Lucky Number 7

Seven years ago today, I found myself kneeling across an alter, rather shocked to hear the word, "yes" coming from Brad and having to do with getting married.

We dated for three fabulous years. Most teenage boys would merely show their devotion to their girlfriends with poems, flowers or chocolates. Not Brad. He'd show up at the door with flowers . . . for my mother. And a pizza, for my dad. Then, before he'd open the door to his run-down pick -up truck for me, he'd take my dog for a ride. And while I was away at school, he'd even drive hours out of his way to chauffer my brother around to school and his sporting events.

When Brad went on his mission we wrote back and forth. (I might have dated a few guys a little in between penning my devotion to Brad, but seriously, those poor boys couldn't stand a chance.)

We thought we could survive the worst . . . and that we had survived the worst.

Then came the cyclone-like engagement that was, well, a little bumpy to say the least. I really never knew whether the wedding was on or off until we were at the alter.

And then the wedding day (of course amid finals and graduation) on which just about anything that could go wrong pretty much did. Let's just say that it started with Brad (pre-cell phone days) locking his keys in the car at the top of a mountain at 6am and went downhill from there. (Truly, the whole day made me understand why people elope!)

Fortunately, things have gotten better. Much better. And they continue to get better with every day since.

I married my best friend, someone who seemed like my equal (which back then, was a feat!). Since our wedding day, I have realized that I married up. Brad still goes out of his way to please me and my family, even when he is so exhausted that he can barely keep his head up. He keeps me guessing all the time as to where we're going, or what we're doing in our life. And, even though he could just merely take good care of me, it's not uncommon for some spoiling to occur (maybe more frequently than it should!).

He's what you'd consider the "All-American", well rounded, great guy that neighbourhood children idolize and old grandmothers love. And I was lucky enough to catch him.

It seems the last seven years went blissfully by way too fast. (I suppose two degrees, three kids, five moves, countless vacations, and a puppy will do that to you.)

I hope the next seven will be equally as blissful but maybe a little slower so we can really savour every [great] moment.