pri.or.i.ty: a thing that is regarded as more important than another.
My wife and I both grew up in Alabama. I grew up in the southeast corner of the state in Enterprise and she grew up north of Birmingham in Jasper. We were both students at a college in Birmingham, but we met in Jasper. I was on the part-time staff of a church in Jasper and I made the one hour drive several times each week. The women in my church were telling me about a girl from Jasper who was a student at Samford. The women in her church were telling her about a young Samford student who was the minister of music at the New Prospect Baptist Church in Jasper. She made the first move. One Sunday night before our senior year, she came to our church to hear our youth musical. After church she made her way to me and introduced herself. For both of us it was whatever is the opposite of love at first sight. Since she had a job in Jasper and also made the drive every weekend, in spite of the awkward beginning, we decided that it made good sense for us to share a ride to Jasper every weekend. "So David, where did you and your wife fall in love?" "Somewhere between Birmingham and Jasper, Alabama."
About a year and half later there was a wedding. The night I got married I choked my way through "for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in death." Neither of us had any way of knowing what we were saying. It wasn't so much that I was saying those things to her, but that she was saying those things to me. Five years later we had a son. Twenty seven years after than he had a little girl, our granddaughter. During my wedding ceremony my heart was filled with passion and love. The morning our son was born was heart was melting. The morning our granddaughter was born I thought my heart would explode. Because of complications with the pregnancy, there was an elevated risk that she would never be born alive. There was a snow and ice storm in Indiana that we drove through to get there the night she was born. I hate driving in those conditions. Earlier in the day the interstate had been completely closed. But who cared. We got to the hospital in Indiana from Georgia at about nine o'clock pm. At about ten minutes after midnight the nurse came into the waiting room and said, "You have a healthy and beautiful baby girl." "Well, when is her birthday?", someone asked. "I don't know it was too close." A few minutes later we learned that she was born at one minute after midnight. My son later said, "Dad, her head was born on the twenty second and her feet were born on the twenty third. I guess they counted her feet." When it was my turn to hold her there was not enough room in my chest to contain my emotion and joy.
Since our family is spread across Florida, Alabama, Indiana and California, when we travel it's always to one of those places. Any trip to San Diego is a vacation, but it's still a trip to visit family. Because of this a few weeks ago we decided it was high time that the two of us take a trip somewhere together. Just us. A trip to spend time with each other. After all from that first love all the other loves flowed. Except for that wedding in Jasper nearly forty years ago there would be no trips to Indiana and California.
Since we didn't want to spend all of our time driving, we did a Google search of resorts within 200 miles of Chattanooga. One of them that popped up was the Chateau Elan northeast of Atlanta. About twenty years ago we had a hookup with Marriott properties. She gave us a weekend there and it was one of the most enjoyable experiences of our lives. So the Chateau Elan it was. We began filling in the details. How good it was going to be to spend time in the Inn, exploring the winery and maybe taking in a couples massage. Just the two of us at long last. "For better or for worse" through Atlanta traffic. "For richer of for poorer" since we would be footing the bill. "Till death us do part", always a possibility on I-75 and I-285. But we would take our chances.
As we were finalizing our plans, our granddaughter's mom in Indiana contacted my wife and said, "Your granddaughter's next to last basketball tournament is weekend after next" That was the weekend of our trip. We looked at each other, considered our options, discussed it for about thirty seconds and said "We'll be there."
Last night at about midnight, as we were entering the city limits of Chattanooga after a six hour trip through rain and fog we were still talking and laughing about things our nine year old granddaughter had said and done. Not the least of which that her team won both games and she was one of the high scorers. One of the dads behind us had said, "She has excellent form." To say the least. And on those trips up and back, just like on U.S. Highway 78 forty one years ago, it had been just the two of us--"for better" and not for worse. "For richer", and not for poorer. Chateau Elan will still be there when our granddaughter is married with children of her own. And we can only hope and pray that we will still be here too. They say it just gets better. I really can't imagine.
"Love, had you rather go to Chateau Elan for that honeymoon we've always meant to take or watch your great-granddaughter play basketball?" "What time's the game?"
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