one year later.

One year ago:  I was walking barefoot through a summer camp rec room that had been hurriedly re-vamped for this occasion due to the ominous forecast.  I turned the corner that we had created with folding chairs and met my beau of 4 years at the front of the room.  All of my favorite friends were lined up there with me; I couldn’t stop smiling every time I met Jason’s eyes; one of my all-time favorite pastors was giving a message about something that we had carefully selected beforehand, but in the moment I didn’t hear a word.

We stumbled through our vows, realizing that they were much wordier when being repeated out loud than they looked on paper.  We exchanged rings, Ken cracked a joke and then we kissed.  Looking back at the pictures I seem taken by surprise, which is embarrassing now.

The rest passed in a blur of picture taking, laughter, eating food, talking to friends and tons of hugs.  My mom says that there was a
great deal of stress that went into this wedding, but I don’t remember any of it.  To me, it was the most easy-going fly by the seat of your pants picnic potluck wedding that anybody could ever dream of.  The next thing I knew we were packing gifts into the car and driving away, grinning like idiots and telling each other funny things that had happened.  Jason had his pockets stuffed full of cash that people were slipping to him all night, he said he felt like a drug dealer.

The words that played as I walked down the aisle kept running through my head…

If I could live 100 years before my life is through
If I could live 100 years, I’d spend them loving you.
Cause you’ve got my heart and you’ve got my soul,
Now you’ve got this promise too:
If I could live 100 years, I’d spend them loving you.

One year later:  I sit on the couch trying to figure out how to fit a cat and a laptop on the rapidly decreasing space available on my lap.  Our daughter boots Tux in the side which makes him look around quizzically for what is attacking him.  Across the hall is a nursery that is slowly coming together and a dresser full of tiny outfits for the baby.

The door slams and Jason walks into the room, leaning down to kiss me and asking what’s for supper, which turns into a battle of “I don’t know, what do you want?”  “I don’t know, what do YOU want?”  We end up cooking it together with him in charge of meat and seasoning while I cut veggies and do a side dish.  Our words are full of teasing, but a gentle hand on my stomach or a kiss on the cheek reveals the love that has grown between us this year.

One year of stretching and growing; living with a roommate, changing jobs, facing uncertainties and learning how to forgive each day better than the day before.  A year that has taken us from being in love to being married and now approaching parenthood.  Parts of this year were full of laughter, others were full of emotional tears; there have been months of morning sickness, financial instability and learning to trust and be content.  And all along we go back to the commitment we made in that little camp building in the woods…

I vow to put your needs before my own, to support your strengths and forgive your faults, to be content in every circumstance and to follow God together wherever he leads.

I vow to protect and to cherish you as long as I live, to provide for you and our future family, to grow in grace with you and to lead you both physically and spiritually as we follow Christ together.

Place me as a seal on your heart, wear my ring on your finger.  For love is invincible, facing danger and death.  The fire of love stops at nothing, it sweeps everything before it.  Many waters cannot drown love, rivers cannot wash it away.  It cannot be bought, it cannot be sold.

This love and my life, I give to you.

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