On becoming us…

Ten years ago, we crossed paths via similar missions and a shared culture. I thought you were a short-termer, getting the adventuring out of your system. You thought I was the weird missionary type, raising a child as my own.

Nine years, seven months ago, we had a conversation I’ve coined “the business meeting”. From separate couches, we discussed fears, futures, and made a decision to choose each other from that point forward. There were no romantic feelings between us, and the energy in the room was electrically awkward. But we’d start a relationship and see what God did.

Nine years, six and half months ago, we went on our first date. We rode in silence to the restaurant after trying to play it cool in front of the babysitter. You told me that night you would marry me. In response, I sat in the bathroom by myself for 20 minutes.

Nine years, six weeks ago, we were on a long drive from Johannesburg to Nelspruit. You were pulling in to a petrol station and said, “Why don’t you pull out the calendar and pick a wedding date.” I texted my sister to see how soon she could come, and we set a date for six weeks later. We snapped a sunset selfie at the station, and we were engaged.

Nine years and one night ago, I didn’t sleep a single wink. I was so excited to become your wife.

Nine years ago today, you wept when you saw me in white. You wiped fast tears while I beamed back. You said, “Why don’t you ever cry?” You spent the next several years learning otherwise.

The story of how we became us is far less unpredictable, thrilling and miraculous than the story of us for these last nine years. We’ve plundered love for God and each other that I never knew existed, especially in our hardest times. We’ve lived a life we never could have imagined and are still becoming who we are together. I love the family we’ve created. The way you love me and our boys takes my breath away.

There is no one I respect and love more. Always and forever.
Happy anniversary babe.