When I was in high school, I remember wondering who I would marry someday. I thought it would be so much fun to jump into the future and see a day in the life of future Jackie. I wanted to see the name that I would sign on my checks at the grocery store. {I find this extremely amusing because I'm pretty sure that I've never written a single check at the grocery store.} I wanted to see my home, my car, my job, my life.
When Josh and I got married, I thought I was ready for the life that was ahead of me. I wasn't. I don't think you ever are. It's not possible to be prepared for life when you haven't lived much of it. Experience is life lived.
When I look at our wedding photos, I can't help but think that I was unknowingly two weeks away from landing my first teaching job, three weeks away from welcoming 24 students into a 5th grade classroom, and five weeks away from unexpectedly conceiving a child. Oh my. It overwhelms me just to think about it. That summer seems like a lifetime ago, and yet where has the time gone?
During that four month period in 2002, I had graduated college, bought a house, gotten married, began my first year teaching, and gotten pregnant. I remember people being shocked by all of the changes in my life, but honestly I just didn't know any different. Life experience was certainly having its way with me.
There was so much going on during our first year of marriage that I don't remember a lot of it. I remember not cooking much, mostly because I was so exhausted, overwhelmed, and inexperienced. My mom came to my rescue and cleaned my messy house on more than one occasion because I just didn't even know how to keep on top of that 1200 square foot house {with no children in it yet}. The thought kind of makes me laugh at this point. There are certainly days when I still feel overwhelmed by my never-ending to-do list around here, but now I have daughters to help me instead of my mom. I'm sure she appreciates the change of roles.
But I would learn.
At 23 years old, I had never cooked dinner 5 nights in a row, done more than 2 loads of laundry in a week, cleaned up a child's vomit, moved an entire household, bawled in complete helplessness over a sick child, had a gray hair, forced medication down a 5 year old's throat, completely lost my patience, changed 6,000 diapers, taken a child to the emergency room, read the same book what seemed like 63 times in the same afternoon, or fully appreciated the sound of silence at the end of a day.
In the last eleven years, I have experienced some of the most amazing things. I've held four of the most lovely babies on the face of the planet. I've felt overwhelming gratitude. I've sang children to sleep. I've owned and sold a business. I've taught two children how to read. I've heard the words "yuv you" from the lips of all of my children at age two and have decided that it never, ever gets old. I've figured out how to survive as a wife and mother.
I've gained a whole lot of life experience in the last eleven years. I know there is more to come, both ups and downs. The gray hairs that have appeared on my head inform me that I do, indeed, have some experience. The brown ones remind me that there is still a lot to learn.
These days are filled with more hard work, dishes, laundry, planning, and prayer than I could have thought possible when I imagined my future at age 16. Yet when I take a step back and occasionally achieve a good night's sleep, they are also filled with more joy, thankfulness, and blessings. I could not have ever imagined the goodness of these years, and while I had initially planned them differently, I truly wouldn't trade them for anything else.
What a true blessing it is to stand beside Josh and raise our four daughters. What a true blessing it is to live this life. Eleven years from now, we'll be in a whole different ball game. Instead of just entering the tween years and ending the toddler years, we'll be ending the tween years and entering the college years.
There is nothing innately exciting about the eleventh year of marriage other than it's starting to sound like longevity. Eleven is comfortable to me. Eleven means that we're through the physically hardest days of parenting. Eleven means that the emotionally hardest days are on their way.
Eleven is good.
