My blogging has been pretty inconsistent. I find myself thinking about family things I want to record, and then the business of the days creep in, and the posts are never written. Not today. Today deserves a post. One day, if my kids ever take the time to read this blog, I want them to know how much their parents loved each other. Today is a perfect example.
Aaron asked me on a breakfast date. It may not sound exciting or romantic to some. In fact, if I were invited on a breakfast date as a teen, I'm not sure I would have been as enthusiastic as I was this morning. Dates were meant for weekend nights and required hours of primping and preparation. When Aaron and I first began dating, I would have a weight like a stone in my stomach and goosebumps all over in nervous anticipation as I waited for him to pick me up.
This morning, I still felt the thrill. Instead of butterflies and goosebumps, there was a warmth in my chest and tears stinging my eyes. The joy! The joy of going on a date - any date - with my handsome husband! He had an early morning work call he could take from home, so he suggested we go out to breakfast together afterward. There was no time to primp. Lunches needed to be made, laundry started, children fed. I donned jeans and a teeshirt, noticing more salt than pepper in my hair as I combed it. Crows feet stamped the corners of my eyes, but they didn't bother me. They were evidence of years of smiles - most from our 20+ years together.
This is joy. This is love. This is the gift. It is not a free gift. There is a cost. Love like this is not a feeling. It is not fleeting or altered by circumstance. It is a daily choice. It is the choice to spend time together whenever possible. It is the choice to treat someone kindly when they are driving you crazy. It is the choice to embrace imperfections. Both people must make these choices over and over and over. And when that happens, year after year, the result is a quiet, confident love - one that assures you you are are fully known, fully accepted, and fully loved. It is a beautiful thing.
So this morning, I am celebrating our marriage. I'm celebrating our beautifully mundane extraordinary breakfast date. Today I celebrate us. I love you, Aaron.
Aaron asked me on a breakfast date. It may not sound exciting or romantic to some. In fact, if I were invited on a breakfast date as a teen, I'm not sure I would have been as enthusiastic as I was this morning. Dates were meant for weekend nights and required hours of primping and preparation. When Aaron and I first began dating, I would have a weight like a stone in my stomach and goosebumps all over in nervous anticipation as I waited for him to pick me up.
This morning, I still felt the thrill. Instead of butterflies and goosebumps, there was a warmth in my chest and tears stinging my eyes. The joy! The joy of going on a date - any date - with my handsome husband! He had an early morning work call he could take from home, so he suggested we go out to breakfast together afterward. There was no time to primp. Lunches needed to be made, laundry started, children fed. I donned jeans and a teeshirt, noticing more salt than pepper in my hair as I combed it. Crows feet stamped the corners of my eyes, but they didn't bother me. They were evidence of years of smiles - most from our 20+ years together.
This is joy. This is love. This is the gift. It is not a free gift. There is a cost. Love like this is not a feeling. It is not fleeting or altered by circumstance. It is a daily choice. It is the choice to spend time together whenever possible. It is the choice to treat someone kindly when they are driving you crazy. It is the choice to embrace imperfections. Both people must make these choices over and over and over. And when that happens, year after year, the result is a quiet, confident love - one that assures you you are are fully known, fully accepted, and fully loved. It is a beautiful thing.
So this morning, I am celebrating our marriage. I'm celebrating our beautifully mundane extraordinary breakfast date. Today I celebrate us. I love you, Aaron.
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