8 Years and Counting

The best day of our 8 years

This week marks 8 years of marriage.  8 solid years.  When I think back to 1:30 pm on June 14^th, 2003, I thought I loved him.  And I did.  I didn’t understand comments like, “Your love will grow over the years.”  How could I possibly love him more? 

But they were right.  My love for him has grown over the years.  We have certainly gone through our peaks and valleys, like any marriage.  But those peaks and valleys are ours.  They are what has defined us. 

Another piece of marriage advice people gave us was, “Marriage is work.”  What?  Work?  How could loving someone so entirely perfect be work?  But then we had our first married fight.  The realization that there was no “breaking up” if this wasn’t resolved was……interesting.  Ah-ha, this is what they meant by work. 

Eight years ago, our biggest worry was getting back from the bars in time to let the dog out.  Since then we have dealt with his job and the travel, my mom’s cancer, infertility, my depression, the deaths of grandparents, pre-term labor,  two heart attacks, the formation of a charter school, building two houses – can you say stress? a Master’s degree, and  a life-changing, near-death accident (not necessarily in that order…).   While some of these things aren’t all bad (the job stuff, the houses), they definitely brought about certain challenged we needed to overcome. 

I don’t think we are alone in our laundry list of crap.  I think each marriage has an itemized list of things that can either tear you apart, or refine your love. 

As I look at Annessa, I pray that she finds what I have found: A man who knows what God’s plan is for a marriage.  A man that makes her laugh.  A man that is worth the work. And a man that she will love more and more with each crappy situation that is bound to poke its way into their perfect life.