Last September, my husband and I celebrated our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. I thought that when we hit this milestone, I would reach some epiphany or acquire some sage insights as to why we made it but half of couples do not. The truth is I am no expert and have only speculation. There are hardworking, very good people whose marriages have dissolved. We are not better in any way. I can say we loved each other, but that's not unique. Presumably all couples entering marriage walk down the aisle in love and with intentions of a lifelong relationship.

George and I had several factors going for us that demographers identify as factors correlated with lifelong marriage. We were old enough, at 32 and 25. We both had college degrees. Neither of us had been married before. Both sets of parents were married. We did not have a lot of debt. We didn't have a child for almost three years. We had similar values in terms of relationship egalitarianism and financial management.

Still, we had some areas of heterogamy that we know can be risk factors. While we have identical definitions of morality, we come from and have different religious beliefs. We come from two different cultures and countries of origin. We did not have a great number of shared interests, especially early in our marriage.

Over time, we closed some important gaps. While research tells us that transitioning to parenthood lowers marital satisfaction, the birth of our son gave us a new compelling shared interest. Our political beliefs drifted toward each other's. After much lobbying on my behalf, he finally agreed to get a dog (what I thought was essential for a happy life.) He is now so wild about dogs that when I suggested we not get another dog when our last one died, he wouldn't hear of it. We have found ways to combine our interests. I like antiques-he likes electronics. So we go to flea markets. I look at the antiques. He looks for vintage radios that he loves to restore.

In my business, you don't read a lot of first-person marriage memoir that's not full of superlatives. We all want to look as if we have perfect lives. But I know the score from 25 years' experience and from talking with friends-and even strangers on airplanes. In their honest moments, even those in intact relationships invariably tell me three things: 1) It's darn hard work, and 2) they've all had moments where they've been scared about the future and 3) there's a lot of luck involved. At any time, life can deal a crushing blow. A car accident. A chronic illness. A layoff. A house fire... or the loss of a child. There are plenty more where those came from. I venture to say that every relationship has its breaking point. (Incidentally, George and I have survived all of the above.)

We made it. A demographer friend tells me that the likelihood for divorce after 25 years is low. I'm a "lifer." And George is too, not because he has a perfect wife-we are each other's favorite companion. Also, we have another protective factor-he just hates change, which is one of the key reasons he appealed to me in the first place. He is Steady-Eddie, Even-Steven stable. I have a best friend who loves to see me succeed, a person who loves the same kid as much as I do, and someone who loves animals. He is gentle and generous. He's the brightest man I've ever met. (He can add, subtract, multiply and divide in Base 16 in his head!) Our differences have been growth opportunities for both of us-I know way more about the software engineering process than I would have, and the same goes for him and family studies. We've seen each other at our worst and still come back for more. Perhaps the question that is more important is: "Knowing all you do now, would you still pick the same person?" My answer is an emphatic "yes."

One protective factor for us was that we didn't get hung up on following a recipe for marriage. Date night? Forget it. Our son didn't sleep through the night until he was two. We both preferred to stay home to go to sleep early in lieu of passing out into our eggplant parmesan. He never remembers my birthday-or our anniversaries. I could've made a big deal out of this over the years, but haven't. I know he doesn't even remember his own birthday, so it's nothing personal. He's relentlessly cheerful in the morning, but I've learned to live with it.  He doesn't come home with flowers. But he carefully maintains my car, and my laptop always has the latest updates and virus checkers which is, to me, more thoughtful and practical. I have more imperfections than he, which he has overlooked or taken with good humor; among them is my title as the world's worst cook. Early in our marriage, I tried making lasagna. I didn't know that one should boil the lasagna noodles before they go in the oven. George took a bite and looked like he was eating a rawhide chew.

Although the following story is medically explicit, it's the one that, in all of my married life, best illustrates what real love looks like. It's in these less than glamorous moments in which the truths about a relationship become evident. Early in our marriage, I had a bout of chronic cystitis- recurring bladder infections-a series that persisted for over a year.  They are incredibly painful, and I thank God I don't get them anymore. With every subsequent infection, the bladder and urethra develop more and more scar tissue until finally, the scars open up and start to bleed. At that point, the acidic urine washes past these scars, and it's excruciating. I honestly had less pain recovering from my C-section a couple of years later. During one of my last infections, I was sitting on the commode for hours, crying, as I passed what felt and looked like red sulfuric acid.  The doctor had started me on antibiotics, but he said it would be about 24 hours before they kicked in.  During the hours that I sat there sobbing, George sat on the edge of the bathtub, holding my hand patiently, quietly, and he suffered with me. Now THAT'S love.

We've been in empty nest mode now for several months. Conventional wisdom says this transition introduces a period of risk. Again, my experience is different. We're at our best today. We're having tons of fun. We go out to breakfast once a week. We walk our dog regularly. As much as it's nice to have someone to talk to, it's just as wonderful to have someone to be quiet with. We have a treasure of shared history. We have a lexicon of inside jokes so refined that we can get each other to crack up with one word. After 25 years, we've had all our fights and have either worked them out or agreed to disagree. What I thought was love 25 years ago is now laughable.  This-what we have after 25 years-is love.

On our anniversary, I reminded him that we've been married 25 years.  He said what he always says facetiously every September 14^th, "Hmm. Shall we give it another year?"

Epilogue

Another protective factor for a lasting marriage is social support from one's community.  At the last annual conference, an anniversary gift was left for me at the registration desk.  NCFR member, Fellow and Margaret Arcus Award winner-and dear friend-Wally Goddard found out that George and I made it to "25."  Wally, an expert woodworker, engraved the solid oak plaque (pictured above) for the occasion.  We will treasure it always.