Thirty years of marriage.
We met thirty-eight years ago. Or so.
While we did start dating in high school, we certainly have not been together since then.
But our children, or at least My Girl, thinks it is cool that we are high school sweethearts.
Not always easy.
We actually separated for a year.
He fell in love with That Girl. She was sarcastic; angry; selfish.
Among other things.
And sometimes, more often than I would like, still is.
But, he will tell you, that he loves This Girl, with all her junk and baggage, even more.
Last night, we celebrated with a rare dinner out, just the two of us. We toasted to thirty years. And three children. And then we had a moment of silence, contemplating that, even though there have been some really
rough times; painful times; we are still here
Do or die.
Taking our covenant with God, and with each other, serious.
Honestly, wanting to kill each other, or at least walk away, on many occasion. Deciding so far,
not to do either because 1) we don’t want our children to have that legacy, and 2) we do love each other, I suppose. I know.
And because, foremost, of our Covenant with the One who is jealous for us.
Last night I said, what about the next thirty?
And then we laughed. Because we know, from experience, and pain, that it can all change tomorrow; tonight.
And so we silently agree to hang in there; to love; to find Joy; some days, to choose; for the next thirty.
Or, as long as He blesses us with.
And we hope, we pray, that our children will look back, look ahead, and think, “I want that. Like my parents.” The same children who are anxious when they hear us argue. Because they have heard it so infrequently. (Because their mother shuts down with conflict? After years of rushing forward to embrace the battle.)
We have been blessed.
Daily, we ask that the Mercy continues. For us; for our children; for our family; for our friends.
Both we are undeserving of.
Both we covet.
Thirty years. How can it be even remotely possible?
The Grace of God.