"... In sickness and in health, for richer and poorer..." My stomach flipped and my mind whirled when I heard my husband to be saying those words 25 years ago yesterday. I understood them, at least to the limited ability of my experience, I did. I had a brief flash of the first time I'd said them and had them said to me, and the fiasco that had turned out to be. "... In sickness and in health, for richer and poorer..." That was my voice repeating the sacred wedding vows, making that promise. My world had just stood on its ear for the second time.

The first time I got married, I was 21 and very immature for that age. I was more in love with the idea of being in love than I was in love with the man. I made a huge mistake and managed to completely waste 2 years of my life figuring that out. 'Nuff said on that subject.

This time was different. Have you ever met the person that made your entire existence snap into focus? The one you could spend hours talking to and still have things to say? The other being who actually understood you when you started going on about genetics and then followed your train of thought to what color of paint perfectly described the mood of joy?

I did, and from the first day we got together, we didn't spend a day without at least talking on the phone. We tried to spend as much time together as we possibly could because it felt like being whole when we were together. I had never felt so accepted or so accepting of another human being in my entire life. I was home in his arms, and he was home in mine.

We had a lot of nay sayers. After all, we started going out in January, got engaged on Valentines day, and got married the day before April Fools Day. Three months. Everyone, even at our wedding, was predicting it wouldn't last. They didn't understand about good faith promises and the steadfastness of character we were trying to live up to.

That's what our vows were to us. Promises, made in the good faith that the other person would keep the promise, would stand by their word. I hadn't had a lot of good experiences with people keeping their word, but I believed Richard would. He has always had that kind of steadfastness, that bedrock solidness that I so severely lacked in my life. When I heard the slight tremor in his voice as he said those words, I knew this wasn't a decision he was making lightly, that he really meant every word he was saying, and that he was making a promise he would do his very best to keep. His very best has always been formidable to say the least.

I have always had issues with trusting people. With Richard, I could be who I was, warts and all, and I just knew he accepted me. I tried my best to do the same for him. We've never agreed on everything and I'm glad for that. A good rousing debate is good for the soul, and it's boring to never be challenged by someone you want to be with.

When I was diagnosed with Fibromyyalgia, Degenerative Disc and Joint Disease, and Rheumatoid Arthritis, I got scared. Not scared about living in pain or being overwhelmed by it, or even about taking my own life to escape it. What I got scared about was my darling husband getting fed up with my increasing demobility and finding someone else who could do all the things he wanted to do and who could keep up with him like I couldn't any more

When my body betrayed me, I half expected that he would take a clear look and say, "This isn't what I signed up for, so I'm going to find someone else." I wouldn't have blamed him for doing so. After all, if I couldn't count on my own body, how could I count on somebody else? The state of my mental health was pretty dismal at that point.

After almost a year of waiting for him to drop the bomb on me and bring my world to a total screeching halt, I finally took what little courage I could scrape up and talked to him about it. I was going to be magnanimous and tell him it was okay, that I wouldn't blame him if he left. He looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I promised to love, honor and cherish you, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer. I meant it. I promised you 50 years. I meant that too. I'm not going anywhere and I'm not looking for anyone else. I love you, all of you, and it doesn't matter that your body doesn't work like it used to. I still love you and I always will. Okay?"

That conversation was a turning point for me. I'm not a christian, but I do believe that there is a higher power, a greater force for good that works in this world and in my life. I've had proof positive of it. Maybe the day I chose to marry this man, I used up a lot of my good luck, a lot of my good karma. If that's the case, then I'd do it all over again. I found a man who would keep his word, who was what he said he was and did what he said he'd do, and that man made me a promise. He said the vows that bound us together and he meant them, with all his heart he meant to keep the promise he made that day.

My faith and understanding in that man has been tested and tried and it's come through stronger for each trial. My greatest blessing that I can give anyone is that they will find what I've found with Richard. Together, we are greater than the sum of our parts.

I've always believed in soulmates. I'm a romantic at heart, in spite of having a wide and unruly streak of pragmatism running straight through the center of my makeup.

I don't believe in that syrupy, mushy, mythical, perfect Prince Charming. Even if he did exist, who'd want him? No peace and quiet, paparazzi all over the place, too much public and no private time, yada yada. Real people have flaws and warts and bad breath and smelly feet. Thank heavens!

I would hate to have to be perfect all the time, just to live up to the image of my perfect mate. I'd want someone with flaws just so I could feel able to let my own flaws out for a run now and then. If his feet smell then he can't bitch about mine when they do. If he wakes up with dragon breath, he won't whine when I do too. If his manners aren't perfect then I can let my inner hi'billy out to play every now and again. If he snores, he can't complain when I snort with laughter.

Soul mates don't mesh perfectly in every area of their lives. That would be co-dependency. Soul mates don't have the same opinions on every little thing. That would be boring. Soulmates don't have to be completely alike, that would be...narcissistic, at best.

To me, a soul mate is the person with whom you are more than the sum of what either of you can be alone. You may not complete each other, but you make each other far better than you could be without the other person.

In my life I've settled for what I could get and suffered for it. I've also demanded the very best - for me - and been enriched by receiving it. That doesn't mean we don't recognize that we each have flaws. We just choose not to let them get in the way.

I'm sometimes a micromanager. He has very little ambition. I have a bad temper. He holds a grudge until it dies of old age then goes back to dance on its grave every few years. I'm an incessant bookworm. He's a paranomasiac. I hate country music. He plays a dobro, harmonica, mandolin, and banjo. I'm pushy. He's so laid back he's damned near comatose. So what?

Those may not be our best qualities, but they're the things we decided we could live with. We made a concious choice to accept the parts about the other person that really didn't matter in the grand scheme of life. We don't agree on everything, but we do agree on the important things. Things like character, steadfastness, honor, pretty much sum up the things that really matter to us. We both believe that wedding vows should mean more than a contract to buy a used car.

Things are disposable, people shouldn't be.