“If you could have seen the future,

would you have married me?”

I can’t count how many times I’ve asked my husband this question.  His response is always the same.  He rolls his eyes, draws me close and says, “Probably not.”  Then I rest on his chest and listen to the familiar rumble of his laughter, as he follows up his sarcasm with, “Of course I would.  I love you.”

On April 13, 2016 we celebrated 25 years of watching the future become our present and drift into our past.  This journey has had some amazing highs and some gut-wrenching lows, but its the everyday gratitude for each other that melds it all into a beautiful love story.

To be sure, I came to this union with a TON of baggage.  I was a single mother who had been in and out of rehab facilities for eating disorders and spent immeasurable hours on therapists’ couches dealing with the after effects of childhood sexual abuse and multiple sexual traumas  as a teenager.  In all honesty, I don’t know why he ever even asked me out, and even more honestly, I didn’t realize he had asked me out.

Rick’s father was the pastor of the church my Dad attended at the time.  They had all heard about “Lee’s Daughter,” the girl with all the problems.  One evening, at an indoor barbecue the pastor’s family was hosting to celebrate the completion of their basement remodeling project, Rick asked me if I wanted to go to a Billy Joel concert with a group of young adults from the church.  I agreed, but only because I knew Rick’s brother was going to be there, and I had a little bit of a crush.  It didn’t even occur to me that it was a date until I went to pay for dinner on the night of the concert, but realized I had accidentally given the bus driver my $10 bill instead of a $1.  Rick was a bit surprised and said, “Oh, I was planning to pay for your dinner anyway.”  OOPS!  This is a date!!!

By the end of that evening, I decided to give this guy a chance even though he wasn’t even close to “my type.”  His mode of  transportation not only had four wheels, it had four doors.  He wore tailored suits instead of leather, and I was pretty sure he didn’t have a single tattoo.  Later, at the end of our first real date with just the two of us, I prepared for him to “make his move.”  I knew what men wanted, and was ready to give it up to this nice guy.  Instead, he leaned over and patted my hand three times.  We still joke about that, patting each other’s hand as we say, “I love you.”

Marrying Rick was the first time in my life I made a choice to do something good for me, even though I didn’t think for one second that I deserved him.  For some crazy reason, this awesome guy loved me, even though he knew about most of my crazy issues including my trichotillomania.  He wanted to wake up to this hot mess every day, so I decided to let him.  Every day since, I have been thankful for his love.  I don’t think I even knew at the time I said, “I do” how much that love could grow.  I really don’t think my mind was capable of comprehending this kind of connection.

Is my husband perfect.  Hell no!  He’d be the first to call you a fool for accusing  him of such a thing.  We both make mistakes on a regular basis.  I hurt him and he hurts me, but we come to our senses, say we’re sorry, and put it behind us.  We committed early on to leaving past hurts in the past.  We don’t drag them out and wave them in front of each other like some emotional matador with a red cape antagonizing the bull.  Sometimes letting go of the pain is harder than a good old-fashioned knock-down-drag-out fight where I get to blow off a boiler room full of steam and he gets to remain all quiet and controlled, making me feel guilty and small.  Even so, forgiveness is the choice we make to nurture our marriage and maintain peace.

We are very different.  I’m an external processor and he is VERY internal.  I couldn’t be more extroverted, while he is the very definition of an introvert. Sometimes I just want to shake him and yell, “Just talk to me!!!!” He’s not perfect, but he is perfect for me.  He listens to my rants.  He holds me through all the tears.  He makes me laugh when all I want to do is scream obscenities at the world.  He opens up his heart and takes on the hurt of my past as if it were his own story of suffering.

There have been times when we almost didn’t make it.  Our marriage has endured hardships that should have torn us apart.  So why are we still going strong?  I wish I could nail it all down into Three Easy Steps for a Happy Marriage, but I can’t.  Its a million little choices made every single day.  Its looking at this man and saying, “I choose to love you today.”  Its remembering the way he looked walking across the parking lot in his khakis, button down shirt, loafers and sunglasses on that first real date, and realizing he’s still that 25 year-old stud to me.  Its inside jokes and secret codes, like patting your hand three times when you are in a place where you can/t say the words out loud.  Its looking at your children and standing in awe of the fact you all survived their childhood and teen years.  It’s the certainty that tomorrow might bring even more heartache, but you won’t go through it alone. Its the little gold flecks in his green eyes that twinkle with mischief as they look at you and say, “Probably not” when you ask if he’d marry you again.

I love you Rick.  Always.