Thirteen years ago today, God gave me the best human blessing of my life. On a joy-filled gorgeous day on the shores of Lake Tahoe, surrounded only by our immediate family, I married my sweetheart.
The whole world seemed to enter into our joy. There’s something about seeing God bring people together who are older that restores hope and increases happiness, in ripples that spread far beyond the couple to everyone who hears. Younger brides can get confused sometimes and think they got their guy because of their stunning beauty or winsome personality, or because it’s just the natural way of the world. I knew it had nothing to do with me and could only be due to God’s grace. After years of being a bridesmaid and having bridal bouquets purposely hurled at me, it was my turn to spread the joy. I was more than happy to oblige.
My joy was even more significant because less than a year before, I had endured the deepest loss of my life. When I left the home and people I love in Eastern Europe, I entered a long season of tearing down and weeping. Uprooting and losing. Mourning.
“This, too, shall pass” proved true. The season passed. And it was followed by one I never expected in my wildest dreams. One of laughing and dancing. Building and planting. A season of keeping.
I had known Steve for a long time. I knew he was a good man, kind and loyal, one who followed Christ without wavering. Now I’ve been able to experience that steadfastness every day for 13 years. He likes to keep me on my toes, however. Three years ago, the day before our anniversary, he had four stents put in his heart. And just a couple weeks ago, he walked away from a head-on collision.
I’m constantly reminded that life can be short. Maybe that’s easier to see when you get married older. I don’t ever want to take Steve for granted. Each new day we’re given of life, and of life together, is a precious gift from God that I want to appreciate.
I’m very grateful. And extremely blessed.