F.L.Y. After 50
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Clarity, Confidence & Conversations That Matter


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F.L.Y. After 50
Archives
Clarity, Confidence & Conversations That Matter

Jayme Swan
Jan 8, 2026
Trivia Question❓Which mineral plays a key role in bone strength, nerve signaling, muscle function, and heart rhythm — yet many women over 50 don’t absorb it as efficiently as they used to? Answer at the bottom of the newsletter |
The Conversation We Never Had
A month had passed since the last incident, and on the surface, life felt calm again. Too calm. I was relieved to have all that chaos behind us… but if I’m being honest,
I was also nervous. Things were going too well. And every time that happens, I start side-eyeing the universe, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I didn’t want drama — but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still brewing.
Wedding planning kept me busy enough to quiet my thoughts. My fiancé and my girls were in full swing — bridesmaids’ dresses picked, groomsmen tuxes locked in, venue secured, deposits paid.
Everything was coming together beautifully.
Almost too beautifully.
The only thing we hadn’t talked about was who would actually marry us. Duane hadn’t mentioned it, and I hadn’t pushed the conversation. I knew he was spiritual in his own way, but I’d never seen him in church or heard him talk much about prayer. I, on the other hand, grew up in church — like grew up grew up. Sunday mornings, Bible study, prayer meetings… all of it. But life had lifed, and I hadn’t been consistent in years.
I knew I couldn’t ask my old pastor. Duane wasn’t a member, and truth be told, neither was I anymore. My parents still attended, but that didn’t exactly give me a free pass.
So I called my cousin — the one who’s a pastor.
He agreed to marry us… with one condition.
Five sessions of premarital counseling.
I didn’t see the problem. Honestly, I thought it sounded responsible.
Grown. Necessary.
So I said yes.
That night, after dinner, Duane and I were stretched out in the living room, half-watching TV, half-dozing, when I casually brought it up.
“So… I talked to my cousin today,” I said. “He said he’d marry us.”
Silence.
Not the comfortable kind either.
I turned my head and looked at him. His whole energy had shifted. His jaw was tight. His eyes distant. That ease he’d had five minutes earlier?
Gone.
“Babe,” I asked carefully, “you okay? You look upset.”
“I’m not upset,” he said slowly. “I’m just… confused.”
“Confused how?”
“I thought whoever officiates weddings at the resort would handle it.
Why didn’t we talk about this first? Why do we need your cousin?”
I sat up a little. “Okay… are you upset that I didn’t talk to you before asking? Or are you upset because it’s my cousin?”
He exhaled. “To be honest, I don’t think we need marriage counseling.
After everything we’ve already been through — and the counseling we did early on — shouldn’t that be enough?”
“I hear you,” I said. “But I don’t want some random stranger marrying us.
If it can’t be my old pastor, I’d rather it be family.”
“What pastor?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “What church? I’ve never known you to go to church, and you’ve never mentioned a pastor before. This is all new to me.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“Hold up,” I said. “Just because you haven’t seen me go to church doesn’t mean I never did. When we first started dating, I was still going.
I grew up in church. And I do have a pastor.”
He held his hands up. “Okay. I’m just saying I didn’t know how much it meant to you. I’m not a church man. I believe in being kind, treating people right. I believe in karma. I believe there’s something bigger than us. I pray to the universe. I meditate. That’s as far as it goes for me.”
As he talked, something uncomfortable settled in my spirit.
We had never had this conversation.
Not really.
I’d assumed — because of the man he was — that we believed the same things. That one day we’d just… end up walking into church together. But the truth was, life had distracted me. I’d let circumstances slow me down. I still prayed. I still opened my Bible sometimes. But I wasn’t as committed as I once was.
And suddenly I had to ask myself a question I wasn’t ready for:
When did I start putting God second?
My mother’s voice echoed in my head — reminding me to pray, to give it to God — the night before that whole Crystal mess. I’d heard her… but had I really listened?
“So what are you saying?” I asked quietly. “You’re not even willing to meet my cousin and then decide?”
“I don’t know if we need to,” he said. “Why not just use the officiant at the resort and skip the counseling altogether?”
“I don’t think counseling is a bad thing,” I replied. “We’ve been through a lot lately. And the fact that we’ve never talked about faith? That’s big for me. I grew up in church. Prayer matters to me.”
“No offense,” he said gently, “but I’ve never seen you go to church. I’ve never seen you reading a Bible or praying. I’m not saying you don’t — just that I haven’t seen it.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“When we first started dating, we weren’t living together,” I said. “You wouldn’t have seen it. I don’t know when or why my relationship with my faith shifted… but it never disappeared.”
“I’m not knocking it,” he said. “I just didn’t grow up that way. I found peace on my own. I don’t need a room full of people to tell me who I am.
I like the man I’ve become.”
And that’s when it hit me.
Hard.
How did I miss this?
Why didn’t we talk about this before?
Am I about to marry a man I’m unequally yoked with?
And the scariest question of all… Where do we go from here?
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Why It’s Perfect After 50 |
Joke Of The Day |
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Quote Of The Day |
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💡 Answer to Trivia Question: ✨ Magnesium |
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