On The Twenty-First Year

And what did I know of you, really, but for your nickname in high school, "Body Botz," and how physics class was just about the end of me because you were so near?  So close, and yet so far.

And what did we really know of each other as we took that long drive to Indiana after marriage vows and a loaded UHAUL into the unknown?

And how did God get us this far, really, when all we are is a jumbled mess of sin?

And how does love grow through the trial and the storm?  The fire, the shrapnel, the fallout?  And how does a man love a woman broken until she heals enough to bloom a bit?

Your shade has sheltered me from the blistering heat of the world, and your shoulders have carried the whole weight of this blue/green globe providing for our family.  The way you sacrifice your life is carved deep into your flesh, the entire book of Romans, etched across the back of your shoulders.  Blood and Tears.  Prayers. Love.  The Gospel of Jesus Christ.

An anniversary, and a thank you.

For opening up the Word as we sit around the table, the living room, the lake.
For growing and nurturing us.
For opening our home so often and to so many.
For loving our children well.
For loving all children.
For being a witness.
For being kind.
For loving us.
For your generous heart.
For reading aloud.
For being able to fix anything under the sun.
For the sanctuary of your arms.
For seeing me the way nobody else can.
For commitment.
For laughing at my dumb jokes.
For pursuing a life after the heart of Christ.
For the comfort you give in being a man of God.
For trusting Jesus.
For helping me to work things through.
For holding my hand.
My heart.

Happy Anniversary to my Shoulders and my strength, and to God be the glory.

Yes and Amen,

Bernadette