Not long ago, a wedding invitation arrived, carried on the autumn breeze. It was adorned with elegant gold lettering, and the envelope bore the name “Mrs. Doris Martinez”—a familiar name from the American church I once pastored.

“To unite two lives and two hearts in eternal love, Bride Doris Martinez and Groom Donald Halstead invite you to share the happiest day of their new life together.”

Our whole family gasped in disbelief.

The bride and groom, both nearing eighty, were inviting us to celebrate “the happiest day of their new life.” At an age when most people are winding down, they were beginning again—with hearts full of hope. We couldn’t help but send our blessings.

I had met Doris at a concert that spring. She was radiant with excitement. Her aging eyelids trembled, and her bloodshot eyes shimmered with a joy she could hardly contain. She leaned in and whispered:

“This is a secret… but I’ve fallen in love! We might be getting married soon.”

Her expression made my surprise seem silly.

“Who is it?” I asked. “D… Donald,” she replied.

“Really?” I asked again and again, unable to believe it. But she kept smiling proudly, her cheeks blushing like a shy girl. I hugged her tightly, and even her hunched back—curved like a little hill—felt tender and lovable that day.

Years ago, Doris had battled cancer. Fearing she might not live to see her golden anniversary, she celebrated it ten years early with a grand ceremony. The whole family and congregation gathered at church, and the pastor officiated a 40th wedding celebration. But life is in God’s hands. Doris, once expected to die, remained healthy—while her husband Manny, strong and well, passed suddenly from a heart attack.

Doris, strong-willed and stubborn, had spent her life as a Chrysler dealership manager. Though she lived comfortably on the inheritance from her husband and parents, she needed someone. Her groom, Donald, was a refined gentleman with striking manners. He had married three times, but tragically, each wife had died of cancer. He had lived a long, lonely life, always searching for someone to love. I never met his late wives, but I’ll never forget the quiet longing in his eyes.

The desire to love is life itself. It makes us forget ourselves. Love cultivates the soil of eternal youth. Age does not make us ugly. To love is to live at the center of life—not its margins. Love brings pain and sorrow, but it also gives us the strength to endure.

I imagine her soon, walking down the church aisle in a dazzling white dress. As I gaze out the window, the cold wind rushes through bare branches, and I realize her eighty years of life have passed in a blink. Yet even in life’s final chapter, her passion to unite with another soul touches the mystery of sacred love. And suddenly, I begin to understand the Scripture that says: Christ is the bridegroom, and the church is His bride.