I used to be proud of our testimony

Now I just love the One who has stayed with us all these years and will never forsake us. Our “testimony” almost doesn’t matter as much as the fingerprints of the One who writes our story.

It’s all simple now. Nothing dramatic:

I love my husband. I feel like it’s taken ten years of marriage and a l-o-t of hard times to get here, but I just love him. It’s finally no longer tied to anything he does or doesn’t do. I love him for who he is and not who I always wanted him to be. I celebrate that, and I think he does too.

My husband loves me. No holds barred. He loves me in ways I had always hoped he would but wasn’t sure if he ever COULD. I’m not talking about sexual functioning (which has never been an issue), but the ways he holds me in his heart. The ways he treats me, looks at me, even beholds me in my God-given beauty. Even when I’m not feeling or acting particularly beautiful. Boy, do I celebrate this.

But our conversion story? Our ‘powerful testimony?’ It no longer defines me. It no longer defines us. I’m not ashamed of our story by any means, but I don’t stand on it as proof that I’m anything ‘special’ (i.e. ‘better than regular people’) any more.

It just is. And what matters is today, and how we treat the people in our lives today. How we go about our work today. And every night I want to be able to look back at the day and thank our Daddy for another day worth celebrating.