As the years pass, and I write a new anniversary post, I wonder how to capture the year gone by.
We celebrated 12 years of marriage. At the end of this year, we’ll have been together 15 years. A third of our lives.
This was a good year.
An uneventful marriage year. But only uneventful marriage-wise.
We survived the surreal Hurricane Harvey in the fall. It upended our “routine” for quite some time, but nothing like those who are still without a home. It also resulted in a new job for Bray. This second grade year for the kids was also the first year both Bray and I worked and did not have a nanny. Talk about a marriage strain. I had a health scare. Little bit had surgery. We had ups and downs with the kids and with each other and with our jobs.
12 years came.
With no fanfare.
The five of us spent the weekend in Horseshoe Bay, so our Sunday anniversary celebration consisted of breakfast at Mockingbird Café, a long road trip, and a good bottle of champagne on our back patio after dinner while the kids watched t.v.
I went back and read my anniversary posts. I love Year 10. Not only was it a good, hard but good, marriage year, but it reminded me of where we’ve been. And where we’re going.
Do you know he makes coffee the night before so we’ll have fresh coffee when we wake up? Even when he’s wiped out. He makes coffee. Even when I heckle him because I didn’t like that bag of beans or it came out too strong. He makes coffee.
I love so many things about marriage. And so many things are crazy hard about marriage because, you know, we’re two totally different people.
But that coffee every morning. Man, that is the best illustration of our marriage.
He shows up. Every day. On the days I’m good and charming and encouraging and amorous and funny. But he still totally shows up on the days I’m sad or losing my temper or sarcastic or inconsistent.
I remembered a sad story from my childhood on Thursday night. We were lying in bed and I was thinking about this super hard thing my best friend is going through with her husband. And I told him this story, tears leaking out of my eyes, lying next to each other in the dark. Honestly, I don’t think I’d remembered this fight between my parents since it happened over 30 years ago.
Then I said what I believe right now at this 12 year mark to be utterly true. It’s not easy. And we don’t have a perfect marriage. But after watching my parent’s marriage struggle and then fail, and after seeing the savage attacks and fallout in friends marriages, I am profoundly grateful. I am thankful my children see us love one another.
We love our little people fiercely. And love one another.
We say I love you, every day. And kiss each other goodbye.
I do not take one more anniversary for granted. God has given us more than could have asked or imagined. (Eph. 3:20)
Lucinda Oiler says