18

It was a steamy hot day.  May 17^th marked 18 years since that day when everything changed.  The preacher and the dresses and flowers and food were all set.  We said I do, drove off to the beach, and began the most beautiful journey of our lives. 

We had no idea what we were doing.  We were kids, but we were kids in love.  The minute I saw his dirty hat and saw the way he looked at me, I knew.  But that’s really all I knew.  Now, almost two decades later, I’m in awe of all that living so many days side by side is teaching us.

18 years.  That’s a lot of days.  What does 18 years require?  A lot. 

It requires:

being honest, painfully honest, and forgiving when you’re not 

putting each other first, and forgiving when you don’t  

discussing and understanding, and forgiving when you can’t 

using your words to build the other up, and forgiving when you haven’t

loving and sharing and engaging when you’re spent, and forgiving when you won’t 

holding your tongue, and forgiving when you didn’t

It takes a lot of laughing and explaining and confessing and listening.

It takes a lot of words: difficult words, angry words, loving words, confused words, funny words, grace-filled words, forgiving words, misunderstood words, clarifying words, encouraging words.

A lot of coffee, pancakes, hammocking, cover stealing, teeth brushing, back scratching, sleeping in, late nights, over sleeping, stubbed toes, oh sh@!s, which shoe?’s, I like burnt cookies’s, grocery, laundry, busy, boring, bike rides, we should pray’s. 

A lot of smiles and frowns and tears and whispers and shouts.  A lot of I love you’s and a lot of I’m sorry’s.  So many I’m sorry’s.  A lot of this is difficults’s and more God is good’s than I can count.

I love being married, and I especially love the man I married. 

But I don’t wave the number 18 as a badge of pride.  It is a banner of hope.

Hope that good things are ahead, hope that staying is worth it.  Marriage can be difficult and requires a lot, but it gives so much more.