This is not a typical anniversary post, but a truthful one. John and I were poor candidates to get married. Not for the reasons you might expect: race, culture, religion–these are all factors we have had to grapple with and sometimes reconcile. But the problem is that when you get together at 19, 21 respectively, your brains are not yet fully formed. When you get married at 24, 26 respectively, you might think that marriage is all about *you.* At least that was the case for me. I honestly perceived marriage as “you do your thing over there, I’ll do mine over here, and we’ll come together and talk about it over an overpriced dinner in a hipster neighborhood.” I have learned that marriage is actually about sharing everything, offering a window on your soul to another, sorting through the garbage and the fecal matter to find the prized jewel of commonality, of mutual respect.
In this marriage, I have encountered the most profound grace, the love not earned but given undeservedly. My mister and I have experienced soaring highs over the birth of our children and the community of friends and family who have supported us. We have also experienced the deepest valleys: depression, financial hardship, family pain. Through it all, and I know you were all waiting for this one, God has been so faithful, reminding us so kindly that marriage is preparing us for Heaven, where joy is multiplied, where selfish needs are set aside, where our focus is fixed on the stuff eternal.
There are moments in this marriage that could not be auto-tinted with Instagram filters to showcase the glamour and shadow the pain. This marriage has been made of raw moments, brilliant and unapologetic in living color. This marriage is not a clever hashtag, summarized in a retweetable aphorism or a Live, Laugh, Love print bought at Homegoods. In the conventions of Facebook, yes I sure did marry my best friend 9 years ago this week. And I would do it again, knowing all that I know now, and all that I do not yet know. I look forward to getting together with my sweet mister to talk about it all, even if the dinner is cheap, even if the restaurant is not trendy. We’ll order different things, but ultimately it doesn’t matter because I’ll always have what he’s having: all the joy, all the pain, and a happy ending sundae for dessert.