Ten years ago my husband asked me to marry him. He got down on one knee with my middle school students looking out the windows of our classroom. He had his basketball team holding signs that spelled out, “Will U Marry Me?” He got down on one knee, and . . . honestly, everything after that is kind of a blur. I’m sure he worked hard on exactly what to say, but it doesn’t seem as important as the fact he asked for forever and I said yes.
Ten years later, the towels we got as wedding gifts are showing their age. We probably are too, even though I look at our engagement pictures and feel like we just took them yesterday. We posed for the camera in our color coordinating clothes—holding hands, leaning against trees, and smiling naturally because we made each other laugh. We still make each other laugh.
When I look at that picture, I remember feeling that there had never been two people who loved each other as much as we loved each other. Now I know that’s not true. Our love is more passionate, more forgiving, more patient, more tender, and more of everything I thought it was in the early days of bliss.
We wake up together, ready to face another day together. We fix meals, wash dishes, change diapers, give baths, read bedtime stories, check the weather in Ethiopia, talk about his new ideas for loving our church and my ideas for writing a new book—all together.
On our anniversary of getting engaged, we look back on ten years together, seven years with David, five years with James (two years with his autism diagnosis), three years of being in the adoption process, and we are thankful. Thankful for each other. Thankful love grows as families grow. Thankful love grows as waistlines grow. Thankful God’s grace covers it all.