Lingerie and Jet Fuel

Rob and I just celebrated our sixth wedding anniversary. Our celebration was very low key. We dined on fine hot dogs and exchanged gifts. Part of the lack anything more spectacular was that we don't know a babysitter yet and part was that Rob had to work that day. Part of the difference between that and previous celebrations was a not-so-subtle shift in what we find romantic.

Last week I unpacked a box labeled simply "pajamas." In in I found my wedding lingerie. I sat there holding this stuff in my lap and simply staring at it. Honestly, I had forgotten that I had it. I feel special if he doesn't go to bed smelling like jet fuel. I don't remember that being on my 'list of desirable qualities in a mate' list that I had. To romance me he must first bathe...yeah, not sure that ever crossed my mind as a form of romance. I'm also pretty sure that if he had offered to let me go the store alone to shop for paint six years ago I would have been annoyed that he wanted to get out of running errands with me. This time, it was one of the highlights of my month. Two hours completely alone? To shop for paint? Honey, THANK YOU!

Regardless, that night I put on the lingerie, feeling slightly idiotic (and amazed that it still fit), like he didn't know every inch of my body underneath it and love me despite my flaws. His comment, "I remember that stuff!" wasn't exactly what I was going for. We both got a good case of the giggles. It's what I imagine the great romances were made of.

We've hit that point in our marriage where we find intimacy in the knowledge that we have our whole lives to discover each other, that we belong completely to each other, that we are building something worthwhile together. Seeing him playing with his son is far sexier than him mowing the lawn shirtless ever could be. The emotions have burned off the relationship and what's left is solid, deep, it's commitment, it's our choice to stay together, it's grounded in God and the family that we have made together, it has been tested by distance, by loss, by tragedy. It isn't a piece of silk over exposed legs...it's better than that. It's knowing that whatever I need him for, he's there, that he is mine and mine alone. It's why I'll follow him wherever he goes even when it takes me from my loved ones. It's a bond that only grows deeper with every passing day. It's being willing to put in the work to have one love for one lifetime.

It's simple, it's perfect, it's happiness...

I didn't "fall in love," I chose to love him. I make that choice every single day. I'll make that choice over and over again until death do us part.

Happy Anniversary my love...