Eighty-three

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My husband and I spent Friday night and all day Saturday at our church’s marriage conference. We spent time on Friday sharing with our small group the story of how we met. It’s a long story. Epic, in our minds, although maybe that’s just because we can drag it out for dramatic effect. Each couple shared their story, and one thing stood out to me: there were plenty of times for it to not work out for each of us.

Age differences, long-distances, other relationships, stupid things said- each couple had obstacles or reasons to assume it was never going to happen. I think it’s safe to assume that would have been the case for each of the 39 couples who attended the conference.

Once you’re married, however, you can start taking it all for granted- the years you were lonely and longed for companionship, the way you felt about each other at first. Or maybe you forget what life was like before your spouse. You forget that your story almost didn’t turn out this way.

We can become so used to our stories that we forget that they’re all epic. 

There are still parts of our story that make me cringe. I was so young when I met my husband, and my youth and naiveté shine in our story. But when God plans something, he makes it work. He uses a seven-and-a-half year age difference for his glory. He moves mountains, changes hearts, heals wounds, brings death to life. He does it all in big and small ways. He does it every day. He rescues. He restores. He redeems. He does it in marriage. He does it in friendships. He does it in every story and every life.

That’s why they’re all epic.

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