Updated: Apr 19, 2020
April 10. Good Friday.
It’s the day Jesus went into the grave. The day He took all of our sins upon Himself, absorbing them forever, and let His blood flow out. He was slaughtered as a Passover Lamb so death would pass over me and nothing that I’ve done would be able to separate me from Love.
April 10. My anniversary.
This is Larry. Three years ago today we woke up early and rushed to a courthouse to get married in the presence of four people who didn’t know what to think. No one else had any idea.
He was 29 years older than me, and he’d just gotten divorced.
What was I thinking? That's a fair question.
All I saw was an exit. There was an open door that invited me to escape, to cut all ties, and to be free. I didn’t care how anyone else felt. To me, they hadn’t cared for years, so why would it matter? Never mind how absurd the plan was, or how it would devastate our families, or how it would plunge us into darkness… we just wanted to be loved, to feel like we mattered to at least one human being.
I didn’t want to keep feeling like it would be better for everyone if I were dead. I didn’t want the constant anxiety to continue plaguing me. I didn’t want to tiptoe around what was supposed to be home. I didn’t want to hide anymore. I wanted to land in arms that understood the value of what they were holding.
Something had to change. So we did it. We ran away, gave each other rings, and I permanently joined myself to the life of another without any idea of what it would entail.
But one thing was for sure: I was serious.
I wanted to love someone who would take my love seriously. To me it didn’t matter that he was so much older. Not one part of me doubted that if I let him have my heart he would treat it kindly.
Choices like this cause harm to the hearts of everyone involved, and in this case that was a lot of people. When the aftermath became clear, we didn’t know what we were going to do.
And yet—Good Friday.
The power of that cross to absorb the sin and pain of the world will never be fully understood, but I know it took mine. Weary and broken, I came with a burden that was taken into that crucified flesh, leaving me weightless. It was months before I could even believe it was true. I knew about mercy… but this? Is this even real?
It’s a story that will take months to tell, and I will continue to…
But in the meantime, thank you Larry.
Thank you for loving me. This love is healing. Thank you for believing in me, for staying with me, for not giving up on me, and for being willing to walk this road with me. We learned a lot of things the hard way, but we did it in record time!
I love our imperfect, messy, beautiful, wonderful life together! I love the peace in our home, the warmth in your smile, the safety in your arms, the aroma of grace, and the gentleness that coats our world. I love that we found mercy, dared to receive it, and that we’ve learned to give it away.
I love your gray hair, the lines in your face, your reading glasses, and the references to the 70s that I don’t understand. I love that I can relax with you completely even though you know all about my flaws. I love that what we thought might destroy us has been redeemed and is now a garden teeming with life and joy! I love everything about you! Thank you for three years of wonder, and I look forward to the days ahead!