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Thirteen Years Later

In the early years we were lumps of clay, not yet formed into anything recognizable.

In love, yes, with our rose-colored glasses firmly fixed, we ate, drank, and lived young love.  For a couple of months.

For the last thirteen years, we’ve been squeezed, rolled, allowed to set in our ways, and then pressed into helpless mounds all over again.

If a prophet had told us that in the 13 years following our wedding day we would experience trials that would strip away every ounce of surface love (for one another) and superficial faith (in God), our lumpish selves would have denied it.

Through circumstances we would never have chosen for ourselves, the Lord has gifted us with love so much greater than what we pledged in our vows.

We continue to eat and drink love, the blinding glasses removed.

We taste the Lord’s love, sometimes in tears, often in awe.

We’re smothered in the messy love of our children,

We exchange love with our eyes across a noisy dinner table,

we receive it in acts of apologies,

we give it with words of encouragement,

we hold onto it in times of pain and laughter,

we linger in what we know of each other that nobody else knows.

Two misshapen mounds of clay merging into one flesh, all by God’s perfect design.

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