Line upon Line

On a warm, muggy April day in Southern Ethiopia, I was on a wildlife safari with my girlfriend Cathy Butler. We had just crossed a spectacular lake by boat, where we saw and photographed wild hippos, crocodiles, and exotic birds, and were climbing a steep hill on foot to a plateau for more wildlife viewing. As we hiked up that slope, I said to Cathy, “This is a steep slope but at least we have good footholds.” Cathy immediately saw a metaphor in that statement and asked me to repeat it while she took a video.

Seizing the opportunity, I repeated my statement for the video and said that marriage can be difficult and sometimes feels like an uphill battle, but we have good footholds—such as the restored gospel, life experience, and a mutual commitment to personal reflection and self-improvement. “I love you! Will you marry me?” I asked. Cathy flashed her radiant smile and said “yes.” Newly engaged, we finished the climb and spent the afternoon together, photographing a herd of wild zebras and some majestic African antelope. Later I gave Cathy a set of hand carved wooden goblets I had bought from a local artist, and we toasted our engagement. That was an unforgettable day of two dreams fulfilled.

Author Anne Bauer (the inspiration for this article) observed in her Redbook article, Finding Love at 40, “I was still getting used to the word: boyfriend. It sounded ridiculously adolescent.” That thought occurred to me too. On that safari, I was 50 years old, and my “girlfriend” was 38. Recently, my use of the term “girlfriend” was put into perspective when my 82-year-old father told my 30-year-old son that he needed to “go see [his] girlfriend.” (After more than two years widowed, he is engaged to be married in August.)

The trip to Africa had been Cathy’s idea. I was part of a business and trade delegation to China only four months earlier. But when Cathy told me she wanted to visit her sister in Africa and asked me to come with her, I was enthusiastic. I love adventure. By contrast, Cathy said, “This so not like me.” We had known each other more than two years but had begun dating for marriage just a couple of months earlier. For many years, I had wanted to visit Africa and see for myself the spectacular landscapes and exotic wildlife I had previously seen only in magazines and on television. And this trip was an acid test of how Cathy and I would get along spending two weeks together in a foreign country. The fact that Cathy asked me to join her on this trip was a strong indicator that she was serious about our relationship and wanted to give it a good try. I wanted that too.

As I look back at the boldness of our trip to Africa together, it surprises me. We each had a divorce following a long-term marriage, followed by a brief second marriage and another divorce. Both of us were cautious about becoming entangled in another failed relationship. And yet, there we were, under the hot Ethiopian sun, thousands of miles from home, declaring to each other that we wanted to choose each other and believed we could be together forever.

I had been married “forever” at age 26, finished a law degree, and an advanced law degree, started my own law firm, ran for public office, and my (now former) wife and I were raising two sweet children. In many ways, my first marriage was a sweet time. We had dreams of raising our children, taking on the world, traveling widely, and building a beautiful custom home looking out over Puget Sound. Like Ann Bauer, we “imagined our future in various storybook ways: presiding over Thanksgiving tables, dandling infant grandchildren, rocking companionably on a porch.”

We built our dream home. But before we had lived in it for five years, I lost an election in 2006, the economic disaster of 2008 created significant challenges for my law practice, and in 2009 my wife of 15 years chose to end our marriage. In my early 40s, I was financially broke and alone, and a part-time single-father of two. For several years, I was lonely and dispirited. I felt like a total failure. I couldn’t imagine ever feeling better inside, let alone recovering enough financially to support a family. I felt like creating a “blended family” would be settling for a consolation prize and felt no enthusiasm for it.

Three years after I moved out of our dream home, I moved to Texas for a new career opportunity and began to heal. I had enough financial breathing room to begin paying debts, living on less than I earned, and was able to take a lady to dinner occasionally. I thought I was ready and re-married. But I married someone who was the opposite of my first wife, mistakenly thinking that was the answer. You have a better chance of making a relationship last if you marry someone for who she is rather than for who she isn’t. After six months, I left that marriage and moved back to Utah—about two months after being laid off from my corporate job in Houston.

I met Cathy on St. Patrick’s Day, a little over three months after returning to Utah. Our first date was in July of that year. Dating felt complicated because we were both recently divorced from second spouses. We dated for the better part of a year and then broke up and dated other people while remaining friends. About a year later, I had narrowed my search to three people. One of them, who has remained a wonderful friend to both of us, broke up with me after a weekend we spent together. She told me “You are still in love with Cathy, and you need to go see about that.” I knew she was right. On New Years’ Eve, I didn’t go to a singles dance or a party with anyone I was dating. I stayed at home and wrote Cathy a very vulnerable letter, asking her to date me for marriage. I assured her that our friendship was not at risk if she said no. But I told her that, if she wanted my heart, it was still hers.

Cathy replied to my letter saying, “you sure know how to complicate a girl’s life!” She was also dating two other people who both wanted to marry her. Within a few weeks, Cathy let go of the other men she was dating, and we planned our trip to Africa together. On the way, we stopped in Qatar, visiting the Souk and the spectacular Blue Mosque and discussed Islam with a kind young man from Saudi Arabia. In Ethiopia, we saw exotic wildlife, feasted on injera, explored Ethiopia’s south country and met many wonderful people. And, best of all, we relished spending every minute together.

We were married in the Provo City Center Temple a little over a month after returning from Africa. A little over seven years later, I can honestly say that I have never made a better decision. Like the hill we climbed on that Safari in Ethiopia, our years of marriage have often included moments of steep, uphill slopes. We lost a baby to miscarriage, and Cathy endured several years of serious health problems and major surgery. We have had disappointing career setbacks as well as even larger blessings. And my youngest son was killed in a rock-climbing accident two and a half years ago. But we have good footholds—including each other, our commitment to our marriage, the power of God’s anointing, and our shared beliefs.

I like the way Ann Bauer concluded her article, saying:

“Turning 40 wasn’t at all what I’d expected; rather than hurdling over some milestone, I had the sense of being washed clean. It was the perfect time to start over. And being here with John in this strange place felt like a beginning. “

“Inside, my old faith flared. It was tempered this time with hard-won experience from the past 20 years. Yet I realized I still wanted my storybook ending. And while it hadn’t worked simply to believe willfully in forever, perhaps I could figure out with this quiet, careful man how to make it come true.”

Similarly, for me, being 50 did not feel like hurdling over some milestone. But it did feel like being washed clean as I knelt at the altar in temple with Cathy and began a new life together. Finding love at 50 felt like a precious chance to start clean, with the benefit of all my hard-won experience. It was also a confession that I, too, wanted my storybook ending. While it did not work to just willfully believe in forever and think that love conquers all, I also sensed that, in a quiet and reflective way, with God’s help, Cathy and I could figure out together how to make the fairytale come true.

This week, as we dandled our two infant granddaughters and gathered for special occasions with our beautiful, blended family in all its uniqueness, I knew this was not a mere consolation prize. And I can’t help thinking that life doesn’t get much better than this.

Resource:
Intentional Courtship can help in this journey.

About the Author
Jeff Teichert, and his wife Cathy Butler Teichert, are the founders of “Love in Later Years,” which ministers to Latter-day Saint single adults seeking peace, healing, and more joyful relationships. They are co-authors of the Amazon bestseller Intentional Courtship: A Mid-Singles Guide to Peace, Progress and Pairing Up in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Jeff and Cathy each spent nearly a decade in the mid-singles community and they use that experience to provide counsel and hope to mid-singles and later married couples through written articles, podcasts, and videos. Jeff and Cathy are both Advanced Certified Life Coaches and have university degrees in Family & Human Development. They are the parents of a blended family that includes four handsome sons, one lovely daughter-in-law, and two sweet little granddaughters.

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