I’ll never forget the first time I laid eyes on my sister’s new boyfriend back in 1964. Mary and I were both home for the weekend from our respective colleges and were readying for our Saturday night dates. My room faced the street, and when a car I didn’t recognize pulled into the driveway, I knew it was her date.

And then this guy stepped out. The sun lit up his blond pompadour, and my first thought was, “Wow! She’s dating a movie star!” Fifty years later, I can honestly say Mary chose a guy far superior to anything coming out of Hollywood.

Bervin turned out to be a man whose top priority was and still is his relationship with God. He’s a committed Christian, a faithful husband, a hands-on father and grandfather, and someone who cheerfully helps others. Mary had looked past the blond pompadour and chosen him for more important reasons.

None of us knows what we’re getting into when we marry. Those vows of undying love flow effortlessly from the mouths of a bride and groom on their wedding day – for better, for worse, in sickness, in health.

And then life happens. People get sick, and life worsens.

The way a couple responds to these tests determines whether or not they’ll go the distance. And when a couple comes into the ultimate test, one of life and death, even a good marriage can buckle under the strain.

Such a test came to Mary and Bervin 2½ years ago. Since they’d both enjoyed lifelong, excellent health, her terminal cancer diagnosis came as a terrible shock. But both accepted this new reality, even while wrestling with the miserable thought that Mary might soon die.

Despite the cancer, they both continued to do what they’d always done – sharing themselves with 7 children, their 5 spouses, 11 grandchildren, and scores of others. They bowed their heads before meals and thanked God for his grace. Mary continued to cook, Bervin continued to work, and both continued to meet their ministry commitments. Each morning before they went their separate ways, they stood with arms around each other, praying over the hours ahead.

And then the test intensified. Cancer put a stop to their normal routine. Mary grew weaker. She told me that the best part of each day after that was first thing in the morning, when Bervin brought her a steaming cup of coffee in bed. They sat together, leaning against the headboard, sometimes chatting, sometimes not.

And finally the end neared. No more ministry or cooking or working. No more mugs of coffee. Just bed-rest for Mary and tears for Bervin. But he continued to sleep beside her, hoping she’d receive comfort from his voice.

One morning he came out of their bedroom smiling. I said, “How was the night?”

“Really good,” he said. “We did a lot of reminiscing.”

In other words, he reminisced and Mary listened. But the bond remained strong, even though “better” had gone and “worse” had come.

Before Mary went into her last sleep, she signaled to Bervin to come and sit beside her for a private conversation. Words came slow and with great effort, but at the end of their short exchange she said, “Know what? I’d do it all again.”

It was a statement of undying devotion from a dying wife to a husband who had honored the vows he’d made to her, 50 years before.

“Love never gives up…. and endures through every circumstance.” (1 Corinthians 13:7)