Thursday, January 3, 2013
Eleven...and Much Grace
We were babies. Just twenty years old. Not even legal.
We were crazy. Crazy in love.
On Christmas day of our senior year he said, "I know I shouldn't, but I can't help but say it. I love you."
I told him I loved him, too. I had loved him since the ninth grade.
We took long walks that Christmas break. And we had serious talks...about when we thought we could marry.
By spring break he had a plan. We'd cash out our savings and buy some property in Colorado and live off the land. I told him my dad would kill me.
So we went to University together and were engaged the summer after our sophomore year. We married the following January.
We were poor. We were so poor. We lived on love. And ate a lot of Ramen Noodles. When you're married and you're young and in love, Ramen Noodles taste awfully delicious. And being poor is quite wonderful. Even when you are hot, hot, hot in the summer and cold, cold, cold in the winter because you don't run the window unit or the heater - because you can't afford to.
And here we are today. Eleven years later. All and only because of God's grace.
We went dancing in the minefields. And it has been the sweetest, hardest, most frustrating, dying to self, see my sin all the time, most wonderfully satisfying, would do it again in a heartbeat adventure of my life.
Happy Eleventh Anniversary, my love. I love you and I thank God for you.