Getting Hitched

When we were this young, I thought we had our lives ahead of us.  I thought we had so much to look forward to, so many things to accomplish, to see, to do, to be, to live through.  I thought we would make a great life for a family.  When we were this young, I thought you’d be the prince that rescued me from all the darkness in my life.  I thought we’d run away together, crossing the Fire Swamp and battling Rodents of Unusual Size, and that we’d end up holding hands in our happily ever after like Westley and Buttercup in The Princess Bride.  When we were this young, I couldn’t see past tomorrow, and I had no understanding of happily ever after or forever, other than what I’d seen in movies.  When we were this young, I thought I had it all together, and I was in complete control of my world.  I believed in the fairy tale and the prince and princess and I wanted that life more than anything in the world.  When we were this young, I wanted to follow you wherever you went.  I wanted to get away from our small town and all the petty stuff that happens here.  I wanted to run away with you into the great unknown and live a life of mysterious bliss.  When we were this young, I had so many hopes and dreams, so many ideas and expectations of how our life together would be.  I couldn’t wait to mother your children, to tend your home, to greet you, 50’s style, in an apron with my hair perfectly styled and lipstick on.  I couldn’t wait to show the world how awesome a life we live.  When we were this young, we had lots of late nights with our friends together around a pool table; and I had lots of late nights with my friends when you were gone.  When we were this age, we had so much ahead of us.

Then, this happened:

We grew through our first two deployments together.  We struggled within our marriage, with the outside world.  We survived great losses.  We learned to balance time away with time together.  We moved a handful of times, to different cities, for different reasons.  I quit a job without having another one ready, and we had our first big fight.  I cried a lot.  You stood silently by, being strong, waiting for the storm to pass.  When we were this young, the realization that we were not in control set in, and we had to figure out how to “roll with it”.  We learned to hold on to the good and let go of the not-so-good.  When we were this young, I started walking with Jesus again, because He was the only one who would be with me when you weren’t.  It hurt you that my life had changed so much, and I had become a different person.  But you didn’t quit.  You continued to stand strong.  Not budging an inch.  Not giving up your ground.  When we were this young, you decided to join me, at least once a month, in worship, in communion, in my journey.  We moved to another state, we started over, we made a new home, we made new friends.   We had to learn to live together like “normal” people.  I had to learn to let you watch your shows on TV, and you had to learn to let me watch mine.  We learned a lot about compromise.  We learned a lot about being married.  When we were this age, we experienced terrorism on our soil on 9-11-01.  I learned that your patriotism and dedication to your country, and fellow man were strong.  I learned that my husband was older than his years when we were this age.  You sacrificed more than I can ever understand when we were this age.  But we had lots of fun too.  We had bar-b-ques with neighbors in Lovell Court, we went camping with friends, and I slept in an inch of water and we “roughed it”.  We took our boat out on the Patuxent River, the Chesapeake Bay, and Lake Christopher.  It was such a thrill to be out on the water with you.  I loved every minute of it.  When we were this age, we still had our whole lives ahead of us.  We still had dreams to be realized, plans to see through, and a family to raise.  I spent so many hours in the doctor’s offices, trying to figure out how to get our family started.  I prayed so many prayers, waiting for God to make our babies.  I begged, pleaded, cried, and pouted about the things I couldn’t control, and the children I could not seem to birth.  When we were this age, we had grown quite a bit, but still, we had so much more life to live.  So much more to see, and do, and dream, and be.

And then we were this age:

When we were this age, we went south in a caravan, and we loved our friends so much that we followed them.  You were gone again, and I had to learn to live without you all over.  When we were this age, we gave up the dream of being birth parents, and worked together to adopt.  How many late nights of classes did we have?  Three months or more?  We took in a boy, whom we tried to parent, and realized that we could not do justice to his needs.  We surrendered our dream and decided to life happily with no children.  When we were this age, we visited our families more.  We learned that we have some things in common.  We took our time doing whatever we wanted.  We went to Denny’s and Woody’s and LaNapolera a lot.  We spent weekends with our friends, whom we loved so much!  When we were this age, you traveled a lot.  You looked like this:

And I looked like this:

And we had new adventures and old adventures.  We gave up the boat for a four wheeler, and we moved from the city into the country.  We had Max, Vinnie and Harley, our Four Legged Fur Babies.  When we were this age, I felt like we had it all together.  Like we really had arrived into adulthood.  I thought we were finally at a good place in our lives, where we had complete control.  We knew there was a lot to be thankful for, and much to take care of, but I thought we had finally figured out how to work together to get everything done.  When we were this age, we had more deployments, but we were old hands at that, so it wasn’t a big deal.  I had a great job, which I loved very much, and was able to throw myself into when you were gone.  I finally felt like I amounted to something, even though I wasn’t a mother and didn’t have a career.  When we were this age, I looked good.  I had nice things.  Expensive hand bags, weekly manicures, pedicures, and monthly trips to the stylist for my hair.  I had wise women in my life, who had great advice and style tips.  You had your guy friends, with whom you spent many hours in the woods, avoiding rattlers, bears and wild hogs, while chasing whitetails.  We had a great life when we were that young.  We really worked well together, and I thought that life couldn’t be any better, despite my ache to be a mom, and your desire to be a dad, both of which were unmet.  We struggled through home studies together, more hours at another fertility clinic, all to be met with silence.  No hope for us to ever be parents.  So we continued again, making life fun for just the two of us.  When we were this age, we fit very well together; probably because we had some great friends who loved us as if we were blood.  We enjoyed so many nights in garages and lawn chairs, having conversations, telling stories, sharing dreams.  When we were this age, I no longer dreamed of the prince who would come and rescue me and take me into the great blue yonder.  I didn’t need the fairy tale.  I had settled into a wonderfully comfortable life, with a sexy, strong man.  I still had dreams and expectations, and I still wanted something.  But I was happy when I was this age.

And then this happened:

And here we were, brand new parents to a perfect little girl.  When we were this age, we thought we knew what life was all about.  We had everything we ever wanted.  We had our miracle baby girl, we had each other, we had amazing friends.  When we were this age, I thought that it was the beginning of the end.  All our goals were achieved in this one event.  We were a real family.  We were finally going to be able to do and see and have and be all the things we ever wanted, because our dreams had finally come true.  When we were this age, we were young, and had our whole lives ahead of us.  We had each other to turn to when we needed something.  I thought we had it all figured out.  I thought the classes we took had answered all the questions I had, and that I would be a great mom and wife.  When we were this young, and you held your daughter, I looked into your sleep deprived eyes, and saw every moment we had spent together.  When we were this age, I remember thinking that now we had to make all of her dreams come true.  We had to give her the very best of both of us, so that she would grow up to know that life isn’t about fairy tales and princes.  When we were this young, I wondered what my parents would think of the woman I’d become, and how your parents would feel now that you were a father.  I thought about her life, and ours.  Her education and ours.  I thought that moving back home to the farm would make life so much better for all of us.  When we were this young, I thought I’d made a plan, and that life would work perfectly according to that plan.

And then this happened:

When we were this age, the dream came back around, of being the stay at home, take care of my children and husband woman.  I thought that I had the parenting thing down, because hey, I’d gotten the first one through two years.  I thought we were doing great.  We had a rental home, and were living from paycheck to paycheck.  Considering the fact that we’d moved back home and left the comfort of the military and our friends, starting over and living on one third of the income we’d had, I didn’t think we were that bad off.  When we were this age, I felt again as though I had completed my life’s ambitions, and there was nothing left that I needed or wanted.  When we were this age, you took on a new venture with a new job.  We lost my last living grandparent.  When we were this age, you left me at home with a two day old baby, two year old, and your mother, so you could go hunting.  I let you go, because I love you and I knew you needed to be in the woods.  When we were this age, we both recognized that we each have the need for “alone time”, and that we each have the desire to see the other succeed.  I believed that I could do it all…work, be a mom to two, be a great wife, volunteer, and write.  When we were this age, I had a lot more energy, and I didn’t worry about anything.  I still had my whole life ahead of me when I was this age.  When we were this age, I looked at you, soundly sleeping on your side of the bed, and thought about all the days that disappeared from the beginning of us, until then.  When we were this age, I didn’t have to compete with anything for your time, I didn’t wonder what it was going to be like when you came home from deployment.  I didn’t think about anything but the moment when I was this age.  And those sweet little babies that look just like us.  We had birthed them, our miracles.  We got blessed in big ways.  When we were this age, I realized that these small people, these big miracles, were not our destiny, and they certainly did not create perfect people or amazing parents in us.  When we were this age, I felt like the weight of the world was being loaded onto my shoulders, and I didn’t know how to take it off.  I wanted to be perfect, I had greater expectations, and less time.  When we were this age, I figured I was doing very well, as I’d outlived my own life goals and dreams.  My prince had come, we had rode off into the sunset (and back), and had our beautiful, perfect family.  When we were this age, I thought all my dreaming was done.

And then this happened:

Now we are this age.  Now, I don’t wonder what life is going to be like.  Now, I don’t think about kingdoms or princes or being rescued.  Now, I don’t dream big dreams about tomorrows that may not come.  Now, I don’t worry about whether or not we’re going to have to move and start all over.  Now, I don’t pretend that we have it all “together” or “under control”.  Now, I don’t want to run away to anywhere from anything.  Now that we are this age, I don’t need to dream big dreams about fancy, frilly love stories.  I don’t want to think about those made up kinds of things.  Now that we are this age, I want to be right here, in this moment with you.  I want to keep waking up to your kisses, and falling asleep with your arm around me.  At this age, I want to keep learning new things with you by my side, as we face the not-so-great times together, and the “wow-that-was-awesome” times even more closely together.  Now, I don’t need to buy the latest handbag or have my nails done every week.  At this age, I don’t need a lot of material, worldly things.  I need time.  I need more time with you, to see you, to listen to you, to be beside you.  I need more time with our kids.  I need to memorize their faces so that I can see them in my mind, know every dimple in my soul.  I need lots of naps with you.  Because that’s where we get to be together – alone – and semi-conscious.  At this age, it doesn’t hurt to restore my energy supply either.  Now, I need you more than ever, to just be who you are.  Because this who you are, the strong one, who stands right beside me, and waits for the storm to pass… that’s the guy that made my life more than a dream.  This who you are is who I love, more than I ever thought possible.  Now, at this age, I see that my whole life isn’t ahead of me.  It’s right here, in this moment, with you.  That’s my whole life.  Without you, without all of who you are, and all that you aren’t, I would never have had these past 20 years of memories, which I cherish greatly.  Without you beside me, standing strong, not quitting, giving up, or surrendering, I would not have had this life.  At this age, I see that the fairy tale isn’t something I ever read about in a book or saw in a movie.  The fairy tale doesn’t exist; but my life does.  The past twenty years exists, and is as perfect and as real as ever there was a life.  We didn’t have smooth seas every day, it wasn’t always easy.  There were times the storm nearly overtook our ship, and we could have crashed against the shore or drown.  There were days the sun shown down on us and the breeze filled our sails so that we could reach greater distances, travel to new places, explore distant horizons.  And while we’re right back where we started from, it’s not the same for me.  Because I’ve had the past twenty years with you.

Thank you for giving me the life I always dreamed of and being the husband beyond my dreams.

The last dance…