Father, You know that for the 11,327th time, I cracked the patio door because I love fresh air. Hubby shivered. “Do you really want that door open?” How have we stayed married 48 years? OMG, You’re right. A lot of love flows straight from You to and through us.
Plus, we’ve learned to go with more/less layers.
O Lord, You recall that when we got married, Steve was a freshman medical student. I didn’t have a job. We hadn’t seen each other in five months. Father, You could have had us committed. (Our parents thought about it.)
Instead, OMG, You have walked with us, every step, for 48 years. Thank You that our crazy love grows crazier — and better — every year.
O Lord, You know that when this first pic was taken, I thought people who were 47 years old were ancient. Antediluvian, actually. OMG, how could I have known how rich 47 years of married love — built on Your love — could be?
OMG, thank You that You welcome even grouchy writers with deadlines onto Your lap. And liberally pass out that supernatural love to their longsuffering spouses.
