Nine years married

Confession: I very nearly forgot our anniversary today. Sentimental celebrations aren’t my strong suit, but you’d think this one would stick, particularly after how hard we’ve had to fight to make it this far.

Nine years married.

The number 9 marks the end of a cycle–it’s as high up as you can go without starting a new set. It’s a pinnacle, a tipping point, the home stretch. We made it.

What’s ahead of us is 10, the number of divine perfection. Which seems like a lot to ask from any human, but especially from you and me. There’s been so much hurt and anger and sadness that sometimes we think it’ll never be better. Good thing we’re not the ones doing the work. Not really. The One who’s both divine and perfect is still working hard to make us complete, individually and together. He’s been faithful to heal us of what’s past; now he’s ready to lead us into a future that’s bright with a love we never imagined even on the day we said, “I do.”

I don’t know what will happen in this next year. I learned a long time ago that trying to predict our future is at best a dreamer’s game. Man makes his plans, etc, etc.

But I do know two things for sure:

1)  The payoff is coming. Our years of love and tears and faith will bear fruit. It won’t always be hard; it’s getting easier all the time. All we have to do is stay present, and God will restore us twofold.

2) I want us to always look at each other this way. We did once. We will again.

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