Eight Years
Eight years ago, I never would have guessed that I’d be living a stone’s throw from the farm where we celebrated our vows. I wouldn’t have seen myself settled here, two kids and a house, zipping past the farm and my childhood home almost daily. I had plans for adventure, dreams of history making, people to impress. I married into a missionary family like I was buying stock in my future, eight years ago today.
I remember talking to my Dad about him, just days after the first date, expressing concern that I had big plans, and this guy seemed really… I searched for the right word, and stated it with repugnance : He seemed so stable. It didn’t have a positive connotation, like so many qualities we shun during those immature, enlightened years: the costly gifts that form us, that we throw off in disgust, only to grow thankful for later. My Dad, who chooses his words carefully in matters such as these, thought, and said only, “Stability is not a negative quality in man, Annie.” His wise words have proven true, as has the steady, intentional love of the stable man I married, eight years ago today.
In eight years, I have learned that marriage is hard work. That keeping short accounts, making repairs often, and keeping honest, heart connection a high priority are of utmost importance. I have learned how often I fail, and how healing it is to experience forgiveness, and how freeing to give the same. I am learning that vulnerability and commitment are worth the cost – usually an automatic withdrawal from my pride and convenience account.
These eight years have not gone according to my calculations. And I am thankful. Looking back, over my shoulder, I see beauty and purpose scrawled over paths that seemed to scream disappointment and roadblock. I see grace in the grey days, redemption in unlikely places, and a steady, stable, intentional love written over the whole messy thing. I am blessed beyond measure to have his hand to hold, a man who speaks and lives the Gospel to me each day, whose own steady, stable, intentional love has drawn me home.