I don't have an uber romantic story of how he proposed to me or a chunky diamond ring to remind me.
He didn't hire the paparazzi to snap pictures of the proposal. He didn't scour my pinterest account to throw together the wedding of my dreams as a surprise. He didn't fly in a hundred guests to share in a surprise wedding or arrange for the whole wedding party to sing Lachaim! at our reception.
But here's what he did do.
He sold his camera so I could fly to his hometown to meet his family.
He listened for the growl of our diesel truck in Africa so he could rush out and open the gate for me. Every time.
He rubs my shoulders every time I set myself in front of him.
He played with the kids every evening while I made dinner, bathed them while I did dishes, and read aloud to them before bed.
In 26 years of marriage, I can think of only one time when he said, "It'd be okay if you don't cook that again."
He dug my garden, planted my fig tree, ordered the wood for my new floor. He goes along with most of my crazy ideas. Or if he can't go along, he lets me go without him. He works hard every day. When work was scarce, he's even dug ditches in the freezing rain. He never complains.
He thinks deeply, stays calm, and brings a different perspective to problems that stump me.
And when I see him in a crowd, he still makes my heart flutter.
My beloved is mine and I am his...
Song of Songs 2:16
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