Happily ever dreams.

Dreams. Happily ever dreams.  I was nineteen.  I'd found love.  The life I envisioned on my wedding day was filled with grand achievements, happy occupations of time, and a bright future.   And I've had all that.  The images are stacked one of top of the other.  They are different than my imagination, but they are real.  And real is good. 

Our valleys in life are deep gorges, but the looking up is spectacular.  The lows can be seen from our heights, but our legs are stronger because of them, and our God is bigger as we traverse.

I've only shaved my husbands beard once, for fun.  This time it's for love.  I love loving him in his need.  His pain is too much to bear alone; the simplest acts too big.  And as I glide the blade over his head and face, I think, He looks just like his dad.  While serving him, the love I know and feel wells up from my heart, almost hurting.  The joys of a thousand memories flood my mind.  Snapshots.  Him, dancing a jig through a theme park. Elaborate stories about how Tiramisu got it's name and why crackerjacks must be eaten.  Smothering our newborn daughter's cheeks with kisses. Writing parody about me and singing it with the children.  Even the memories of trials bring joy.  Because I know the man who walked them through.  Humble. Comedic. Fragile. Strong.  He's all of this and more.  And if we never move on from this moment of service, I'm good.

I'm so thankful that Christ lands our feet, no matter our plans. (Proverbs 16:9) As perfect as my early imaginations seemed to be, in the Lord's wisdom, I'm right where I need to be.  In disillusionment, I find reality.  And Real is better.  Because this is where He makes dreams come true.