Dear Friends,

Since we’re in the season of love, I wanted to share a little slice of our marriage story—because if you’re married, you’ll recognize yourself somewhere in this.

Marriage is sacred.
Marriage is also realizing that the man you fell in love with now comes with sound effects—and not the cute kind.

When we were young, love was passionate. He whispered sweet nothings in my ear.
Fast forward a few decades and now I’m whispering, “Was that you?”
And he proudly answers, “Yep. That one had bass.”

The older my husband gets, the less he acknowledges the noise. It’s like his body decided aging should come with a full surround-sound system. He doesn’t even flinch. He just keeps scrolling on his phone like he didn’t just release something that should require a warning label. Meanwhile, I’m gagging, opening windows, and I am probably being a little dramatic to get his attention.

But let me be clear—this man is a worker. Strong. Steady. Dependable. And the older he gets, the more distinguished he becomes. I am more attracted to him now than on day one. He’s the kind of man who will try to fix absolutely anything to make me happy…
Except his digestive system.

Now enter menopause—my unexpected plot twist.

If you think marriage vows prepare you for this season, they do not. I was sweating for absolutely no reason.
Standing still? Sweating.
Sitting down? Sweating.
Thinking about sweating? Sweating more.

Meanwhile, my husband was wrapped up like a burrito in three blankets and a beanie, asking, “Why do you have it so cold in here?”
Sir. I am actively combusting.

So, there we were—me having spontaneous heat waves like I was training for desert survival, and him producing noises that sounded like a malfunctioning lawn mower. I had hot flashes. He had gas attacks. We were both fighting for our lives.

There were nights I slept with the three fans on full blast while he huddled next to me like a penguin in winter. He’d pass gas, I’d scream. He’d laugh, I’d threaten divorce—and five minutes later we’d both be laughing so hard I forgot what I was supposed to be mad about.

Somehow menopause didn’t break us.
The gas didn’t end us.
If anything, they bonded us.

Because when you can survive hot flashes, sound effects, and still choose each other—you’re doing something right.

We’re growing old together.
He’s coming with noise.
I’m coming in with heat waves.

And honestly? I wouldn’t trade this loud, sweaty, blanket-hogging, gas-powered love for anything. This is our marriage—almost perfect, but not quiet, but its full of love, joy, laughter, and occasionally… air freshener.

Lesson learned:
Marriage isn’t about staying young or polished. It’s about staying committed, laughing through the awkward seasons, and choosing each other—even when one of you smells like regret over the last bite of that cheese enchilada and the other is melting.

Remember Love is patience when he passes gas. Kindness when you’re sweating. And self-control when you want to smother him with his own blanket.

Scripture to match the moment:
“Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”
—1 Corinthians 13:7

Yes. All things. Including menopause and mysterious noises.

With love (and Ozeme, this stuff really works),
From Your Friend, It’s me Lorie