The year I turned 18, I met the love of my life.
Cheesy, I know.
But it was for real. Terrified by how charming, witty, and attractive Evan was, I broke up with him the day after Valentine’s Day because I was a wimp. He wooed me again two months later, and the rest is history.
Eight years ago today, I friended the famous Hottie McBody on Facebook, and I decided to write on his wall and pretend like I hadn’t noticed him at an all-nighter we were both at. (Spoiler: I noticed him. And nicknamed him Hottie McBody, because this is what teenage girls do.)
Eight years later, and you know what? I think we’ve still got it. Watching the man I fell in love with play air guitar and headbang with my sons, believe it or not, does make me a little weak in the knees.
We have seen everything we vowed to withstand together. Death, health, sickness, poverty, riches, life. He’s seen me at my worst. We’ve cried together. We’ve laughed so much over the past eight years that I’m pretty sure it sums up our marriage: downright joy.
And I honestly have no secret for how we’ve done it. I make mistakes all the time. Evan does too. We miscommunicate once a day, at least. But we have an agreement: we’re both busted up humans who need Jesus’ love. We’re both forgiven and redeemed by grace. So we extend to each other the same grace and love that the Father gives us every minute.
There’s a lot of forgiveness here. A lot of space for messing up and getting back up again. There’s room for grace to intercede where we fall short as a married couple.
And did I mention we laugh a lot? About everything. We laugh about inappropriate things. We laugh at our kids behind their backs (love ya, boys). We laugh at how stupid I sound when I’m hungry and angry. We laugh about our arguments, our past, and our inside jokes.
I remember what Evan was wearing the night I saw him. I remember the summer night when he told me loved me. I remember the time there were cows in his front yard while we were making out on the couch. (See what I mean? Our entire marriage is based on humor.)
I remember that we’re not perfect people, and our marriage is not perfect either. But he brings out the best in me. He gives me glimpses of what heaven will be like with the way that he loves me. He points me to God.
Happy friendaversary on Facebook, Evan. You’re a stud, and I’m thankful I get to call you mine.