery cart because we lacked the money to pay for everything. We two have been one through better economic times.

Through all these years, my love for you has not flickered or my faith in you wavered.

We found and practiced the secrets to a long, happy marriage:

– Never take each other for granted.

– Keep romance alive.

– Do not let the sun set upon anger.

– Pull together – instead of apart.

In “A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning,” John Donne compares his wife to the fixed foot of a drafting compass. While he sweeps around, doing all the things he must do in life, she is the fixed foot that keeps his circle true by establishing his center.

You have been my “fixed foot” for a half century – always steady, always reliable, always providing my true center.

And today when I look at you, you are more beautiful than you were even on our wedding day. Back then I best knew your outward attractiveness. Through the years I have come to know, ever more deeply, the beauty you have within — the beauty of love, of grace, of faithfulness.

Thank you for your love and kindness through all these years.

May our next 50 years together be just as wonderful.

Mike Parker is a columnist for Neuse News. You can reach him at mparker16@gmail.com.