Nine years

One of our first dates...

Today is my nine-year wedding anniversary.

I remember that night Tim finally proposed. I had been waiting for him to ask -- and then the did! And then I lay awake in bed that night, wide-eyed, unable to sleep (which is really rare for this girl), and maybe for the first time, really, really aware of what I had just promised.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't have a whole lot of doubts, but I think it took me saying yes to finally get that this was a big deal -- to comprehend the commitment I had just made.

But, looking back, I'm not sure that choice (which was a very good one, I might add) was any less or more important than the daily choices we've had to make since.

The choice of how hard to push when we're both sure we're right. (Yup -- we're both oldest children.)

The choice of whether or not to keep score, when it would be so easy to point out who owes who or who messed up last.

The choice to set aside time for date night -- just us -- even when the calendar is full and babysitters are expensive.

The choice to stay plugged into a community of faith, rather than to avoid vulnerability and stay cocooned inside our own house.

The choice to show love -- when my heart bleeds its true colors of selfishness, jealousy, and bitterness.

A few months ago I had the honor of writing a guest blog for a friend's marriage series. I focused on intentionality:

Tim and I grew up in the same small town, but had never met until one night after college, after I spent six, lonely months in Switzerland as nanny.  We're thankful that God waited until then to introduce us, because we're quite sure we wouldn't have been ready for each other any sooner. 

In hindsight, it’s easy to see the intentionality in God’s plan for our lives — He knew when we needed to find each other. It also seems that one of the major lessons God continues to teach us through our marriage is to model that kind of intentionality.

In Colossians 3:12-14, Paul talks about clothing yourself with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, and putting on love. This was our wedding passage, and I remember our pastor telling us there would be days we wouldn’t wake up and feel any of those emotions naturally — but we can fake it until we make it; we can make a decision to model God’s unconditional love, even when our human nature leans toward selfishness.

That advice, about "putting on" love rather than expecting it to come naturally has been the most helpful marriage wisdom I've been given.  This is also reflected in the wisdom a friend recently passed along: "Remember that children, marriages, and flower gardens reflect the kind of care they get. (H. Jackson Brown Jr.) 

Rewinding to that night of the proposal, it seems like my emotions at that time were much like those as you slowly click your way to the top of a roller coaster -- part anxiety, part excitement. But, nine years and three kids later, I can say that the our marriage has been more about small, intentional steps to walk in the light, rather than one gigantic plunge.

Which is good, because we're getting too old for roller coasters anyway.

...And nine years later.