Sometimes

Sometimes, we have to sit in the mess of our love for one another.

See its cracks and imperfections.

Acknowledge the hard and heavy places.

Hold space for all that has come before and all that lies ahead.

Sometimes, we have to linger in the madness.

Of 18 years and all its unexpected glory.

Of sleepless nights and spit-up.

Of hospital beds and tear-stained pillows.

Sometimes, we have to breathe in every broken piece.

What pain has touched.

What life has splintered.

What storms have torn and tossed.

Yes, sometimes, we have to sit in the unbridled truth of our story.

Not the fantasy or the fairy tale or Hallmark’s kind of perfection.

But the God’s honest truth.

So that when we reach out, take each other’s hand and look over the landscape of our 18-year love, we can whisper a holy, “Thank you.”

Not for what we have been spared but for what He has carried us through…

Together.