'Fertile Myrtle' and the real secret to a happy marriage

I held the door open for him as he exited the building. He was an elderly man, thinning white hair, and slightly stooped. He commented on the beautiful weather. We entered into a conversation about where he was from and where he grew up. As we were exchanging our personal histories and our geographical wanderings over the years, he looked out into the parking lot and his eyes widened; his bent body straightened up as much as it could, and he pointed across the parking lot to a woman that he proudly told me was his wife.

“Oh,” I said, “The woman in the blue dress?”

“No, the woman in the pink dress; the good looking one,” he said.

“Oh, yes, of course,” I said as I watched her lowering herself into the backseat of a car.

“That’s fertile Myrtle,” he said turning back toward me with a big smile on his face.

I couldn’t help myself, I laughed out loud. He shoved his hands in his pockets, chuckled to himself, and blushed ever so slightly.

“Nine children, she and I,” he said, “Yes sir, she is a beauty, always has been.” He turned back toward the car where his wife waited for him. He gazed for the longest time, and then turned back to me.

“You have kids?” he asked. I told him about my two boys and we exchanged bits of information about our families. He reached into his hip pocket and pulled out his wallet. Very carefully he opened it up and gently pulled out a picture encased in a hard-plastic frame. He held it out to me.

“That’s Myrtle two days before our marriage.” I could tell that the picture was quite old.

“How long have you been married?” I asked.

“Sixty-eight years,” he said, beaming with uncontrollable delight.

“Wow, congratulations!” I put my hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze. “Have you kept this picture in your wallet all this time?”

“Well, I’ve had many wallets over the years,” he said, “but this picture has been in every one.”

A woman about 50 years of age walked up to the gentleman standing next to me. She looked at me with some interest, excused herself, and then softly put her hand on the old man’s shoulder.

“Come on Daddy, we have to go, Momma’s waiting.”

“This here is my daughter,” he said, “Are you five or six, honey?”

“I’m Ella and I’m number six, Daddy. Really, we have to go, Momma’s waiting.”

My friend opened up his wallet and tenderly put his precious picture back into its proper place. As he dropped his wallet into his pocket he winked at me and said, “Yes sir, fertile Myrtle.”

“Daddy!” exclaimed his daughter with a grin she tried very hard to hide, “Stop that!”

He shook my hand and the two of them started to walk away. As I watched them saunter across the parking lot I decided to follow them to the car. The back window was down and I stood at the side of the vehicle and introduced myself to Myrtle. She was indeed very attractive and full of charm.

“Your husband thinks the world of you, but I’m sure you already know that,” I told her.

“Isn’t he a doll?” she agreed, “Sixty-eight years, he and I.” She beamed at me as the car slowly left the parking lot.

Good and godly marriages don’t just happen; they survive and thrive because two people who decide day after day to love God first and foremost, and to love one another in spite of all their warts, go through the good times and bad times, hand in hand. Just ask Myrtle.

Greg Barnes is the associate pastor at New Song Bible Church.