We were babies (almost literally – I can’t believe we got married when I was 20). We had no idea how much we didn’t know.
And as I look back on these fifteen years of glory, my instinct is to go to the “high points,” the mountaintop experiences and accomplishments. We’ve had plenty of those. We’ve traveled the world together.
(And the small joys – ohmygoodness, I laugh every time I see the forehead hickey you gave yourself!)
We’ve brought two babies into this world.
And we’ve added two more to our family through adoption.
Our 15 years of marriage have been filled with incredible joy.
And yet…I’ve had that line from Hallelujah running through my head – “love is not a victory march; it’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah.”
We’ve had our fair share of cold and broken hallelujahs too.
We’ve done counseling and Zoloft. We’ve had our fights. I’ve dropped to my knees and cried out to God in tearful prayers of brokenness and desperation. We’ve looked death in the face (I just can’t bring myself to post the pictures here right now, but, readers, you can scroll back through these posts if you haven’t seen them already).
I don’t know what the next 15 years hold for us. A part of me is terrified to find out.
When we start to drift away, I trust that we’ll turn back toward one another, over and over and over again.
I’m thankful for many years of knowing you, of doing life with you, of reading good books and having great conversations, of being real and genuine and vulnerable, of hurting each other and making amends, of hard work, of loving and serving, of triumphs and celebrations, of victory marches and broken hallelujahs. And I pray that we’ll have many more to come.