January 18th

January 18th, 2003 was an ice cold day.  With windchill, it was below zero, though I'm not sure how far below....I wasn't paying much attention to the weather.  I just know that when I stepped out my front door, the frozen solid stillness was freakish - almost alien.  On January 18th, 2003, I was 18 years old.  And I was getting married.

I remember my sister doing my hair.  I remember slipping into that sparkling white dress that reminded me of the tutus I'd worn before.  I remember tying my light blue Chuck Taylor high tops on, a fierce reminder that I still existed somewhere underneath all of the pretense of adulthood that was wrapped around me.

I remember making my way awkwardly down the staircase, one hand on the railing, the other clutching my hoop skirt.  I remember my older brother telling me I looked beautiful.  I remember wanting to cry.

Most of all, I remember him.  At the end of that long isle.  Baby faced, though a few years older than me.  Smiling.  Trying to look reassuring.  Failing a bit.

Neither of us knew what we were getting into.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When we hear the word "faithful," we usually think of someone who is strictly monogamous in his relationships.  In reality, that is just the tip of the iceberg.

To be faithful means to be devoted to a person, a cause or an idea.  It means to be firmly planted and secure; it means to be trustworthy.

I have a faithful man.

Not only is he devoted to me, firm in his marital vows and bonded to my needs and wants as his wife, but he is faithful to our family.  Day after day, year after year he carves out this faithful life - a life lived in complete acknowledgment of what God expects of him.  A life of deep contentment.

His family is his life.  When some men feel the need to go out with friends after work or on long weekends, J prefers to find his joy and his happiness here, with us.

I wake in the morning and he's been at work for hours.  When he is home, he is completely present.  He cherishes his kids and takes delight in his time spent with them.  He brings me little tokens of his love on a nearly daily basis - a coke from work, flowers from the grocery, a candy bar.

He respects me and supports me.  When I question a norm, he listens and gives his honest opinion.  He never puts me down, never ridicules me, never brushes off my concerns.

There are days I wonder if I ask too much, if I am too much for him.  The days I'm more frustrated than fun, or the asking, just maybe, what would you think if we were to, you know...have one more?  But to all my crazyness, the rational and irrational, he responds in his way - Positive.  Joyful.  Hopeful.  Assured.  Laid back.

He teaches me that there are no real emergencies.  Life is to be taken one step at a time, with full knowledge that it isn't us that make wise plans and decisions.  We are merely living the life blindly, and trusting that there is One out there that holds this little family's purpose in His Almighty hands.  J teaches me to let go and enjoy the ride.  He reminds me those 2 kids saying "I do" all those years ago and continuing to make it work, that 8 years together is a miracle in its own...a miracle we've been given that we live each day.

8 years.  (Almost) 5 kids.  He stands beside me as we look into our future together, and I can't help but feel so at peace with it all.  Our path is a road less traveled, but I can safely trust in him.  And I do.  For all the days of my life.