I got married on January 8th, 2011. It was a lovely day, created for us by some fantastic people at my home church in Little Rock. The ceremony was short, the cake was delicious, tons of friends and family were there, the church was lovely, the dress fit, the attendants were perfect. And it was all paid for in cash. (That’s not really important to the story, but I’m very proud of it.) I said this on the day of our wedding and I’ll say it again: it was exactly the wedding I wanted.
Fast forward one year and two days. We’re still married. We’re still at a loss for how to be married a lot. We’re still in love. We’re still best friends. And I’m still so glad I married the best person I know. As ubiquitous as it is to hear coming from Christians, I’m impossibly blessed to be married to him. He’s taken a part-time job to pay off debt that I brought into the marriage; he loves my cat; he just smiles and listens when I’m crazy; he holds my hair back when I’m sick and leaves the house late at night to get Tums. I think I’ll keep him.
You know, marriage is supposed to be a reflection of Christ’s relationship with the church. I know so little about marriage, but I do know this: we are forgiven all the time. And we are loved all the time. It would never work otherwise. I’m blessed to be married to a man for whom forgiveness is a natural pattern. Unfortunately for him, he’s married to a woman who has to work a little harder at it. However, she can cook and she loves football, so I imagine that’s got to help. In all seriousness though, in our desire to have a marriage that glorifies God, I keep being taught so many things about forgiveness. The only thing I know to be true about marriage is that if you’re going to be remotely happy, you have to forgive. I’m thankful that Stephen does. And I’m thankful for what marriage is teaching me about forgiveness.
I’d give you the highlights of the year, but you’re not interested in that. It was a good year though: Vegas, new car, gigantic fight that the cat puked in the middle of, Stephen saying funny things in his sleep, my inability to say no to anything free, trips to Jackson, Oxford, Little Rock, Russellville, New Orleans, and Hot Springs. And at the end of it all, I get to say this: I’m still convinced that there’s not any one person for any one other person. Marriage is just too hard for that. What I’m thankful for is that I’ve married someone who’s willing to do the work. And who’s fun and kind and smart and patient. So let’s have 60 more years.
But remember, honey, it’s only 25 years till I get my pony.