Sheila Sims Iding
A 35th Anniversary. Really? 35 years. Whoa..how could that be? How could it have ever been? I’m not sure today was suppose to be…but I am sure it was meant to be. God had to have a hand in it because Pat Iding and Sheila Sims were miles apart…no…actually…we were worlds apart.
When I started dating Pat Iding, my dad knew I was out of my league. He said, “Sheila Jean, if you play your cards right, you could marry this guy.” Even though clearly out of my league, my dad knew Pat was the one for me even before I did. On the other hand…to prove the worlds apart theory…when Pat called his mom and told her we were engaged, she said “Don’t you want to look around a little more?” She, too, must have known I wasn’t in his league. In her defense, I don’t blame her…really.
Pat was from that side of the tracks and I was from THAT side of the tracks. Pat belonged to the Country Club of Lansing and I belonged to the Aurelius 4-H Club. Pat had roast beef sandwiches in his lunch. I had bologna sandwiches…on a good day. Nothing against Pat and his family. Nothing against mine. Pat’s mom was a brilliant homemaker. She not only sewed her own clothes, she designed them and made the patterns herself. She cooked every part of the meal from the entrée to the dessert, perfectly…and her figure never showed it. She was stunningly beautiful. Her daughters learned much from her. My mom was…well you know…bedridden and still asking for cigarettes. I never remember my mom cooking but I will always remember the lessons she taught me from that bed fighting that disease…still, though, world’s apart.
Pat’s dad worked for his success. Joe Iding was a kid from the depression era so every penny he made was well-earned….hard earned. Joe Iding owned a car dealership and worked 80 hours a week to make it successful. My dad never got to use his degree from MSU, instead, he sold insurance. He worked 80 hours a week trying to sell a policy in between the hours of taking care of my mom…and us girls. Both Pat and I grew up with proud dads who worked hard but the similarities might have ended there. We were from different worlds and, for some reason, our worlds crossed. Maybe I “played my cards right”…maybe God didn’t want Pat to “look around a little more”. Maybe it was meant to be.
Thirty-five years ago when the priest asked us to promise to have and to hold for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad…we said “I do.” And we did. And we have. Like all marriages we have lived the “better or worse” but at the end of each day, every day, we knew there was more “better” than “worse”.
We have been able to sustain through richer and poorer…through medical bills, college tuitions…more college tuitions…and owning a car dealership in this state, in this economy. We have always saved for rainy, poorer days. We have always tried to be prepared what the car business could throw your way…but as prepared as you try to be, you still need to “have and hold” in the stress of this economy.
In “sickness and in health” did not threatened our marriage. It may have tried to, but we became the champion of it and it strengthened our marriage. When your child is diagnosed with a disease or disability or a syndrome, you don’t push each other away, you don’t argue about the cards you are dealt, you hold each other stronger…and you cry together. Sometimes you cry after the doctor calls with results; sometimes you cry in a hospital room, a surgical waiting room, or on a flight to find a better doctor…a better clinic…a better hope. Sometimes you even cry happy tears of victory over illness…but you never cry alone. In sickness and in health…for 35 years…you cry together.
In good times and in bad the promise resounds as he is the very first person I call with the really good news and he is the very first person I call with the news so devastating that the crying itself stifles the words. He is the first person I want to celebrate the greatest times and he is the first voice I want to hear to buffer the times that are bad.
Maybe my wise dad knew all along. Maybe his hopeful mom just wanted more for him. Maybe it was just amazing fortune on my part. And maybe God knew all along that we just needed each other. Maybe Pat needed someone to teach him that being “rich” had nothing to do with money. That the stress of the car business was “better” because I had known “worse”. That taking care of my sick mom was perfect training for understanding “in sickness and in health”.
Maybe God knew that Pat would show me worlds I would never have known. Like those family dinners at the Club and the memories created there. Like that cottage overlooking Lake Michigan and his mom’s amazing talents from sewing to cooking to art work. Maybe God knew that late at night when I was scared for the boys…again…I would need someone to hold me and sing to me…again. Maybe when the good times came, I would need someone who understood my exuberance. And maybe when the bad times came, I would need someone to hold me up when we buried my dad and stand beside me when I gave the eulogy for Andy.
The girl from that side of the tracks, found the boy from the other side of the tracks. The hopes of her father and the “cards”, and the reluctance of his mother came to be. I only dated one guy my whole life and Pat Iding only dated one girl his whole life. So it doesn’t matter about tracks, or families or miles apart or worlds apart. It matters that God knew all along. And thirty five years ago this very day, when the priest ask if I took Pat Iding to have and to hold, for better for worse, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad…I said “I do”. And now 35 years later when people wonder if I know how incredibly blessed my life has been because of Pat Iding…my answer remains the same…I do!