Tuesday, June 30, 2015

The years, how they fly!

We've been goofballs since the beginning!
Five years ago, I put on a dress, prayed my family wouldn't come ruin the day, and got married.

Five years. In some ways it feels like forever, and in other ways feels like we married only yesterday. It's certainly been a journey, and not at all like I thought it would be.

The truth is, Dave isn't the husband I want.

He's the husband God knew I needed.

And there's such a difference. He doesn't leave me love notes on Facebook (a good thing; it would do nothing but prod my pride). He doesn't agree with everything I say, or let me get away with crap. Marriage is so hard because it's a mirror, and a lot of times, the reflection isn't pretty. Because I'm not. And it's agonizing because you wound each other, and hello, this is the person that more than anyone else you do not want to hurt! But you do. Time and time again. And despite my ugliness, he is married to me anyway.

No wonder me and Dave are the perfect metaphor for me and Jesus. Because sometimes I don't see how Dave stays married to me. And most days I don't know why Jesus sticks with me, either.

I'm so shocked by Dave's love, sometimes, and I think I always will be. Because deep down, I still find myself so unloveable; someone only God could love. I'm so thankful for the gift Dave is to me. For his silliness and his leadership. For how he can read past my shroud of indifference and know when I'm upset. For being an open place for me to dump the truth of how I'm feeling. For tickling me and picking on me, because that's flirting at its best, and it lets me know he still wants me.

He is my best friend. My compliment. He is strong where I am weak, and when he cannot go on I pick him up and carry him. So much of marriage is one of you being that wounded soldier on the battlefield, and the other hoisting them up and carrying them. We've rotated that role for five years now. And I wouldn't want to do it with anyone else.

It took us so long to figure out that we loved each other, or even liked each other (I think most of you knew it before we did). There was no moment of head-over-heels for either of us; no staggering realization that we were in love. It happened so fast we didn't see it coming, and so naturally that once it did happen, it was like it had been that way all along.

I lived so many years expecting to fall in love, and waiting for it.

You know how when the seasons change, you wait and look each day for the trees to change? I do this every season, peeking at trees on the drive to and from work. You wait and watch, then go to bed and wait and watch the next day. Then all of a sudden you're driving to work and realize, "Wow, the trees changed!" This thing you were waiting for and expecting, but it managed to sneak up on you anyway.

Falling in love with Dave was like that.

He came along right when I needed him. And he stuck. He brings so much joy to my life; so much laughter and rest as he calls out my fear and helps me trust Jesus.

The first book I wrote was about a girl named Rie and a guy, Marus, who loves her and rescues her. Dave (who abhors reading) never read the story, but he heard me talk about bits and pieces of it. I was giving him a hard time one day about not having read it, and he said he knew what it was about. So I said, "Ok, what's it about?"

And he said, "It's about you and me, and how I rescued you."

Yes, baby, that's exactly what it is. Funny how you show up in every story I write...

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