It was my first real date ever. It felt really important. I also didn't know how to talk to you, and I was hoping that you didn't mind too much. It was easy to talk to you when you were the guy with all the big ideas and adventures with the Lord, but I found myself at a loss for words now that I could finally tell you I liked you, not just your big ideas.
We stayed at the restaurant until it closed, and then we got coffee at a local all-night diner. The waitresses got to know us there. We were the strange couple that would come and order a cup of coffee just so that we could be together. There was so much that I wanted to say to you that night. I think that most of it has leaked out little by little over the last year, but I feel like there are still more unspoken places in my heart that haven't found words of the right size and shape to escape through.
You were so gentle and patient with me that night. I often feel like you understand me better than I understand myself. As I left the diner I rehearsed the events of the evening again and again, wanting to memorize each moment. I didn't sleep very much that night, and woke up the next morning still smiling.
Today I am your wife. I love you so much. The snow is falling on the ground outside, obscuring the real shapes of the trees and grass and stones. It softens every edge and fills up the crevices. Love is like that sometimes. It blurs and softens the sharp parts of life, covering it all in a layer of forgiveness and peace. There will be times when we must face the hard edges, though, and submit ourselves to be molded and refined by them. Love does that too. Love says "I am with you," for all the pain and beauty and every step along the way.
The last year has been my favorite one. I'm glad to be with you as our adventure continues.
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