I would choose you again.

Today, 7 years ago I married my husband, on April 7th, 2007.

I’ve always had a weird fetish with the number 7. Our love affair started when I turned 7 years old. That year I got my first sports bra and got my ears pierced. I was suddenly a woman, and suddenly fascinated with the number 7. What does this have to do with what I’m about to say?

Nothing. I just thought you should know so you could pray for me.

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For seven years, each morning as I awoke I chose Matt, and I would choose him a thousand times again, without question.

With the rain beating down on the skylight window I began the morning clean up . It was early and I was still tired from 17 days ago, when Adah , our youngest woke up for a party at 3 am. In our bed. Again. At least I think it was 17 days ago, it may have been last night, but I don’t know.

Loading the dishes in the dishwasher, a song came on my Pandora that I can safely say I’ve heard maybe once since our wedding day. It was the Etta James song , ” At last.” We had our first dance to that song. I was holding back my tears , so happy, so ready to start our lives together on that dance floor.

We have so many pictures from that moment. So many eyes were upon us , well wishes and happy tears were cried. We were young and in love, with no clue what our future would hold. We just knew whatever happened, we wanted it to happen together.

“My love has come along
My lonely days over
And life is like a song

Ooh Yeah, Yeah, At last
The skies above are blue
My heart was wrapped up in clover
The night I looked at you

I found a dream
That I could speak to
A dream that I can call my own
I found a thrill
To press my cheek to
A thrill that I have never known

You smile
You smile
Oh and then the spell was cast
And here we are in heaven
For you are mine at last”

Seven years, three kids, six houses, so many cars, so much laughter, so many disappointments, so many blessings, so many heavenly encounters later here we are. At last.

At last I choose him. Every diaper I change. Every meal I cook. Every kiss goodnight. Every disagreement resolved. We choose each other.

I get to marry him all over again when I see a glimpse of his character in our son. I marry him again when I see how our girls adore his million kisses in the mornings. I get to marry him again when we talk about our future. The dreams we once separately had are now intertwined into one big plan.

 

We’ve come a long way, us two. Just kids on that dance floor. Life’s events grew us up quickly , and sometimes harshly. But I’m grateful. So grateful.

I’m not certain of how many laughs we will have this year, or how many heartaches, but I am certain of how much I love him. I’m certain that we are bonded together through our Papa. I’m certain that I will love him more. And enjoy his company. After all, I married my best friend.

Carry On, Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life