My Best Friend

Who is your best friend? An old college roommate? Your mom? A sister? I happen to be married to my best friend. Goodness, I can't believe that next month Greg and I will have been married for 9 years. It seems impossible, and yet look what we've accomplished in those 3,285 days! We have 3 kids, we've lived in 3 houses, we've owned 3 cars! (good things come in 3's I guess.)

In some ways I feel like I have known Greg my whole life and then there are times when I look at him and wonder how well I actually know him. We think differently and yet we can read each others thoughts. We respond to situations in our own ways and yet we know how the other will react. We finish each others sentences. Where I am weak, he is strong. When I don't have an answer, he puts everything into perspective. We are familiar with each other and can be ourselves without fear.

What is it like to walk through life with your best friend? It's awesome, it's comforting, it's reassuring, it's joyous! Greg and I have committed to never separate, to never call it quits. The vows we took before God and our families are words we didn't take lightly. We look around us at marraiges falling apart and are so comforted knowing that will never happen to us. We definately go through rough seasons, we have traveled through a few valleys, we have been in the trenches. And I'm sure there are more storms, valleys and trenches ahead. But, we have also stood on mountaintops, soared higher than the clouds and laughed together through happy times. But, whether good or bad, we walked through it together. Hand in hand. Side by side.

Sure, there have been times that I have compared myself to a comfortable old shoe. Broken in, stretched out, so familiar that it's no longer exciting and fresh. (I just bought a new pair of winter boots and they are so cute! That was exciting, my old tennis shoes are boring.) Sometimes I feel that Greg and I know each other so well that nothing is new and exciting anymore. I can't impress Greg with my looks anymore because he knows what I look like in the mornings. I can't show off any special talent because he knows me so thoroughly. He's already seen everything, experienced all I have to offer. How can he be so excited and happy to come home each day?

And yet, what's wrong with being comfortable and broken in? Isn't that true love? The tingly feelings have long since passed, although every once in awhile I still feel those. But this is deeper than the initial tingles you feel when you look into each others eyes, or hold hands for the first time. There is no one who knows me like Greg. (And to think he still loves me!) To him, I am comfortable, broken in, and reliable. And he's the same for me. We are best friends, and we're quite the pair of old shoes. I love you, Greg!