When Love Is in the Air

February 2002

Dear Friends,

It’s almost Valentine’s Day ... can you feel the love in the air? I’d like to contribute to the spirit of the holiday by sharing part of a letter I wrote to my wife, Shirley, more than 20 years ago. Because the defense of the institution of marriage is one of our primary objectives here at Focus on the Family, a discussion of romantic love and emotional intimacy between husband and wife seems entirely appropriate.

Before I proceed, though, it might be helpful to say a few words about Valentine’s Day itself. Although February 14 has come to be characterized by garish pink and red greeting cards and an increasingly disturbing focus on sexuality (not necessarily within the context of marriage), the holiday actually has its roots in Christianity. The Catholic Church recognizes at least three different saints named Valentine or Valentinus.1 One legend describes Valentine as a priest in third-century Rome who secretly performed marriages for young couples (the Emperor Claudius II had outlawed marriage for young single men after deciding that they made better soldiers than did their married counterparts!). Another more ominous hypothesis suggests that St. Valentine may have been martyred for attempting to help Christians escape the brutality of Roman prisons.2

As for as the tradition of sending cards goes, the oldest known valentine still in existence (which can be viewed at the British Museum in London) is a poem written by Charles, Duke of Orleans, to his wife while he was imprisoned in the tower of London in 1415. Several years later, King Henry V is thought to have hired a writer named John Lydgate to compose a valentine note to Catherine of Valois.3 (I wonder if Catherine was privately disappointed that the king couldn’t think up anything sweet to say on his own initiative?)

I did compose my letter to Shirley, mentioned earlier, although it wasn’t written as a "valentine" at all. Rather, it was penned during a Marriage Encounter weekend in which we participated back in 1981. These retreats are designed to foster intimacy and improve communication between married couples. Shirley and I had enjoyed a great relationship for 21 years and were not experiencing marital difficulties. Nevertheless, we unearthed several sources of tension during the course of the weekend that Shirley had not verbalized and that I did not know existed. We were in our 40s at the time, and she was starting to worry about widowhood after several female members of our extended family had lost their husbands. She was also concerned about the increasingly hectic pace brought on by the explosive growth of Focus on the Family. Quite frankly, she wanted the assurance that I still "needed" her as we became even more engulfed in meeting the needs of others.

Our Marriage Encounter weekend provided us with the perfect opportunity to address these issues. We worked through the possibility of my death, and on the final morning, the issue of my continued love for her was laid to rest. Here’s how I set the scene in my book Love Must Be Tough: "Shirley was alone in our hotel room, expressing her private concern in a written statement to me. And by divine leadership I’m sure, I was in another room addressing the same issue, even though we had not discussed it. When we came together and renewed our commitment for the future, whatever it might hold, Shirley and I experienced one of the most emotional moments of our lives."

Although my letter to Shirley was intensely personal, she granted me permission to reprint it in Love Must Be Tough (minus a few intimate details, of course) as an illustration of what it means to be truly "bonded" in marriage. I share it with you now not out of self-aggrandizement or arrogance, but out of humility and thanksgiving for the blessings God has bestowed upon us during our 41 years together. Perhaps you will find it encouraging during this time of year when "love is in the air." As I recall, the assignment we were given was to answer the question, "Why do I want to go on living with you?"

Who else shares the memory of my youth during which the foundations of love were laid? I ask you, who else could occupy the place that is reserved for the only woman who was there when I graduated from college and went to the Army and returned as a student at USC and bought my first decent car (and promptly wrecked it) and picked out an inexpensive wedding ring with you (and paid for it with Savings Bonds) and we prayed and thanked God for what we had. Then we said the wedding vows and my dad prayed, "Lord, you gave us Jimmy and Shirley as infants to love and cherish and raise for a season, and tonight, we give them back to you after our labor of love—not as two separate individuals, but as one!" And everyone cried. Then we left for the honeymoon and spent all our money and came home to an apartment full of rice and a bell on the bed, and we had only just begun. You taught the second grade and I taught (and fell in love with) a bunch of sixth graders and especially a kid named Norbert and I earned a masters degree and passed the comprehensive exams for a doctorate and we bought our first little home and remodeled it and I dug up all the grass and buried it in a 10 foot hole which later sank and looked like two graves in the front yard—and while spreading the dirt to make a new lawn, I accidentally "planted" eight million ash seeds from our tree and discovered two weeks later that we had a forest growing between our house and the street. Then alas, you delivered our very own baby and we loved her half to death and named her Danae Ann and built a room on our little bungalow and gradually filled it with furniture. Then I joined the staff of Childrens Hospital and I did well there, but still didn’t have enough money to pay our USC tuition and other expenses so we sold (and ate) a Volkswagen. Then I earned a Ph.D. and we cried and thanked God for what we had. In 1970, we brought home a little boy and named him James Ryan and loved him half to death and didn’t sleep for six months. And I labored over a manuscript titled "Dare To" something or other and then reeled backward under a flood of favorable responses and a few not so favorable responses and received a small royalty check and thought it was a fortune and I joined the faculty at USC School of Medicine and did well there. Soon I found myself pacing the halls of Huntington Memorial Hospital as a team of grim faced neurologists examined your nervous system for evidence of hypothalamic tumor and I prayed and begged God to let me complete my life with my best friend, and He finally said, "Yes—for now," and we cried and thanked Him for what we had. And we bought a new house and promptly tore it to shreds and went skiing in Vail, Colorado, and tore your leg to shreds and I called your mom to report the accident and she tore me to shreds and our toddler, Ryan, tore the whole town of Arcadia to shreds. And the construction on the house seemed to go on forever and you stood in the shattered living room and cried every Saturday night because so little had been accomplished. Then during the worst of the mess, 100 friends gave us a surprise house warming and they slopped through the debris and mud and sawdust and cereal bowls and sandwich parts—and the next morning you groaned and asked, "Did it really happen?" And I published a new book called Hide or Seek (What?) and everyone called it Hide and Seek and the publisher sent us to Hawaii and we stood on the balcony overlooking the bay and thanked God for what we had. And I published What Wives Wish and people liked it and the honors rolled in and the speaking requests arrived by the hundreds. Then you underwent risky surgery and I said, "Lord, not now!" And the doctor said, "No cancer!" and we cried and thanked God for what we had. Then I started a radio program and took a leave of absence from Childrens Hospital and opened a little office in Arcadia called Focus on the Family, which a three-year-old radio listener later called "Poke us in the Fanny," and we got more visible. Then we went to Kansas City for a family vacation and my dad prayed on the last day and said, "Lord, we know it can’t always be the wonderful way it is now, but we thank you for the love we enjoy today." A month later he experienced his heart attack and in December I said good-bye to my gentle friend and you put your arm around me and said, "I’m hurting with you!" and I cried and said "I love you!" And we invited my mother to spend six weeks with us during her recuperation period and the three of us endured the loneliest Christmas of our lives as the empty chair and missing place setting reminded us of his red sweater and dominoes and apples and a stack of sophisticated books and a little dog named Benji who always sat on his lap. But life went on. My mother staggered to get herself back together and couldn’t and lost fifteen pounds and moved to California and still ached for her missing friend. And more books were written and more honors arrived and we became better known and our influence spread and we thanked God for what we had. And our daughter went into adolescence and this great authority on children knew he was inadequate and found himself asking God to help him with the awesome task of parenting and He did and we thanked Him for sharing His wisdom with us. And then a little dog named Siggie who was sort of a dachshund grew old and toothless and we had to let the vet do his thing, and a fifteen-year-love affair between man and dog ended with a whimper. But a pup named Mindy showed up at the front door and life went on. Then a series of films were produced in San Antonio, Texas, and our world turned upside down as we were thrust into the fishbowl and "Poke us in the Fanny" expanded in new directions and life got busier and more hectic and time became more precious and then someone invited us to a Marriage Encounter weekend where I sit at this moment.

So I ask you! Who’s gonna take your place in my life? You have become me and I have become you. We are inseparable. I’ve now spent 46 percent of my life with you, and I can’t even remember much of the first 54! Not one of the experiences I’ve listed can be comprehended by anyone but the woman who lived through them with me. Those days are gone, but their aroma lingers on in our minds. And with every event during these twenty-one years, our lives have become more intertwined—blending eventually into this incredible affection that I bear for you today.

Is it any wonder that I can read your face like a book when we are in a crowd? The slightest narrowing of your eyes speaks volumes to me about the thoughts that are running through your conscious experience. As you open Christmas presents, I know instantly if you like the color or style of the gift, because your feelings cannot be hidden from me.

I love you, S.M.D. (remember the monogrammed shirt)? I love the girl who believed in me before I believed in myself. I love the girl who never complained about huge school bills and books and hot apartments and rented junky furniture and no vacations and humble little Volkswagens. You have been with me—encouraging me, loving me and supporting me since August 27, 1960. And the status you have given me in our home is beyond what I have deserved.

So why do I want to go on living? It’s because I have you to take that journey with. Otherwise, why make the trip? The half-life that lies ahead promises to be tougher than the years behind us. It is in the nature of things that my mom will someday join my father and then she will be laid to rest beside him in Olathe, Kansas, overlooking a wind-swept hill from whence he walked with Benji and recorded a cassette tape for me describing the beauty of that spot. Then we’ll have to say good-bye to your Mom and Dad. Gone will be the table games we played and the Ping Pong and lawn darts and Joe’s laughter and Alma’s wonderful ham dinners and her underlined birthday cards and the little yellow house in Long Beach. Everything within me screams "No!" But my Dad’s final prayer is still valid—"We know it can’t always be the way it is now." When that time comes, our childhoods will then be severed—cut off by the passing of the beloved parents who bore us.

What then, my sweet wife? To whom will I turn for solace and comfort? To whom can I say, "I’m hurting!" and know that I am understood in more than an abstract manner? To whom can I turn when the summer leaves begin to change colors and fall to the ground? How much I have enjoyed the springtime and the warmth of the summer sun. The flowers and the green grass and the blue sky and the clear streams have been savored to their fullest. But alas, autumn is coming. Even now, I can feel a little nip in the air—and I try not to look at a distant, lone cloud that passes near the horizon. I must face the fact that winter lies ahead—with its ice and sleet and snow to pierce us through. But in this instance, winter will not be followed by springtime, except in the glory of the life to come. With whom, then, will I spend that final season of my life?

None but you, Shirls. The only joy of the future will be in experiencing it as we have the past twenty-one years—hand in hand with the one I love . . . a young miss named Shirley Deere, who gave me everything she had—including her heart.

Thank you, babe, for making this journey with me. Let’s finish it—together!

Your Jim

When I presented this letter to Shirley that weekend, she read it silently and then we fell into each other’s arms. We wept without speaking for several minutes, because what we were feeling could not be expressed and didn’t need to be.

Even today as I re-read these emotional words, I found myself wiping away a tear or two. Shirley and I have now been married twice as long as we had been when I wrote that letter, yet the magic continues. We’ve had our share of joys and sorrows, of course, including a heart attack nine years later that shook up our little world. And then in 1998, I experienced a stroke that could have ended it all. My mother has since passed away, and our beautiful children are now grown and actively endeavoring to serve the Lord.

Focus on the Family has expanded beyond our wildest imagination, now reaching an estimated 220 million people every day in a hundred countries. More books have been written, old friends have now gone and new friends have come into our lives. And here we are after 41 years of marriage, still very much in love and so grateful for the companionship and intimacy we have enjoyed. Fittingly, we paused today to thank God for what we have. We’ve been doing that for more than four decades.

For those of you who are married, whether for five days or 50 years, I hope that you have experienced this level of oneness in your relationship. I’m sure many of you could share your own stories of God’s faithfulness through the trials and tribulations of life. And I know there are others of you who might be facing hurt, disillusionment or frustration in your marriage even now. Perhaps you and your spouse will consider sitting down and writing a letter to each other, recommitting yourselves and your relationship to the Lord. Whatever your situation, I trust you’ll agree that as long as your marriage is built upon the rock of Jesus Christ, you have all the tools necessary to weather the storms that come your way. As the writer of Ecclesiastes observes: "Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up . . . Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken" (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10a, 12, NIV). If we apply this illustration to marriage, it isn’t hard to understand that the Holy Spirit is the "third strand" of the chord, giving it strength and holding it together.

Thanks for allowing me to share my heart with you this month (and thanks once more to Shirley for being my sweetheart since we fell in love as two starry-eyed college kids so very long ago!). I’ll end this reflection on Valentine’s Day with a passage of Scripture that holds great relevance for all of us as Christians, whether young or old, married or single: ". . . And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God" (Ephesians 3:17b-19, NIV). Perhaps that is the kind of love the original St. Valentine was trying to promote—whoever he was!

God’s blessings to you all. See you in March.

Sincerely,

James C. Dobson, Ph.D.
President

P.S. Be sure to tune in to our daily radio program in February, as it has been designated "Love Is in the Airwaves" month here at Focus! In addition to the radio broadcasts, our magazine will feature several articles emphasizing this theme. You might also want to check out The Marriage Masterpiece by Al Janssen. You’ll find more information about this excellent book on the back page of this letter.

*(Note: Referrals to Web sites not produced by Focus on the Family are for informational purposes only and do not necessarily constitute an endorsement of the sites' content.)