Almost every time we've been to church during the past couple of months, as we walk up the stairs to the front doors of the church, the greeter stops us with a simple comment.
"It's so nice to see young people still holding hands."
The actual comment varies from week to week. The joy that greeter expresses over my husband holding my hand as we walk up the stairs never does. He's made that comment often enough that I've had to stop and think about it. About what it means. About why I love it. About why I love this man I'm married to.
We aren't perfect. We fuss. We don't really fight - it's just not in our nature. But, boy, do we love each other and our life together. That's really the only way to describe it.
We love the nights sitting at home on the couch with Eve. We love the cocktails and dinners with friends. We love our random road trips to see family or theme parks or sporting events. At first glance, I'd think our life could seem rather simple. We spend time together. We have fun. We'd honestly rather be with each other than anyone else. We'd rather be at home together, in the house we share with the puppy we adore, than anywhere else. And we're both beyond okay with that.
I know we live in a very different world than our parents and grandparents grew up in. I've almost lost count of the friends I've had get married and then divorced - and some are almost remarried. This is to say nothing of them - it's simply become something that has reminded me of how fragile things can be, and of what a marriage needs. It needs to be treasured and tended to and loved.
Somehow I've gotten much deeper than I planned to tonight.... but it's all to say, that I love being married to a man who holds my hand. I'm not sure I can imagine life without him holding my hand each step of the way!
Here's to holding hands, and living a life we love...