You came like a beacon in the night–the night that seemed so infinitely interminable. I wasn’t looking for you. I never had dared to hope for you. I had brushed you off, written you off the moment we met, just knowing that you were way too good for the likes of a broken mess of a pathetically selfish human being like me. You were just too wonderful.
The lighthouse that you were—I had long before closed my eyes, convinced that no light could ever be visible again on my death-bound voyage of darkness.
But grace, only grace, swept me into your arms. I certainly never would have thrown myself into them. You, the one who was so far beyond me, wanted me. And the second miracle was that I actually opened to you. I was the one who sent out the “stay the hell away from me or else I will punch you in the face” signal to every dude on the planet. But you made it in. You disarmed my armor. You made it in with your chicken noodle soup and out-of-the-way trips through my drive thru window.
You, through grace, ever-so-gracefully came into my life on a chariot of redemption and gently and patiently helped me up into that grace. With your love, you drove out the toxicity of self-hatred. You hold up a mirror of truth and compassion. You will never know and I can never express the fullness of the redemption that you have brought to my story, our story.
My love, my miracle, my husband.