Lovemaking is the sensual offer of goodness to our partner, but when we think of the word “lover,” it seems to immediately connote sex. What happens before and after sex often sets the parameters of what degree of pleasure will last after an orgasm. How little I understood the mystery of marriage during my first months of being a newlywed.
On January 21, 1977, I became Mrs. Dan Allender during a blizzard at Trinity Methodist Church in Marble Cliff, Ohio. The ceremony began at 7:30 p.m., which remains one of the worst decisions of my life (the time, not the marriage), but that’s a story for another time. Our first six months we lived away from our families and were active in a vibrant, growing church community in Boca Raton, Florida. Our possessions were few, our jobs seemed uncomplicated, and our dreams for our future seemed naively possible. Sundays after morning church and before evening worship were reserved for swimming, lying at the beach or a pool, and then our anticipated session of connubial bliss.
In August we moved to Philadelphia for Dan to finish his fourth year of graduate study. The dream of living in a carriage house turned into a nightmare, and we chose to live with a newly widowed woman and share her family room, bathroom, and kitchen. We still didn’t own a bed, so two twin beds were pushed together, and each morning I found myself falling through the gap between mattresses.
One car and two different schedules (waitressing for me and school for Dan) required over a mile walk through an office park in order to get to “The Coach Inn” (five train cars turned into a restaurant). More than once I slipped and fell on wet floors in the kitchen while holding a tray of six meals. Often I arrived cold and wet for an eight-hour shift ending at 5 p.m. with unruly business lunches that lingered with liquor way too long. I longed for our Sundays at the beach and regular connubial bliss. And then illness struck.
I barely made it through the front door when my body rumbled with urgency and I dashed up the steep stairs to the bathroom. Within seconds, I was vomiting into the toilet, and then I needed to grab the wastebasket because I needed to tend to dual eruptions! Sounds and smells disgorged that horrified and embarrassed me! Dan was frantically knocking on the door asking how he could help. The last thing I wanted was anyone to see me! I was on verge of fainting when to my horror, Dan opened the door and came in to help me.
The lover knows every part of his or her lover’s body. Every square inch has been discovered and marveled over. My body had never been the basis of so much intimate delight. Even our wedding vows had stated that our bodies were for the other. Yet, in this state of sickness, I was adamantly unwilling to be seen! My husband was in a bind. I was needy, sicker than I could ever remember being in my life, yet the horror and depth of shame was larger than any sense of need.
Dan, without an ounce of disgust, offered me care. I recall the kindest eyes looking towards me, kinder I could have ever imagined. In fact, I still cannot remember a more astonishing moment experiencing his care, truly his holy care for me. Was this love in any way comparable to the tenderness and delight of love making? This most horrific and humbling situation became a window into an even more mysterious understanding of what it means to be a lover.
Our capacity for sex ebbs and flows and rises and falls as regularly as the tides. We have struggled in our marriage over 45 years with irritation, anger, fury, indifference, jealousy, fear, and bitterness.
But far more, we have fought to return to each other and to not let our failures determine our future.
What lingers from our early lovemaking is the sweet fragrance of nostalgia, but what remains from the way my lover touched me in the bathroom is ferocious loyalty that surrounds the sweet core of wonder. How could he love me so deeply, so unwaveringly, with the affront of such offense so early in our marriage? What we know of love is as Pascal wrote: “The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of…”
I’ve been asked by a number of younger women how to keep alive sexually into one’s advance years. I have no real answer or advice, but I have memory of the loyal, sensuous, generous touch of a man who has seen me at my worst, needing the most, refusing even the smallest care. Memory is enough to keep the fire of lovemaking lit.
Becky Allender lives on Bainbridge Island with her loving, wild husband of 42 years. A mother and grandmother, she is quite fond of sunshine, yoga, Hawaiian quilting, and creating 17th Century reproduction samplers. A community of praying women, loving Jesus, and the art of gratitude fill her life with goodness. She wonders what she got herself into with Red Tent Living! bs
Dear sweet Becky,
As I joined Pete in the kitchen this morning, he told me my favorite author had written something on red tent living. He’s always first up and at ’em. How lovely to hear your sweet description and praise of couple love. Time and and experience have given both of us a very similar view of The Lover. Though I could have never written such a beautiful piece. On Wednesday we finished our premarital counseling with a young couple who will be blessed by reading this. They’ve already loved one another through some sickness and I think your tender and sacred words will encourage them to be all the more aware of the mystery you are unveiling for us. Thank you dear one. Your writing brings me tears of joy!
Love you! Laura
Laura, thank you for your kind and affirming words. Although our times were few being together as couples, I believe the spirit allowed Dan and I to rest in your care as a married couple. You and Pete lived the depth that we longed for more fully. I trust that you and Pete continue to allure couples young and old to love really well, and to delight and honor the vows that were spoken so many years ago or will be spoken in a soon to come wedding. I can’t help but smile with remembrance and with anticipation of time together in the new heavens and earth. Love, Becky (and Dan)
Becky, This was a beautiful piece. Thank you for sharing it. Again, I feel like yours and my life have similar paths, though we’ve never met. I had an eerily similar situation to this, though I was not newly married when it happened. Yet, to this day, I marvel at the fact that my husband stood by me at my worst. The line that stood out to me in your writing was, “What lingers from our early lovemaking is the sweet fragrance of nostalgia, but what remains from the way my lover touched me in the bathroom is ferocious loyalty that surrounds the sweet core of wonder.” “Ferocious loyalty”….yes, those are good words. Loyalty that stands by us ferociously. I had not experienced “ferocious loyalty” growing up. It was strange and new to me. I believe it speaks volumes of the men each of us married. Strong, loyal men, who see past our worst because of their ferocious love for us. We are blessed women!
I love reading your writings, Becky. They are real, relatable, applicable. Thank you for taking the time to share a bit of your heart – a bit of your story. Blessings to you in this holy season.
Barbara…It is lovely…our similarities and our similar and fiercely and loyal husbands. Thank you for your very kind words. And my you, too, enjoy this holy advent season.
Becky, this writing is beautiful and holy, tenderly told with the fresh wonder of your lover’s care. This is the love that remains! Thank you, Becky. Your words are gold!
Dear Christine, thank you for your very kind words. I love that you and Tom have a love that “remains.”
Becky, thank you for speaking to this for those of us in long marriages… “but what remains from the way my lover touched me in the bathroom is ferocious loyalty that surrounds the sweet core of wonder.” I love your reflection!
Thank you Beth! I loved your piece about Chris and “your” dog! Oh my….I think you ferocious love wins out of the two couples!!!!
Oh, Becky – I’m here to apologize because scrolling through to find my unloving comment would take longer. And if you see this, great, and if you don’t, great. Just know that you are a lovely woman who I know desires to love well and who seeks to know God, the same one I do. I ask for forgiveness, not deserving it, but recognizing my need. May you be blessed. Love to you.
Dear Sue, thank you for your comment and I am grateful that I checked …over a year ago! Yes… I trust we are so alike in our desire to love God and others. And…my goodness, my need for forgiveness is daunting! Love and hugs across the many miles and days!