“Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” {1 Corinthians 13:6-7}
It's the "witching hour"; boys running wild, someone is stomping, someone is yelling, swords are slinging and some object just flew past my head. In just a moment, someone will be crying. As I empty the dishwasher, only to prepare to fill it again, I look over.
Him. My man. My best friend sits there. He's staring at me. Big boyish grin on his sweet face. This face I have loved looking at for eighteen years. "I love you.", He whispers.
I smile wide. "I love you too."
Just like that, I am undone. Even in the chaos of the moment, my hair wild, my clothes worked from the day's events. He loves me just for being me, for my love.
I look around. Dishes are piled from dinner. There are cars, stuffed animals and always a Lego strewn about. A lone sock lays on a stool. Papers and markers and crayons are spread across the table where I haven't had a chance to wipe the dinner crumbs. Oh! The crumbs! Little boy artwork is taped on the wall, pictures of stick figures and hearts and letters to represent our little family. Robots, ninjas, and hearts.
And my heart just about bursts open, again. This is the good life.
This is our love story. All the days.
Each year, love unravels simple, quiet, beauty. And I fall harder.
We met as kids. Just kids. Clueless, feeling our way through classes, grades, friends, sports and found each other again and again. The day he finally approached me, I will never forget it. "Can I call you sometime?"
Yes.
The day I became his girlfriend.
Yes.
The day he asked me to be his wife.
Yes.
I remember his eyes. Always the same deep brown pools of mystery, mischief and pure kindness.
And it's simple really.
And it's simple really.
We love each other.
We forgive each other.
We pray for each other.
We do for each other.
We protect each other.
Again and again. Yes to love. For always.
"There is love that swells the heart so full it splits and leaks an aching joy." -A. Voskamp




