choosing this romance

During the second semester of my freshman year at Dordt, I had no break on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 8AM American Lit 'til Chorale dismissed at 2:00 in the afternoon.  After Chorale, I'd make my way to the Commons, scan my ID card, chat with Donna, and head to the back for a sack lunch (they closed the serving line at 1:00.)  I'd unpack my grub on the old loveseat in the dorm room that Rochelle and I shared, East Hall, Room 312.  Same fare every time: a sub sandwich, potato chips, an apple, and a chocolate chip cookie.  And every time I'd put my feet up and flip through the channels as I munched.  

I don't remember any more what I was watching.  A documentary?  A Wedding Story?  What I do remember is the big black man, his fuzzy hair graying at the temples, and the question posed him: could he share the secret to staying happily married for decades, as he and his wife had?  How did they do it?

"How did we do it?" he echoes.  "How did we do it?  Oh, I'll tell 'ya how we did it."

He leans forward, his elbows on the armrest of his chair, his eyes bulging over the top of wide-rimmed glasses.

"In da mornin', we'd a wake up, and we'd a roll ovah, and we'd a look at da person on da othah side of da bed, and we'd a say, 'Dis...dis...dis is gonna be mah romance.'"  

And he leans back in his chair and pushes the specs up his shiny nose with a broad index finger for emphasis.

"Das how we did it."

Three weeks ago today B.J. and I celebrated our 9th wedding anniversary.  His Mom was here that week, so when B.J. got home from school we took 1-month old Eli with us up to Estes in the S10, me riding in the middle.  We ate supper at a cozy little lodge with a Spanish guitarist and a view of the sun setting over the mountains newly dusted with snow.  

We asked Mom to snap a picture of the two of us before we left.

Hold the phone - student on the line (big science project due tomorrow.  :-)

The yellow aspens and snowy peaks reminded us of our honeymoon in Alaska.  The kids were just in bed when we got home, so we sat up and watched our honeymoon video with Mom.  I laughed at the silly, flirtatious selves we were back then until I had tears running down my face.

These nine years have flown.  I definitely feel older than I did then.  There are dark circles under my eyes and bags and lines in places where they didn't used to be.  The responsibility of five children has both of us acting less flighty as well.

But, by the grace of God, we both are more aware of how abundantly blessed we are.

More aware that having a healthy marriage requires saying "no" to your own selfish interests and "yes" to investing in your relationship with your spouse.

More aware that marriages - even those marriages closest to us - are under attack in the pornographic, self-absorbed, godless society in which we live.

More aware than ever that love is a choice, and that romance doesn't just happen.

Happy 9 years and 3 weeks, B.J.

Here's to waking up tomorrow morning, and the next morning, and the morning after that...and choosing this romance.

I love you.