It was a rainy wintry night, the 29th of January, two years ago today. We sat outside in my car for acouple of hours when we started our life together with a few words.
“You know, lately, I’ve sort of been feeling … well, I like you.”
“Yeah,” I put my head on the steering wheel and smiled sideways at him, “Me too.”
As if we found and opened the wardrobe to Narnia, quickly everything became brand new. It was brand new in the way falling in love always is. It was brand new in a way falling in love usually isn’t. We ran into Narnia with our hearts full of expectation and excitement to discover this perfect new world, only to find it buried in ice.
It was months until the snow melted. Months until we could finally embrace the fullness of our love for one another. The fear and pain and judgment and worry were washed away with the coming of spring, and by the end of the summer, we were running through the lush greenery of our togetherness; our new home. We walked our city’s streets a hundred times, depositing with each mile another dream of what our life would become. By the fall, he bought a ring.
I was waiting patiently, in our second January together, to say “yes.” It wasn’t until March 1st that he gave me the opportunity, and we were married in the fall.
Today, I’m here in our home, sitting at the wooden desk Eric built us, listening to the song I wrote about our time together. We’ve been married for four months, and the night that started it all was two years ago to the date. I could say it feels strange the way the time has passed, but the trip from “I like you” to today has felt like the most natural thing in the world.
And we’re still riding that train from somewhere to somewhere else. It never seems to stop. We can feel a shifting. We are creating more than we ever have, and we are so alive. This train we boarded two years ago is slowly carrying us onward.
Our hearts are shifting and there seems to be new wardrobes waiting to be opened all around us. We will tour the East Coast in April, and our first album on its way. God has been tapping deep wells within us. Old pains, new dreams and big questions are all pouring out of us and into us at an alarming rate. I don’t know where we are going, but I can feel the ground moving underneath me. Suddenly, yet continuously. Hand in hand, we are aware of the promise. The fullness of life all around us and ahead.
The hope, oh the hope. The promise is, and will always be hope.