I did not realize when attempting cryptic endings on my last two posts, that I was writing myself into a corner. I now feel obligated to write the story of Reed's folk's elopement in a timely manner, just to finish the set. Though our marriage got off to an inauspicious beginning, we had a few things going for us: we were both of legal age to get married, 20, and our parents did not oppose our union. (At least not openly.) Not so for Reed's parents. If I started this story with the marriage of two young people in love who didn't know what they were doing, that would be most of us, so let's get more specific. Patricia was 16 years old and engaged to an older man, Delmar, age 20, whom she had known most of her life, but was at that time serving in the army. Pat's dad gave grudging permission for them to marry when Del came home from Korea. This turned out to be a loophole big enough to drive an elopement through when Del got a short leave and went home to Helena. Pat was not old enough to be legally married in Montana, but they had a plan. Del had a friend who could alter her birth certificate and they would drive to Idaho for a quickie marriage. We are gathered here today . . .
When Pat's dad figured out what was going on, he tried to get the police to intercept them before they crossed the state line. He located and almost caught them, in Butte. If anyone objects . . . They worked their way to wedlock through a series of evasive maneuvers worthy of fleeing felons, involving multiple cities, transportation by car, bus, cab, and train, as well as disguising Del as a civilian. They caught a ride with a salesman in the jewelry store where they bought the ring, who happened to be going to Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. He dropped them off at the courthouse where they got the license. Three wedding chapels were across the street. They chose the one without a line of servicemen and their sweeties waiting. In the presence of these witnesses . . . Since there are no handbooks for sneaking away to get married, they didn't know they needed witnesses (and it's hard enough to plan an elopement for two people, much less guests). Ironically, after spending all that time fleeing law enforcement, their witnesses turned out to be a highway patrolman and a deputy. I now pronounce you man and wife . . . When they returned to Helena, Pat's dad's blessing on their marriage was, "I have put up with her for 16 years, let's see how you do it." After that unlikely joining, they made staying together even more unlikely by spending the first two years of their marriage apart, while Del finished serving in Korea.
There is a popular column in the magazine "Ladies' Home Journal" called, Can This Marriage Be Saved? Or maybe, more appropriate in their case, Should This Marriage Have Started? But their marriage was saved because they were. They each trusted Christ as their Savior in 1963 and that changed the course of their lives and their children's lives--for which I am forever grateful, since I married their son. They were married 66 years before Del went home to heaven in 2020. Until death do us part . . . But only for a while, Pat, only for a while. God's plan for us does not require a good beginning, just a great Redeemer.
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