48 Years of Love, Faith, and Family

Since it's February, the month of love, we’re celebrating by sharing timeless love stories. This is the second in our series, and it’s one especially close to our hearts—our parents’ love story, told from Mom’s perspective. 💕

How can this be? We’ve been married for almost 48 years! Yet it feels like just yesterday that our journey together began.

Our love story started at a dance in May of 1976. He was twenty-one, and I was sixteen. I was shy, while he was outgoing and determined. He insisted on driving me home that night, and I eventually said yes. Little did I know, as soon as I got into the car, at least ten other kids would pile in after me. I swear they were practically stacked on top of each other in the back seat! Every time we tell this story, I laugh and remind everyone that back then, there were no seatbelts—or rules—about how many people could cram into a car.

When he finally dropped me off at my house, we sat outside and talked about everything under the sun. My mother, trying to be subtle, started flickering the porch lights on and off to signal it was time for me to come inside. At the time, we found it so annoying, but now, it’s one of those sweet memories that makes me smile.

On our third date, Jean-Marie surprised me by announcing that he loved me. I was stunned. At sixteen, I had no intention of falling in love. I couldn’t say it back, but it wasn’t long before I realized how deeply I cared for him. A few months later, I told him I loved him too.

We were young and head over heels, with so much in common—our morals, faith, and even our humble beginnings aligned perfectly. We felt ready to face the world together. Just eleven months after that first dance, we were married in St. Lazare Catholic Church. Our love was passionate and fearless, and we were eager to start our life as husband and wife.

What we didn’t fully realize was how little we really knew about each other. We were two strangers in love, suddenly sharing the same roof and the same life. Looking back, it was both challenging and hilarious.

Jean-Marie still teases me about how I didn’t know how to fry an egg properly. He likes his eggs swimming in browned butter, flipped just right, and served with the butter poured on top. My version? Standard café-style eggs. I’ll admit, his comments hurt my feelings at the time, and I told him he could cook his own eggs. But over time, I learned how he liked them because making him happy became more important than proving my point.

Marriage is like that—two people from different worlds learning to navigate life together. It’s a wild, crazy, and beautiful experience. I used to complain about him leaving his dirty socks by his chair. Guess what? He still does it to this day. But I’ve learned to let the little things stay little because they’re not worth the energy.

Soon, we began our family—one child at a time. I often describe them as a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Each one was unique, but together, they created something truly remarkable. Family has always been our focus, and it still is today.

With twelve children, life was wonderfully chaotic, and time for each other often felt scarce. But we found ways to nurture our relationship, whispering secrets, sneaking hugs, and saying "I love you" whenever we could. Sure, we had disagreements, but they were short-lived.

We knew our love had changed, but it had deepened in the most beautiful way. It became something we shared with our children. We learned to work together as a team. Jean-Marie was the leader of our home, but I was his partner, someone he cherished and cared for.

Despite tight finances, we built a life based on faith, love, and dreams. If we could offer advice to couples navigating the middle years of marriage, it would be this: pray together, forgive quickly, and cherish the small moments. Life is too short to let little annoyances turn into big problems. Teach your children to value laughter, faith, and time spent together as a family. Those are the memories that matter most.

Of course, we faced hard times—what marriage doesn’t? But we got through them together.

There were days, especially when the kids were young, when exhaustion hit me like a wave. Jean-Marie worked long hours on the dairy farm, while I spent my days in a house full of children, cooking large meals for those working in the fields. Some nights, after hours of rocking a newborn to sleep, I would finally crawl into bed and cry from sheer exhaustion. I loved my life, but there were moments when it felt overwhelming, when I wondered how I would make it through another day of balancing it all.

But a new day always came—a fresh start. And I’d do it all over again. Through every challenge, God was by my side, giving me strength, guiding me through the hard days, and reminding me that even in the chaos, I was never alone.

Now, as I watch my sons become fathers, I can’t help but smile at how different things are. They change diapers, rock their babies to sleep, and proudly wear their babies in carriers while cooking dinner. I see them showing up in ways that weren’t common in our day, and my heart swells with pride. They are incredible fathers—gentle, patient, and present. And though Jean-Marie’s role as a husband and father looked different back then, he was just as devoted in his own way, carrying the weight of providing for us all, working tirelessly to build a life for our family.

Now, we’re in a different stage of love. The chaos of raising little ones has passed, and our days are quieter—but they are still full. We stay busy in our own way, tending to our garden, working side by side just as we always have.

Jean-Marie readies the earth and plants the seeds, while I take care of the weeding and gathering. We’ve done this for so long now that we don’t even need to discuss it—our roles are known, our rhythm natural. Each summer, we work together, preparing for the winter ahead. We store what we grow, and it’s what we eat all winter long. It’s a simple life, but it’s ours, and it feels good to still be working toward something together.

These days, we watch our children create their own love stories, and we pray for them. We know they’ll face challenges, just as we did, but we hope they’ll draw strength from the lessons we’ve passed down.

Our focus now is on creating memories for our children—memories of our mistakes, triumphs, and even the funny, imperfect moments.

Maybe, by doing this, our love story will continue even when we are no longer here.

When we look back, it’s amazing to see how much the world has changed. We started with three TV channels, party lines, floppy disks, no microwaves, and no air conditioning. Life has certainly advanced, but through it all, our love has grown.

Life isn’t about perfection—it’s about the journey. And after 48 years, we’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Love is a beautiful thing.

We are so blessed.