The race today makes me think of Grace and grace and time.
In college Grace and I ran a race together. Beefy did too, but I think of Grace because we kept pace the whole, tired time. Mom and Rachel were there too, but still I think of Grace because of so many days of runs, and seventy long minutes and seven long miles the day before my grandpa's funeral, and I thought now I can do anything.
I've lost track of the years. I count back by memories. Grandpa died the year before Deb got married, and that was three years ago. So four years? I don't remember it being the year I graduated, but it must have been.
I think of grace because of those four years. The first year of holding everything in. The second of letting everything out. The third of finally resting and finding the balance of life. Time doesn't heal wounds; God grows them into something beautiful.
And the grace of the years makes me think of time. Four years ago, I was a shadow-person. I knew whoever I was wasn't there, was hiding around the corner, perhaps, or, Pan-like, searching for me. I fought and cried and hated and clawed through everything I could think of until the quiet moment of redemption. I cling to the quiet moment of redemption, of no longer being able to stand and grasping the carpet beneath my fingers and then feeling the arms of God and hearing the whisper of love and acceptance and come home.
The time in these years has meant so much beautiful change. Rachel met Dan, and married him, and now our family is welcoming some strange new person in the fall. Grace met Scott, and married him. Amy met her Scott, and is marrying him in June.
And I met Rob. Two years ago, I walked into a room and saw the world change before my eyes. Logically, I know love at first sight is ridiculous. All the things that make a person someone you love are things you learn later. And yet I knew. I saw him, and I knew that this moment would alter everything. Or, rather, this person.
I am a words person, and he makes me run out of words. I try to pull together a way to say how I feel about such sacrificial love and how he understands me more than I ever thought anyone could and how I love his wild, mischievous streak and how he loves peoples so deeply, and nothing can touch who he is and how my life is changed by him. Words are never enough.
Sickness and health. Better and worse. 31 days, and life with him.
