Marriage is... love, patient, kind... We've all heard that and it is true. But what we never talk about when folks are wearing white dresses and tuxes is exactly what those words mean. Let me tell you want they mean to me.
Over the past 18 months my husband has battled not one but two different types of cancer. Anyone that has stood next to someone as they face a life threatening illness knows that while cancer is in his body, the pain is shared. I pray. I worry. I go to doctor's appointments and take notes. I fuss. I cry. I panic. I study. But even with all of that I know that it doesn't measure up to what he is going through. I have to admit that I would be lost if I didn't see my grandmother care for my grandfather as he was battling cancer. The care she showed him was the epitome of what a marriage is supposed to be.
Don't get me wrong, he frustrates the hell out of me and I him. But I'm grateful for every day that I have a chance to be in his presence. I now know that time is fleeting. Forever isn't promised. Statistically, one of us will meet Jesus first and this story - our love story - will one day come to an end. When that day comes, I know that the other will be there covering the other in prayer and blanketing them in love.
So, yes, I still love him, and I will continue to love him as long as God allows.