Nine Years Ago

Nine years ago…

On a Wednesday night after church, my wedding director was trying in vain to get the timing right for the bridesmaid processional as I did the Roger Rabbit down the aisle. I couldn’t help it. How could I possibly walk normally when I felt like I was in the clouds? I actually probably danced everywhere that week. Nine years ago, I was giddy.

On a Friday night, we celebrated at our rehearsal dinner with friends and family. I ate an incredibly large portion of macaroni and cheese, we watched a slideshow of our lives so far, and then we said goodnight to each other, knowing that the next time we laid eyes on each other it would be to become husband and wife. Then I went home for one more night under my parents’ roof, and I crawled into bed with my little sister. Nine years ago, I couldn’t sleep.

On a Saturday afternoon, I was dressed all in white. The music started, the doors opened, and my daddy looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, “Have I told you lately…?” And I nodded my head and willed my mascara to stay on my eyelashes and looked up and there you were. And I grinned all the way down the aisle and through the next half hour as we said “I do” and “I will”, not really even knowing yet what that would mean. Nine years ago, I became your wife.

Nine years ago, when we told each other “I love you”, we meant it. But now there is a history behind those words. There are nine years of experiences and emotions, of sanctification and wrestling with pride and deepening awareness of our selfishness. And there are nine years of learning to depend on God alone for fulfillment and strength and grace, and of learning to forgive and be forgiven. Nine years ago, I was on a cloud, but now I know, as Ben Rector puts it, 

“There are way too many love songs
And I think they've got it all wrong
Cause life is not the mountain tops
It's the walking in between
And I like you walking next to me”

So, Coach, nine years later, you are still the only Coach I ever want. I would like to keep writing mushy stuff here but I keep getting interrupted by two lovely young girls who are very (im)patiently waiting for me to come to their “rest-ra-not” to eat some fake bean soup. This. This is the walking in between, and there is no one I would rather walk with than you.

Nine Years Later :)