31 years ago today I married my man!
At a little baptist church (that isn’t so little anymore) in Haysville, Kansas.
(When we got married there was only the little building on the right and no passageway leading to a big building.)
(But that’s irrelevant.)
What’s relevant is that I’M STILL MARRIED TO THE SAME GUY!
Besides being a parent, marriage is the hardest work I’ve ever done. And that’s not because of who I’m married to. It’s because of ME. Marriage has a way of stretching you. It really is a miracle this guy stayed with me all these years!
We’ve been through so much together. So. Much.
How do we keep our marriage alive?
With real romance.
Real romance is cleaning up the other one’s vomit during a stomach flu epidemic. (Sorry for that shocking visual, but it’s true.)
Real romance is doing dishes together–in the middle of the night–after the baby’s finally asleep.
Real romance is eating eggs for supper on Monday night. And Tuesday. And Wednesday. And Thursday. And Friday. And Saturday. And Sunday–in order to pay the electric bill.
Real romance is listening to the other one talk when you’d rather watch TV or read a book.
Real romance is wrapping presents and stuffing stockings together at 4:00 AM on Christmas Eve.
Real romance is letting the other pick out the color of the new car.
Real romance is picking up their socks–and not complaining.
Real romance overlooks those extra pounds every ten years packs on.
Real romance is giving each other the space they need to pursue their own interests.
Real romance is loving each and every gift you get from the other one when it’s nothing at all you like.
Real romance is forgiving all hurts, wrongs, neglect. And letting it go.
Real romance is giving up the right to be right.
Real romance fights fair and never damages another with words.
Real romance doesn’t look very much like those romance novels some people are known to write. <grin>
It’s not the candlelight dinners or gifts I cherish most. It’s the time my man sacrifices to be with me, do for me, listen to me. Even when I’m not lovely. Usually, when I’m the most difficult is when I need him to love me the most. And he needs the same from me.
So that’s my definition of real romance.