The seventh year of marriage is often considered a challenging one. Perhaps the idea is largely due to an old Marilyn Monroe flick, but there is probably some truth to the timeline. Maybe even more so for second marriages.
Our seventh year has indeed been a tough one. After celebrating six years on top of a cliff overlooking the incredible New River Gorge in West Virginia, the immediate months that followed dropped us to the bottom of that gorge.
If we had misstepped while admiring the view and plummeted the steep pitch to the river below, ungracefully hitting every rock on our way down, and bellyflopped into those rapids, that would basically sum up year seven.
But, if we lived to tell the tale (and spoiler alert: we did), what a tale to tell, right?
Because that terrifying free-fall of worsening cancer and new treatments, those rocks of side effects and multiple hospital stays, the hard landing of caregiving and uncertainty of the future, the whitewater rapids of trauma’s aftermath are all met with God’s grace.
It flows abundantly without ceasing. Peace like a river.
He saturates us with His love and carries us. He provides a raft of support, forcing us to let go of control, to let go of fear, to hold onto that boat, to cling to Him and to each other.
We are still bruised and waterlogged, but the view as we approach the end of year seven is still beautiful.
Anyone who has seen mountains from a valley knows this to be true.
So, no matter where we will be celebrating this year, you can bet we will be staying far away from any cliff ledges.
Instead, you can find us continuing down the path, side by side, hand in hand, one ungraceful yet grateful step at a time.
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