Marriage at 88 days still blows my mind. We’ve had our firsts—first nights of love, first mornings of breakfast in bed, first “hold me as I cry,” first grocery trips as a couple, first week a part, first couch purchase, and first visits home.
Then there are the steady repeats—the events which seem old hat at nearly three months. I now know that he can’t stand it when I critique my appearance after he offers a compliment and he understands that sometimes the whirlwind of conversation pouring from me means I need him to listen and not act. I know him inside and out yet each day surprises me with new lessons on how unique, how gentle, how treasurable this man is.
I suppose the biggest surprises are the repeats which always feel like firsts. It doesn’t matter how many times your beloved holds you while you cry about your lostness, your fears, and your struggles with the world. It never gets old. Each time you worry; “Will he still accept me as I am?” “Will I still be loved?”
But the same old hug enfolds you; the memorable arms still reach around you and words like, “It will be okay,” or, “God will show you” reassure. And it feels like the world is new and the night isn’t as lonely as you thought and the repeats become firsts all over again.
And it really is a picture of the old, old story—of Jesus and His love.