Eighteen… on one hand this seems like a very significant number, and I don’t even care to think of the fact that this will be our twin daughters’ age in five short years. But before that time arrives, I am totally thrilled to celebrate a special “eighteen” marked today. You see, on July 16, 1994, a young, intelligent and very thin fellow named T.R. Knight wore a tux, and with a group of equally uncomfortable fellows, took part in a ceremony with four green-clad ladies and one in white, Angie. They said “I do” and started a journey that continues today.
Two years ago, I shared a message of the same theme, “That’s what the promise is for.” This phrase has spelled out more than we likely anticipated. But we did say the words – now, after eighteen years, we’ve shown what the promise is FOR. And what this means. For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.
Eighteen years ago, these were words. Today, they’re life – and I’m so blessed by them! During my thirty day Thankfulness Journey, this is a list of “thanks” that is a joy to write.
Day 14 – Five things I’m thankful for, after 18 years of marriage
1. fuzzy blankets – I’m extra thankful for these when I get to share the said blanket with my sweetie while we snuggle and watch a movie. Even if the movie is on the weak side, it’s fun to be together.
2. dinner conversation – with each other (and now with our daughters), dinnertime is such a fun time to connect, and knowing this is an opportunity that will continue throughout life makes it even richer.
3. being pushed around – this may seem an unlikely blessing, but MS has zapped a bit of my physical prowess, and the once uncoordinated and less-than-speedy but energetic girl T.R. married now uses a wheelchair when going to events that require a lot of walking. He has become quite the pro at maneuvering the contraption, and doing so with a smile.
4. surprisingly large shoulders – though these joints may appear perfectly average to the general passers-by, they are remarkably good for leaning or crying on. I’ve experienced both.
5. the unexpected chef – the man who managed to burn a pot of Campbell’s tomato soup eighteen years ago (with my help, I will certainly admit) is now a very good cook and excellent baker. The dark chocolate layer cake he makes rivals the dessert we had during anniversary celebration last week, and his nieces just told me today how sad they were that Uncle T.R. and his cookies were gone. And they wouldn’t get to make the fantastic no-bake cookies with him like they did last year, as he needed to leave our family trip early.
When my own weaknesses seem to grow, he’s there to add needed strength: to offer support, to lend a hand, and sometimes just to remind me that I’m still a valid part of life. When he first made those promises eighteen years ago, I know neither of us really knew what was in store. But we knew what a promise was – and what it is. And as we learned, that’s what the promise is for.