Celebrating our 40th wedding anniversary

As Anne and I mark a marriage milestone, we realize that God’s plans are rarely what we expect — and always better than we could have imagined.

Here’s Anne and me celebrating our 26th birthdays in 1987. She’s 15 days younger than me — and doesn’t let me forget it.

The New York Times runs a weekly feature called “Tiny Love Stories,” where readers share their romances in 100 words or less.

With our 40th wedding anniversary coming up on May 25, I decided to give it a shot and write one about Anne and me. It didn’t get published — but it was a fun and meaningful way to reflect on our story.

Here’s what I wrote:

Two Hundred Miles to Forever

At Western Michigan University, I was smitten; Anne was not. I loved her smile; she thought I was an arrogant jerk. Three years later, I was driving to Traverse City for Memorial Day when she asked to tag along as "just friends." Trapped in a car at 65 mph, she got to know the real me. By the time we returned to Kalamazoo, we were dating. Now, three kids and two grandkids later, we’re at 40 years of marriage. That road trip changed everything. Turns out, all I needed was 200 miles and no escape route.

Anne really just wanted a ride to Traverse City — the northern Michigan town where I grew up. She had friends she wanted to visit over the long weekend. No ulterior motive.

By that time, she had learned to tolerate me. Barely.

She was the news editor of the Western Herald, our college newspaper. I was the guy she hired as assistant news editor — not because she liked me, but because, as she still says, “you were the best person for the job.”

And she loves to remind me about my competition for that job: “I could’ve hired Steve Morgan and be married to him right now!”

One of the humbling truths of the Christian life is that God’s plans are rarely what we expect — and always better than we could have imagined. We chart our course with limited vision; he sees the full horizon.

The two most important days of my life are when I was born, and 28 years later when I was born again.

But third on that list is the day I married Anne. And for the first three years we knew each other, neither of us saw that coming.

May 25, 1985, in Flint, Michigan.

Now, 40 years later, we look back on a great adventure — walking together through doors we never would have opened on our own, but that God clearly placed in our path.

I still love Anne’s smile — and she’s never stingy with it. She lights up when greeting friends, playing with children (especially our grandchildren), hearing a joke (even a bad one), or when I simply say, “I love you.”

God willing, we’ve got a couple more decades to enjoy those smiles together.

One more thing

Here’s a bonus photo from our wedding reception. My groomsmen thought it would be funny to have a Domino’s Pizza delivered to the reception in honor of all the pizzas we ate together at college.