Thirteen years ago today, in the middle of a blizzard in rural Indiana, I married someone I thought I knew. Together we stood in front of friends and family and vowed to spend the rest of our lives together no matter what.
Since then we have lived in seven homes in three states. We have been blessed with two miracle babies (after more than four years battling infertility) and, between the two of us, have endured at least thirteen employers. We’ve had seven different cars and, until last year, never had more than one working car at a time. In all this time we have attended only three churches. We’ve read countless books, watches hundreds of movies, traveled to two countries and fourteen states. We’ve had thousands of disagreements, but only three major arguments.
I didn’t really know him thirteen years ago, but I didn’t really know me either. This weekend Rick asked me to marry him again. Absolutely. In a heartbeat.
I have no idea what the next thirteen years may bring … Oh, my. I don’t even want to imagine it! Time goes by too quickly without me picturing our kids at ages 19 and nearly 21! In spite of our beginning (the fire, blizzard, and all sorts of other mishaps) and our middle (everything mentioned and not mentioned above), I have no doubt that the future will be amazing. Not perfect, but certainly an adventure well worth the investment. Just as it has been from the moment we said “I do.”
Here’s to lucky 13.