Today is our second wedding anniversary! That’s 730 days now, so that’s pretty awesome. In fact, that’s 658 more days than Kim Kardashian and Chris Humphries…but that’s not really something to brag about, so never mind.
I get anxious whenever I hear things like, “The first/fifth/seventh/twentieth year is the hardest.” I look back on the last two years and I wonder, Have they been a fluke? Are all the exceptionally hard things hiding in the shadows somewhere, waiting to pounce on us in the midst of all the fun we’re having? Does the fun continue, or does it fade with babies and mortgages and funerals?
Because the last two years have been fun. Though we captained a sinking church plant to the bottom of the ocean whilst living well below the federal poverty line and far away from family and friends, it’s been a grand ole time, don’t you think? I love our little life in the Midwest, and the knowledge that you and I had a ball building it together makes me think that the best (Baton Rouge and St. Louis and then only God knows) is yet to come. I think the world has told us wrong, Theo. Marriage isn’t a ball and chain…life might be from time to time, but you and I? We’re a party.
Someone commented the other day about how we are proof of the saying “Opposites attract.” It’s true: we’re probably the closest two people can come to being Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark without all the archery and death and baking. I’m the dark-haired to your blond, the quiet to your outspoken, the night owl to your early bird, the stubborn to your easy-going. I drive the long distances; you do the parallel parking. I develop; you pioneer. You hold my hand when I’m having a meltdown over finances or my lack of professional career fulfillment; I hold the extra screws when you are angry at the pot rack for not hanging correctly on the kitchen wall.
Variety is the spice of marriage, it seems. This, combined with the infallible truth that nothing can drag down your sense of humor for long, convinces me that at least I’ll never be bored.
A little over a week ago, we were at our dear friends’ wedding. It was beautiful and joyous and fun, and as I listened to them echo the things we promised each other two years ago, I couldn’t help but evaluate myself. Have I lived with you in holiness according to the Word of God? Have I loved you, respected you, comforted you, honored you, submitted to you, kept you in the good and the bad, in sickness and in health? I hope I’ve done my best (remember that time I went to Schnuck’s at midnight to get you some hydrogen peroxide and bandages for the four inch gash you got playing softball? Or the time(s) you brought someone home for dinner unexpectedly even though the apartment was a wreck and I just smiled and dished up another plate?), but I’m not perfect, as you well know, and I’m so grateful that you love me anyway. My record of ‘rights’ is short compared to my record of ‘wrongs’ (which I know you don’t keep, because you’re forgiving like that), but I promise to keep on keeping my promises.
In the meantime, thank you for fixing the garage door and the shower drain and the ice maker and the dryer and the bed frame and the linen closet door and the bookcase. And for replacing my car battery at one in the morning. And for salting the sidewalk when it ices so that I don’t slip and fall. Thank you for not being upset when I don’t get the laundry done like I said I would and you have to wear a dirty shirt to class. Thank you for introducing me to Doctor Who and the intricacies of baseball and lacrosse. Thank you for not getting too annoyed when I mix up Obi Wan Kenobi and Han Solo. Thank you for loving, serving, and leading me like Christ loves, serves, and leads the church. And thank you for making me laugh even when I don’t want to.
Happy anniversary, Theo. I can’t wait for at least sixty more.