A Love Letter

(This picture of Dave cracks me up. I love it when he works it for the camera.)

The Wild Rose

Wendell Berry

Sometimes hidden from me
in daily custom and in trust,
so that I live by you unaware
as by the beating of my heart,

Suddenly you flare in my sight,
a wild rose blooming at the edge
of thicket, grace and light
where yesterday was only shade,

and once again I am blessed, choosing
again what I chose before.

I love this man.

Eighteen years ago, I chose to marry David. He is a good man, a kind man, a funny man.

And I love that in eighteen years of marriage, we have grown together, to rely on each other, to laugh with each other, to keep choosing again what we chose before.

I wish I could write all that I've learned through my marriage to this wonderful man. I wish I could do justice to the agonies we've faced, the amazing joys, the small pleasures, the looming worries, the niggling irritations, the thoughtful kindnesses, the unthoughtful unkindnesses, the opposition in all things. I can't. I don't have the words for it.

But I will say that there IS opposition in all things. It's like the journey of life. Stick with it long enough and you'll find that each burden has its contrasting blessing. One of my blessings is this: we keep choosing each other, over and over and over. And that's saying something.