Thirty five years ago a woman gave birth to her first child – the very child that her doctors had warned her not to have. Despite those doctors’ warnings (and I imagine, to their surprise), he was completely healthy.
Approximately three years later that child was happily playing outside when he tripped, not unlike most children. Except this time he was carrying a stick. And there’s a reason parents warn against running with sharp objects. Again, he surprised doctors. Though he lost his eye, his brain was undamaged.
Fast forward to adulthood. He’s riding his motorcycle with some friends when he hits a bit of gravel and slides into a van. His friends watch in horror as a semi-truck approaches, convinced they’re watching the end of him. He emerges with bruises & a bloody nose – the semi having missed his head by mere inches.
He experienced deep hurts yet remains loving. He tasted betrayal yet is unspeakably loyal. He will make you laugh yet he knows how to truly listen. He is open to new ideas and discussions yet firm in his beliefs. He is compassionate and responsible. He’s the best gift giver I know and grills up a mean steak. He is intuitive and self less and hilarious and honest.
I call him my miracle. His life is a miracle. That I ever learned of his existence is a miracle. That he loves me is a miracle. That I get to be married to him…it’s the ultimate privilege.
Happy Birthday to my amazing husband. I look forward to the next 35 years.