Remembering love

In my past, when experiencing the sorrow and grief accompanying loss of relationships, I typically spent at least a week in what I call the “eating a gallon of ice cream straight from the bucket” stage. I was in one of those phases when my friend Tony invited me to his birthday party. He’d recently proposed to his girlfriend as well, so his party was a combination birthday/engagement celebration. I couldn’t and didn’t want to miss it.

But I also really just wanted to sit at home, cuddle my cats while wearing pajamas, and feel sorry for myself. Thankfully, by that point in my life, I’d come to believe that pity parties aren’t fun for anyone, even the hostess, so I decided to suck it up and attend Tony’s party in spite of my grumpy disposition.

Sitting next to Tony while sipping a blueberry mojito, I watched my long-lost friend Joey and his wife walk in the door, followed by a tall, gray-haired, handsome man in shorts and flip-flops. The light literally surrounded his silhouette as he approached the bar and stuck his hand out—I kid you not.

“Bethany Klonowski!”

Our first photo together a few weeks after meeting, with the friends who introduced us.

Our first photo together a few weeks after meeting, with the friends who introduced us.

I had to ask Tony for help in identifying this handsome man who apparently already knew me. I was flattered and flabbergasted. I’d really intended on just attending the party, half-heartedly drinking with my friends, and heading home to crawl sadly back into bed with my cats. I had not expected to meet a hunka hunka burnin love.

But I did.

That was three years ago. This morning after making French toast for breakfast, I watched my husband and baby playing together on the front porch, a slow, quiet rain falling down around us.

Life isn’t perfect for us, but thank God for the perfect moments. It’s so easy to take the best things in my life for granted. It’s tempting to seek more—only to find that when I’m on the other side, I wish to climb back over the fence. It’s hard to stoke the fires of romance amidst teething toys, short naps, and abundant exhaustion. It’s tiring to keep trying to connect when the hubbub of the world buzzes in my ear, a distracting din.

In the difficult, strenuous moments of our relationship, I remember the words of Christ in Revelation.

“Yet I hold this against you. You have forsaken your first love. Go back and do the things you once did.”

Our family, three years later

Our family, three years later

Christ may not have been addressing me or referring to my marriage, but these words still impact me as I reflect on the past three years. I will never forget my love, no matter what kind of problems and losses and stressors permeate our lives and fuzzy my focus. I will never stop looking at him the same way I did when he walked into that restaurant, with silent hallelujahs reverberating in my heart. I will never stop thanking God for the best gift He’s ever given me, surprising me with the man of my dreams as I trudged off to celebrate someone else’s joy in the midst of my misery. I will never allow myself to stop caring for and serving him, the same way he cared for me the night we met, rubbing my aching shoulders and piling my plate with hors d’oeuvres.  I will never let go of my husband’s hand , no matter where life leads us.

We’ll be together.

In love.

 

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