"Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony." Colossians 3:14.
I remember our first meeting, but not as well as I do our
second. It was the spring term in 2001. We were outside the college library. I
have a mental snapshot of you in that moment. It was snowing; you were wearing
a winter hat; you had a pile of books under your arm; we didn’t expect to see
one another. You smiled at me like I was the only person in the world who
mattered. And from that moment, I was sunk.
If that meeting is indicative of anything, it is that we
were fated for stories.
I love books, yes. But most of all, I love our story. I love
what we have done and what we have not. I love that you can master any freaking
task in an HOUR; that you are willing to show me anything and forgive my
tendency to space out. I love that you’ll finish coma-worthy nonfiction in a
matter of days and take a decade to finish a novel. I love that we have a
daughter obsessed with pink. I love that these last two facts continue to
baffle me.
Most of all I love that loving you has been the easiest
thing in the world.
I’ll admit when I found out we were pregnant again I had some
severe reservations. How could I find any more? At some point love has to run
out, right? Or take from other things and people in your life? I am already
completely obsessed with the results of the first pregnancy. Which I teased
five years ago was the consequence of over-love. One baby couldn’t possibly hold
it all.
So God gave us two.
And here we are again – facing new life. And looking at the
strong possibility that our little square family will shift shape into
something resembling a circle. Which if they were books on the shelf would roll
around and come tumbling out. But maybe this new book movement is onto
something. Maybe they shouldn’t all have four corners.
Or maybe we’ll have to bring back the scroll.
I won’t pretend that this couldn’t all change in an instant
– and that there won’t be things we don’t understand. But for right now I’ll be
content knowing how hopelessly wrong I was just a few months ago. This is
amazing. This is you – and I will keep my promise to encase him or her in the
best that I can give.
I find myself thinking about faith and love – and that our
position has always been that if you’re not keeping the two of them together at
all times you’re doing it wrong. Everything else is just noise – whatever else
you put in front of it.
I am so joyful that we’re figuring out a way to edit our
little life; our small home, small car, small bank account, to include room for
one more. As far as what worries everyone else – birth plans and nursery
options – all that matters in the world to me is that you were there in the
beginning and that you are there in the end.
Nothing makes me realize the potential of light-out-of-darkness
quite the way a sonogram does. There was nothing – and then all of a sudden,
there is. A head, beating heart and little hand.
Thank you, Tony. For this little gift growing bit by bit.
Who is completely obsessed with granola and hummus. Who had me crawling on my
hands and knees for the last quarter of 2013.
And for letting me fall in love with you outside a library constructed in the shape of a circle. Which at the time seemed a silly shape for a building to hold rectangular objects.
And for letting me fall in love with you outside a library constructed in the shape of a circle. Which at the time seemed a silly shape for a building to hold rectangular objects.
But now seems just right.
Jackie, You make my heart happy, you make my soul glad and you make me feel light as a feather. I love your love. I thought nobody had a love story like Billy and I. I was wrong. There are others. You are proof! No matter what you write, I love it. You always put me under a spell of love and fuzzy feelings! Thank you!
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