Twelve years ago today, my hubby called me (yes, on the phone) to propose. With many giggles and butterflies, I said yes. I had only known him less than four months, but I suppose as the adage goes: When you know; you know. I remember meeting him and thinking how rude and aloof he was socially. You know that enormous list we have as single women that we think our Mr. Right should fulfill in every aspect? I learned to chuck that out the window and trust in God to do better for me than I could do for myself. I found in my fiance a man who may have been rough around the edges, but he had a very sincere heart. And that, my friends, is what counts.
Eleven weeks later we were married. I would love to say that it has been all rosey and fun, but I cannot. We have been through the trenches of life that have helped us to grow in many ways. Though I may dream of Mr. Darcy romanticism, I am content with a strong, stable man; because I am secure with him. I am thankful for bad decisions, wrong turns, misguided paths, and extreme frustrations because we work through them together.