The Game of Life

Twenty years ago today Mike and I walked down the aisle of my home church in Kentucky and became one. It was a significant date for us and for the entire state - also marking the first time the University of Kentucky and University of Louisville basketball teams had played each other in 50 years! Several of our journalist colleagues had to miss our wedding to cover that exciting game that went into overtime just as we became man and wife. Even the faithful attending our ceremony ran to a television set to see the Cardinals beat the Cats before joining the wedding receiving line. Basketball, as they say in Kentucky, is the state religion.

We had carefully planned our wedding date NOT to conflict with what we handicapped the NCAA tournament to produce. But the unthinkable happened, and the state's two rivals each advanced to that critical game. It was an opening lesson in marriage that the unthinkable and unexpected will happen, that we cannot always control the events of our lives and of the importance of remembering who and what brought you to the altar in the first place.

We celebrate 20 years today after spending our 19th year together in surviving what life can throw your way. In the span of seven months, we lost two of four beloved dogs. In between, I spent several months at the bedside of my father, watching his gallant but futile fight against prostate cancer. He was buried in Kentucky the day the sniper attacks started in the Washington area. My husband was there to support me and share my grief.

During my time with my father, I researched his experience as a World War II prisoner of war in Germany so that I could learn more about how he survived that harrowing experience. His B-24 was shot down on March 26, 1945 - 38 years to the day he would walk me down the aisle. What I learned most, however, was how my father approached his death. I watched his tremendous courage, his acceptance and his reaching out to others. His quiet faith was strong and enduring, and we all knew that God was with him every step of the way, no matter what. This was the legacy that he left behind for his children and grandchildren.

My father knew that my husband and I were facing our biggest challenge in parenting our teenage son. He died before things spiraled out of control. One month after my father's death, we faced difficult decisions. We knew something else had to be done before our son's impulsive behavior ended his chance for the good and productive life we knew God must have planned for him.

We prayed for guidance and strength, as this was clearly a test for our marriage and our family. We asked others for prayers and accepted help that was offered. Our cloud seemed to lift a little as we found a wonderful educational consultant who deals with troubled teens and their parents. She recommended a wilderness therapy program in Utah, and within days, he was there in the wilderness.

The wilderness experience had its ups and downs, but at the end of two months, our son made significant progress with the help of a dedicated therapist. A Christmas letter of encouragement from my husband and a book by a friend about boys and manhood were pivotal events. And so in early January, my husband and I traveled to Utah to spend the day and the night with him in the wilderness before he went on to his next school program. We were warmed by the fire he started without any matches and nurtured by the meal he cooked over the fire. But we were most warmed by his acknowledgement that he had realized that we sent him to the wilderness not because we wanted to send him away but because we wanted to get him back.

I didn't know what I was getting in for 20 years ago as I began my married life. I didn't sign up for this past year of pain and suffering. But I know that in this game of life, my husband and I have recognized what we need most when the unexpected happens and the game goes into overtime. We want God as our coach to help us through and cheer us on. And we want to be warmed and supported by the prayers, love and support of others.

— Becky Todd York

Courtesy of The Church of the Good Shepherd United Methodist