For years I watched my mother actually counting the days on the calendar of how long she had been married to my father. I remember at one point I saw on the calendar, she had written 10,983 days. I looked at that and thought it was incredibly sweet and it showed the depth of her feelings for him. Even after 10,950 she was still so in love with him that she was celebrating the days. I wondered if I would ever be blessed enough to find a love like that.
Today, I was feeling rather ill and laid down in my husband's arms. I felt comforted and adored. I thought back through our years of marriage, nearly 12 now, 4,333 days. I remembered when we were dating and I felt so in love. I knew deep in my heart this was the man I would marry and the thought was both exciting and frightening. I remember, on our honeymoon when my father had fallen ill and we had to head home, he took me in his arms and promised to be there for me. I remember when laughing with him, playing with him, and even fighting with him and I remember making up with him ever so much more. I remeber when my father died, and I saw him pull into the drive, I ran out to meet him and fall into his arms.
You see, in his arms, I am loved. In his arms, I am comforted, cared for and adored. In his arms, I am safe. He is the completion of me. God made him to complete me. Where I end, he begins and where he ends, I begin. He has his faults, as do I, but I choose to look past them and straight into his heart. In his heart, I find love; love of God and love of me, and love of our children. There is nowhere in this world I would rather be than in his arms. I pray that I am the kind of wife he wants and deserves, and that I spend the rest of my life counting the days and celebrating the days of our love.
The Garth Brooks Dilemma.
2 years ago