Seven Years

I woke up today and forgot for a good few hours what day it was. With one kid getting ready for school, the other following behind her big sister, a very pregnant me trying to eat something before nausea sets in and my husband watching the clock to get out the door on time, I would say I didn’t give enough thought to the calendar this mornings.

But, that is real life. We sat at the table for a moment together, him and I. The little girls played imagination in the living room while we grasped one another’s hand and stared out into the miles of rolling Irish hills scattered with greens and sheep. Seven years.

It has been nearly ten years since we met and started “doing life” together. Nearly ten years have passed since we found the Lord placed the same call in our hearts for His Kingdom in Ireland. Nearly ten years have passed since I saw a young man who fervently sought to know God and love Him with all he had.

Today, though, marks the shift and covenant day between us. Seven years of man and wife. Seven years of learning some lessons the hard way, finding that sacrifice for one another is a privilege and doesn’t feel so burdensome when it brings us together in unity. Seven years of growing and pruning and flourishing on repeat.

Marriage changed everything. All the humanity that propels you toward one another before marriage becomes the very stuff that tries to pull you apart once this covenant is made. The thief comes to steal, kill, and destroy this refining union made by God. So, we make ourselves love without conditions. We make ourselves put our eyes on Jesus when we can’t look any longer at the part of our beloved that makes us feel so very unloved. We make ourselves gather up the memories of blissful unity in case the days that are hard need to be reminded of the joy we know.

The whole day goes on like normal: school runs, grocery trips, meetings, meals, and every in between moment of real life. Dinner passes and bedtime hits with it’s silly giggles followed by screaming tantrums, soothed only by daddy singing hymns to their overtired ears.

I listen to the man I love singing to his little girls the gentlest version of Rocky Top you would ever find and the Lord knits us together in the next layer. I try to find a way to rock our newest baby to sleep in my womb. I think about our raw moments, the ones no one else will see or know, and I praise God for this man. He loves me fiercely. I love him back.

We love God more than we love each other. It has to stay that way.

Goodnight, seven years.