I suppose that tradition/ bloggity etiquette/ political correctness dictate that I cite November 21, 1992 as the happiest day of my life and then revel in the romance and details of that day. The deal is, there are so many flash-bulbs of happiness since that day that, while my wedding day was beautiful, fun, and all I had hoped it would be, I won't claim it as the happiest day of my life.
A confession that will sound as if I am veering down another road entirely: I would love to tell you that the moment I laid eyes on either of my children I was so overwhelmed with gushy love for them that it leaked out of my every pore -- but that is simply not true. I loved them fiercely from conception, even to the point that I believed their alien-esque features on the ultrasound to be the most beautiful alien I had ever seen. But at the moment of their birth they were simply another human that I had never met before -- a human I would have knocked your block off if you had tried to injure or take, but a stranger to me nonetheless.
In trying to delicately say this to a young mother-to-be, I told someone that, for me, being the mother of a newborn was, in some ways like being a newlywed: "Remember the day you got married and how much you loved your husband and you thought you couldn't love him anymore, but as time goes by you just love him more and more? That's how motherhood has been for me." (and I still stand by that statement -- both from the marriage and motherhood perspectives) This got tremendous guffaws from the women around me (Troy, I'll have to tell you who they were -- you'll understand! :-), "Well, sure, maybe if you're married to Troy Stirman that's how you feel ... "
Well, I am, in fact, married to Troy Stirman and it IS how I feel. There have been so many moments in my life that I have prayed that the Lord would let me always remember that PRECISE moment of happiness -- and of course I can't remember a single one right now. My life has been so blessed on so many counts and I frequently look around and can't believe this life I'm living. It's a lot less fashionable and far more budget-conscious than I may have dreamed, and covered with far more dog hair and bits of grated cheese (do they throw it into the air? do they plant it on the dog's back so that she will shake it off? do they build tiny cities with it?) but it is far more full and wonderful than I could have dreamed.
Today we have been married 14 years. We have been to tiny Thanksgiving feasts with pilgrims in construction-paper hats on our anniversary. We have sat through basketball practices on our anniversary. We have almost forgotten our anniversary when it is on a full Sunday (we pass each other in the halls at church shouting, "Oh! I almost forgot! Happy Anniversary!) It's great to have a day to remember, a day to celebrate another year, a day to have an excuse to be mushy and, in the words of Marion Cunningham, be "frisky" in front of the kids. (that makes me laugh -- thinking of me as Marion Cunningham) But there are so many other days in this marriage that I am thankful for -- all 5,110 of them!
I would do every minute of it over again -- the good, the bad, and the horribly ugly -- with Troy Stirman by my side. I am blessed.
