I thank you, God, for a home — filled with people I love. Amen.

This week my husband and I ventured off the rock and flew to California. During work hours he attended a Navy-sponsored environmental law refresher class for civilian employees at Port Hueneme. I spent time in our nearby hometown with his parents who are, in all ways, my parents as well.

We met when we were 14 and 15, respectively. Klope son number three — a lovable, rough and tumble, animal-loving twin — became my family’s paperboy. In short order he hand delivered our daily newspapers and I began to routinely visit his family up the street.

While most of our friends and neighbors were surprised at our immediate attraction, as I was in some ways Matt’s polar opposite, it became quickly apparent we were uniquely paired. In this partnership we thrived as teens. We had Boy Scouts, church youth group activities and school athletic teams in which to participate; student government, music and dance to keep us busy. We learned to appreciate the dedicated adults who guided us. We learned how to schedule our lives; stick with tasks; work with varied personalities. We learned to be supportive of each other. Follow rules. Work hard. Have fun.

But I believe that none of that would have worked so positively had we not lived under the loving and consistent support of functioning families. Amidst all these activities they were always there, without fail. And they freely shared their lives.

At Matt’s home I was introduced to the luscious hubbub of a big family. I loved the pets, the kids, the friends, the laughter and the occasional bickering. There were cars to be fixed; backpacking trips and sports events in which to participate; musical instruments to be practiced and homework to be completed. The kitchen buzzed and the laundry room hummed.

I watched and learned. His mom taught me how to chop vegetables with a French knife and make a pie crust using their grandmother’s special recipe. She introduced me to the beauty of tableware and fabrics and gardening. She was shabby chic long before somebody came up with the branding.

I learned that couples must daily connect and take an interest in each other’s careers and lives. I learned this by watching Matt’s dad walk in the door, pour himself a small drink, and sit with his mom to discuss all that had happened since they had told each other goodbye that morning.

This week, 38 years later, I have relished at the chance to be home for a few days. The pace is slower than it used to be. The meals simpler. The house quiet. But the gift of love fills us and our being together gives testimony to the beauty of family and marriage, companionship and commitment. Around us I see a home filled with the story of our lives. And this week we’ve been gifted with time to talk, express our love for each other, and make plans for a summertime visit.

Life is good.

Reach Joan Bay Klope at faithfulliving@hotmail.com.