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Thirty-seven years. That’s a lifetime for some people. That is how long I’ve been married to the man who swept me off my feet at Bible college in Waxahachie, TX, on August 12, 1982. He walked into the student union building, spotted me singing around the piano with a group of freshmen, and asked if I wanted to go outside and talk. I had never seen him before, but I knew this was a special man.

My heart still skips a beat when I see him. I still love the smell of his cologne when I hug him and breathe in his scent. Like a Texan to BBQ, I’m still drawn to his wit, his intellect, and his wicked sexy smile.

Since May 21, 1983, we have lived through the lowest lows and the highest highs. We have seen each other through the death of my mom within the first two months of our marriage and the death of Chip’s dad within the first two years.

We have been so poor, we lived on Top Ramen and potatoes in our very first house in Soldotna, Alaska – a 10x50-foot mobile home perched in a trailer park. We have been so rich, we traveled to Paris and London and returned to a two-story home with multiple bedrooms and no wheels underneath.

We have been footloose and fancy-free, kid-less, enjoying late-night dinners with friends, using our last $20 to eat out at Arby’s in Fresno on the weekends because we only had each other to take care of...and because Jamocha shakes were awesome. We have taken turns staying home with the siblings while the other rushes a kid to the ER for one reason or another, missed social events because our kids’ games or school programs were more important, and have taken on extra work to help pay for sports and school and braces and all the things that go along with raising children.

We have been cheerleaders for one another as we’ve worked to earn college degrees. Having attended just one year of Bible college before getting married and moving to Alaska to be youth pastors, we were both determined to continue our education. Once kids came along, that became more challenging and required some sacrifices. We could not have accomplished our goals without mutual support. We are proud of each other.

We have sailed through seasons of bliss and feelings of being in love. We have persevered through times of wondering if we would make it to the other side...together.

We have cried together as we witnessed the birth of our four children. And we have cried together in the dark well of grief after losing one of those children.

We have learned that marriage is not about a whim or a fancy or a feeling. Marriage is a commitment to see one another through the best and the worst. It is an acknowledgment that neither will do it perfectly, but if both are willing to stay in the game, to say “I’m sorry,” and to be willing to grow, there is a good chance it will be a love story told by kids and grandkids in years to come. They will only discover when they live it themselves that it was not magic. It was devotion, commitment, prayer, grace, forgiveness, tears, chaos, compromise, bliss, ecstasy, agony, perseverance, friendship, attraction, respect, anger, honesty, and an ongoing re-deciding that continuing together is better than continuing without one another.

I love you, Chip. Thirty-seven years. And you are still the one I want to be snuggled up on the couch with.