Two years ago today I woke up as a single woman for the last time. On May 20th, 2013 our dearest friends and family gathered together in an old stone church in Denver. I put on a white dress, he put on a tux. With butterflies in my stomach and my dad’s arm linked in mine, I walked down the aisle towards Tanner Oharah. I took his hands in mine. We put rings on each other’s fingers. We said “I do,” and vowed to put each other first, to care for one another, to cherish, respect, and love each other forever. Two years ago on that rainy May evening we danced in the light and laughed and stuffed cake in each other’s mouths. Two years ago we ran through bubbles and applause to our adventure mobile and we drove away from the lives we had lived as two separate individuals. We had been proclaimed as husband and wife. The two had become one.
The next morning we woke up in a haze of joy. We got dressed. Tanner told me I should probably keep my toothbrush and toothpaste cleaner. We zipped the princess dress and tux away in a dress bag and put on shorts and t-shirts. And we went grocery shopping. The daily life as husband and wife had begun. The daily life that would make up our marriage.
Seven hundred and thirty. Those are the number of days that make up two years. That is the number of days I have been married. Seven hundred and thirty days of waking up as a married woman with a ring on her finger and a different name attached to my identity. Seven hundred and thirty days of learning how to love the man God gave me. And though I’m still labeled a newly-wed by many, I see seven hundred and thirty as a significant number of days to commit yourself to a single purpose.
Amongst these seven hundred and thirty days, these two years of daily life as a married couple, we have encountered much. There have been significant days that go on the calendar with big letters. Honeymoon. Moving to a new state. Senior recitals. College graduation. First apartments. Student recitals. Growing businesses. Dream job offers. Moving to a new community. Opening nights. Traveling out of the country. For two years we have done much that goes in the exciting adventure categories. But the vast majority of these seven hundred and thirty days have been simply ordinary.
Scrambled eggs. Laundry. Paper writing and paper grading. Paying bills and searching for places to live. Job applications submitted. Loading up the briefcase and backpack and heading to work. Morning kisses and evening cuddles. Red box movies and frozen pizzas. Learning to defer to each other’s wishes, learning to navigate through each other’s feelings, learning to understand each other’s needs. Flat tires and broken windshield wipers. Where should we get dinner tonight and which parent’s do we celebrate Christmas at this year? And how do we honor God and build His kingdom in the midst of this normalcy? Our ordinary days have made up the bulk of our marriage. The wedding party that was happening two years ago today was a huge event and a magnificent celebration. But the quiet, daily life that has followed is where the hearts have been formed and the lives have truly merged.
The world wants flashy romance and exciting stories. And though we have our moments that would look great in a movie that’s not the essence of our relationship. Daily life, ordinary tasks, morning breath and late night crabbies. Waking up every morning with the desire to serve each other and going to bed every night with all the differences and misunderstandings past us. Looking ahead at this normal life we’ve been given to live and going forward together as a unified team. This is the romance our love story tells. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Part of our wedding ceremony was washing each other’s feet. We did so to follow Christ’s example that He set before us the night before he was crucified. His call is for us to kneel before one another with a servant’s heart and show love by menial and sometimes nasty work. We desired to begin our marriage with this as our standard. So we kneel, and we take each other’s feet in our hands, and we wash. Or maybe we don’t wash. Maybe we stay up late to help finish projects. Maybe we sit patiently through tears of frustration. Maybe we get up early to make breakfast. Or maybe it is taking time off in the middle of a crazy week to give the other quality time. Somedays its less appealing, somedays its pretty hard. We aren’t always dressed our best, and pearly white heels and shiny black dress shoes aren’t our normal attire, we are learning to choose daily to kneel before each other and serve. And this is what has made the past seven hundred and thirty days of ordinary life some of the most beautiful I have lived.