To call them a couple was kind of awkward. The word fitted more, young lovers. But what would you call them after decades?

I lived with them for the better part of my growing years so I know that they lived the principles they shared with those young couples that do visit them and ask questions about “how to go about it.” Whatever they said was like law.

The other day, I summoned enough courage to ask them how they got it right.

They didn’t rattle some seven or so steps to marital bliss… or some other haughty answers.


“I know,” I thought. “Everybody covers up with that.”

But they were quite clear.
“It’s God. Whenever you involve him from the beginning of choice making and he remains involved deep into marriage, you can’t help but have joy.”


I looked up at the group of gorgeously dressed people- young and old- posing infront of me, impatiently beckoning to me.


I smiled as I my mind drifted back to the present.

As I arranged the group finally, I could do little to reveal the faces of the celebrant couple from behind the giant butter cake. I wasn’t so much of a professional, but I could still get a manageable result.

By instinct, they all shouted “happy sixtieth anniversary.”

I clicked the shutter.

# marriageandfamilylife.


P.s.: this is a pondering on what makes a marriage and family work.

2 replies on “The photographer

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