Twenty-nine Years of Surprises

Tomorrow, August 27, Murray and I will be married for 29 years.

When I first started writing this piece, I titled it “Two lonely people.” I wondered if one of the largest things that attracted Murray and I to each other was that—here we were, two lonely people who each found someone who liked us—and we grabbed on. Surely, there’s some truth in that, but it’s such a tiny part of the story.

We knew each other only about six months, dated for not quite two, and were engaged for less than two weeks. So my first surprise was … I was married.

That was definitely a crazy time. God worked all things out for good, though, and he still is.

Surprises. God gave us five kids. I had always dreamed of a family, but what we have is far greater than anything I could have imagined. Murray trusted me to stay home alone and care for the kids for nine years—the joy of my life.

A master’s degree? That sure isn’t something I would have attempted under just my own power. But with Murray’s encouragement and confidence in me, I succeeded.

And going back to work after my nine years at home? I praise God that Murray was there to hold me up during those years.

I’ve never been one who’s found it easy to move my feet. I’ve always been ready to settle down, plant roots, and never move again. Surprise? We’ve lived in six states, eight cities, and ten houses.

The other day, I was remembering some of the interesting people we’ve met over all those miles. Sweet; funny; eye-opening people—all different kinds of folks in different parts of the country.

What precious memories.

Through sorrows, struggles, disappointments and sickness, we’ve changed and grown closer. The laughter and fun and excitement has taught us to know each other better and like each other more.

The biggest surprise of all? After 29 years, through all my messiness, Murray still tells me almost every day,  “I am happy to have you as a wife.”

What’s next?

James 1:17: Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.