Just like that trumpet sounding on my wedding day, I had dreamed of being married for so many years. I had dreamed of the day, the man, the dress. I had pictured family and friends and the ring and the party that would follow. I was ready.............and it was even better than I could have imagined.
For the year that Joe and I dated and the seven months engaged, I dreamed of the marriage. I wondered what it would be like to wake up each and every day with this man. What would it be like to create a home, a life with someone else? I dreamed of the dinners and the parties and the talks and the cuddling, the CHILDREN, oh how I wanted to be a mother. I couldn't wait to get there...........and it has been even better than I could have imagined.
Just recently we celebrated seven years of marriage. And, oh, how I love this man. More than the day I met him, more than the day he proposed to me and more than that magical day when we wed. I think that we talk about the commitment and work that a marriage takes. That marriage is a place, a time where love goes to fade and grow old and comfortable with one another. That love takes on a new hue and that you can get to a place where it is deeper and richer but not as passionate. I would like to disagree. Yes, I will never again kiss my dear husband for the first toe-curling time but after the kids are in bed and the lights are low and the wine has been poured I will kiss him for the 5,000th toe-curling time. It still happens. The toes still curl.
Marriage is not a place where love goes to die or wither or grow old and ONLY comfortable. Marriage was given to us from GOD. God is a passionate, loving, faithful God. The God I have read about and know does not know complacency. I am not a biblical scholar nor particularly well-read so please disagree with my thoughts, it's ok. But of this I am sure. I am passionate about my man. This man that camps out with his children even though he has been working hard all day, at the farm, in the garden, on our house, providing for his family. This man who asks at the end of my day when I am reading in bed if there is anything I need while he still has hours to go. This man who does a final check for his family, locking all doors, checking all cars, peering in on and praying for all his children. This man is our rock, our center, our stability, our protector, our joy all wrapped up in one sexy package. This marriage is not about comfort or duty or anything less than the love and passion of two people brought together by God.
Not that comfort or growing old together is not in our plan for there is comfort in a forever love. There is the comfort that comes from knowing that this man who saw you not only on your wedding day but that painful day after the third birth when the body and the mama were all tired and ugly sounding, ugly looking. There is comfort in this love that shines through those times when both were angry and wanting to be right, wanting vindication so much so that the main matter was forgotten and all that matter was I AM RIGHT. There is comfort in getting through the arguments, the discussions, the disagreements, the times when passion was not at the forefront but a sliver of thread running through a faithful marriage.
But the sliver, the passion is always there. At times it is right on the surface, so much so that all you can do is just grab onto that man and hold on. At times it is the hum you feel, what you sense as you cuddle up close after a long and tiring day. But always, always I think...............this is so much more than I ever imagined.
One of my favorite days - on a train from York some eight years ago.