It was one of the hardest years of marriage I can remember.
The best. And the hardest.
Between all the adventures and fun, it was also one of the most stressful, and straining. One of the most testing, and trying.
Not because of anything between us, but because of everything that swirled around us… and came right at us.
Sometimes at the exact same time.
The funny thing is the last year was also filled with unimaginable blessings. Praise God for those. Those blessings also brought unexpected responsibilities and unanticipated life changes too.
But, true to form, you were the rock you’ve always been. The safe, solid resting place you’ll always be. The one person who can take everything I think is wrong in my world and, with one look, one smile, and one hug, make all of it right.
I understand now, maybe for the first time, why the Bible says that a wife of noble character is more valuable than rubies. Because with every passing year, even though we have more Earthly treasures than we did in the year before, I’d be happier to give it all away, if it meant that I’d get to keep you for another year more.
That’s the beautiful thing about starting our marriage with nothing. No matter what changes, as long as we have each other, we have everything.
I read this week that the symbols for our eighth wedding anniversary are pottery and bronze. I couldn’t help but think how fitting they both are.
It represents eight years of building something from scratch. With our bare hands. Together. Molding each other along the way. Learning as we go. Shaping and stretching, but never breaking. Holding hands through the fire, never letting go and loving what we made. Not because it’s perfect, but because it’s ours.
Just like in real life, in its first years, it’s shiny, fresh and new. Around its eighth year, though, after it’s been exposed to the tough weather and rough elements of life, it begins to patina on the surface. The beautiful blue-green layer that emerges surprises you at first, because you never could’ve imagined that something could get more durable and more beautiful with time. But that’s exactly what’s happening to us. The few rogue sprouting grays in my hair aside.
Happy eighth anniversary, my love. May the Potter’s hands never stop shaping us into the love He wants us to be. For Him, first. For each other, second. For everyone else, third.
If we do, our patina won’t just color our life. It will impact the world.
Read more of our anniversary letters here:
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