My best friend stands with his arm held out, curved in the way that you’d expect an escort to stand, anticipating the entry of mine. He’s dressed in his best grey slacks, a beautiful teal sweater, and an embroidered tie that is whiter than my ivory dress. His hair is spiked up, and he looks as handsome as I’ve ever seen him before.
Are you ready? He asks.
Yes, I say. Absolutely, 100% yes.
Holding back my tears, I take a deep breath and interlock my arm through his, forming a circle that will be broken in just a short time. We pray silently together as we walk towards the small chapel down the hall.
It’s only fitting that he be the one to walk me down the aisle and hand me to the groom who stands at the front, waiting patiently, with tears in his eyes. This friend is, in large part, the reason we’re here. He taught me to dream. He taught me to believe. And he told my groom that there was no woman more worth fighting for than me.
This is no ordinary wedding.
This is a wedding that represents second chances. This wedding represents resurrection in the most real and tangible way. This friend standing beside me is how I most clearly heard God’s voice when my world felt like it was falling apart.
It’s okay to admit it is over. It’s okay to let go, and move forward. God wants you to be happy. And fulfilled. And loved.
And the man waiting for me at the end of the aisle—he has given me more love than I ever imagined. He accepted me in all my brokenness. He took my pain and made it his. He showed me God in a way I’ve never seen before. He showed me Love.
He showed me what it meant to be patient. And kind. He does not envy or boast—not even when he should. He is not rude or self-seeking, and it takes a whole hell of a lot to ever really make him angry. He keeps no record of my wrongs. He always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always…ALWAYS…perseveres.
He proposed over Oreos and milk. Our love has always been about the ordinary. About how sacred moments shine through in the midst of the mundane. Our love isn’t founded on exotic vacations or fancy adventures, but instead is founded on believing in each other, fighting for each other, living simply together.
Doing the dishes has always been a way he showed his love. It used to be that we would do the dishes together. And then once we had kids, it became his way of helping out. I was the only one that could nurse the baby, but he could wash the dishes. And now here we are, 11 years later, and he still does the dishes every single day. He does the dishes with the same amount of love that he had on that very first day.
And maybe even more.
Happy Anniversary to the one I love. You will forever be my better half.
This post is written in response to prompts from 40 Days of Writing the Everyday with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs.
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