Back in 2006, Pam and I had been dating for several months when the subject of marriage came up. As we were discussing it, the Ridge boy in me reared its stubborn head and I was bobbing and weaving as to how and if to proceed down that path.
Having been fooled and burned once by marriage, I had vowed that I would never pursue it again. Whenever such thoughts on the subject did cross my mind, an old Chinese proverb served as my mantra “Only a fool drinks twice from a poisoned well.” The fact that second marriages actually have a higher divorce rate than first timers also gave me pause about doing it again. Like someone once asked “Would you jump out of a plane if the odds of the parachute not opening were in the 50-60% range?” Think about it.
It was a Sunday morning when we had had our little talk, which was mostly Pam talking and me listening, so I decided to escape and go to Church. On my drive out Rt. 249, I shot one to St. Joe along the lines “Hey Joe, I know at first you weren’t too wild about getting hitched to Mary, so hows about helping me out a little here and send a sign my way.”
At Holy Face Church I assumed my customary seat in the back and settled in to await whatever sign may or may not be coming my way. I looked ahead at the many older couples seated before me and noted how contented they all seemed with one another. They possessed that look of familiarity with one another that only comes from years and years of having been together. Some of them even looked alike. But the cynic in me took over and I smiled thinking that they were probably just going through the motions and had reconciled themselves long ago to being bored with each other for all of their adult lives knowing that they couldn’t do any better than what they had. They obviously were not the sign(s) I was looking for.
I too saw the younger couples before me worrying about and admonishing their kids for squirming and acting out. I secretly thanked the fertility Gods that my procreating days were over marriage or no marriage. Too, I wondered how many of those “young” marriages would make it for the long haul after the kids were up and gone and the parents only had each other to focus on for the rest of their lives. I mulled over that empty nest syndrome and concluded that it may have more to do with being home alone with one’s spouse than it does with the fact that no the kids are at home.
Thus, obviously Joe wasn’t giving me any signs that I could see. Mass had begun and I began to blues out like I usually do when Mass starts. I picked up the Missalette to follow along with the readings and what do you know, Joe came thru in a startling way.
Imagine my reaction to seeing the following intro and the First Reading:
My sign delivered, it was then that I knew I would re-marry.
I looked for Ace of Bases’s “I Saw the Sign” but got diverted to the following one of theirs’ instead. (Plus, that Sign song was never one of my favorites to begin with.)