Seventeen years ago I wore white and carried a bouquet of spring flowers and my mother’s Bible.
Seventeen years ago I walked down the aisle on my daddy’s arm…and back up the aisle on my husband’s arm.
Seventeen years ago we were young (mere children, I tell you) and in love. (Still are!)
Seventeen years ago we knelt together and acknowledged “To God Be The Glory.”
Seventeen years ago we had no idea what kind of journey awaited us, or where this curving road of married life would lead.
Seventeen years ago we made a promise to love, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. To love, not because of, or only when, or as long as, but to love in spite of. No matter what.
And here, now, four children, a couple of job changes, and seven different addresses later–after seventeen years of life and all its ups and downs together–my husband tells me it’s been the best seventeen years of his life.
And so it has for me too. It’s been good. Wonderful. Not always easy, but way better than the girlish hopes and dreams of seventeen years ago. I never would have dreamed I could love him more than I did then, but I do.
If I had it to do all over again, I would. I would promise again to love him, stand by him, and follow him….
I do. I will. Til death do us part.
To God be the glory.