A Lovey Place

Last weekend, I had the best day I've had in a long time.  I relaxed on the beach with friends and family; I let the waves carry me to shore.  It's definitely a lovey place for me.  I feel so peaceful and hopeful there.  I'm very small in this big world; looking out over the vast, seemingly unending ocean confirms it.  It comforts me when I reminded of how truly great our God is. 

The only thing wrong with the day was that the twins were not there.  They just don't like the beach.  They are hot, there's no where for them to sit comfortably, and the waves are just scary for us all--it's certainly not their lovey place.  I left them at home with the sitter.  I always feel torn about having a really good time with Hannah and Sarah and leaving the twins behind.  Even if it is best for all of us, I miss having our whole family together.

Later that night I had a wonderful dinner alone with my husband.  Long looks and talks that warmed my heart and reminded me that as we celebrated 15 years of marriage we are still in this together.  We are still in it for each other.  It's so hard to sift through the children, house, bills, animals, friends, family, and just general life and find each other.  I have to remind myself that he's the same guy I looked up into the stands of a minor league baseball game and noticed in the crowd.  The guy I didn't particularly like when I talked to him for the first time more than eighteen years ago.  The guy who perhaps accidentally picked up my hand and walked into a life with me that neither of us could have imagined.

The guy who held on.  The funny, smart, distracted, sometimes goofy guy who stayed.  He fell in love with all of his girls and even in our hardest days when the kids are screaming and the house is a mess and the world is on our shoulders, he stays.  He willingly works hard for our family and makes me want to work harder. Honestly, sometimes I wonder what in the world either of us is doing here, then we have a day, a dinner, a look, and we connect. I remember that God joined us together and I hold tighter to my husband. 

I certainly don't have a perfect marriage.  I can say without a doubt that we do have a purposeful marriage that we have each invested everything we have in.  I love that I can sit across the table and feel genuinely happy that I married him. 

When little, tiny, 6 week old,  NICU Emily was diagnosed with cerebral palsy, the Neurologist at some point during his colorful diagnostic recitation of our new life told us that divorce rates for couples with children with disabilities is around 80% and we should be careful.  Divorce rates?  Disabilities?  What?

I've thought of those words many times over the years.  Times when my marriage has been a challenge and when it's been a joy.  I thought of the times I opened my heart to him, no matter how broken it may have been.  When I have been disappointed in him, in life, or in myself.  I think of those divorce rates and wonder how it is that I just looked across the table at the same man who held my hand as a doctor delivered news that changed us forever, and against all odds, still holds on.

One word.  God.

He changed the way I thought of marriage.  He softens my heart when I am hurting and long to harden it in my human efforts to protect myself.  He opens my eyes to the way my husband cares for our children, even when it's not my way.  He whispers His love language, which is love itself into my life.  He opens His word and His promises to reassure, when I just don't know.  He allows me the joy of witnessing my husband's faith and  family leadership grow.  He allows me to look into the eyes of our four daughters, each of whom love their Daddy uniquely.  They see him as their world.  When I look at my marriage through God's eyes, how could I not stay?  There are no divorce rates or statistics that can separate me from a perfect love that teaches me to love.

An anniversary gift given to us first by God, one we freely give to each other, and re-gift to our children. 

A Lovey Place.