It was 18 years ago today that I married the love of my life.
I had a praying mom who prayed often for the little boy who would one day be the man that I married.
And Mom would live to meet the man that she had prayed for as a little boy.
She would live to get to know him and his family very well.
She would live long enough to do some daydreaming about her grandchildren.
She would live long enough to walk side-by-side with me as we put the wedding plans into motion.
But she wouldn't be there on the day of our wedding.
I love remembering what the associate pastor, Pastor Joe, told me after our ceremony.
He had just finished reading the Love Chapter from the Bible and stepped outside for a moment.
The sun was shining, and at the time Pastor Dave would have been pronouncing us husband and wife, rain started falling.
For just a brief moment.
While the sun was shining.
Mom's tears of happiness falling down.
I didn't start out this day thinking about my mom, but as I sat looking through pictures, I couldn't help but get caught up in the memories of that day.
And how thankful I am to have been surrounded by people who loved us so much and who were as happy as we were.
Our parents and our grandparents smiled as much as we did, and I'm sure suffered from tired smile muscles just like we did.
"The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; yes, I have a good heritage."
And now this evening, all these years later, Paul and I sat at the local Mexican restaurant and said a prayer of thanks.
Thanks for each other.
Thanks for giving us a family.
Thanks for those who have walked before us.
And prayers that our children would one day echo the Words from Psalm 16:6.
Maybe?
Happy Anniversary, Paul!
I love you.
Always.
Enjoying the simple things,
