Like most young girls, I thought about my future wedding now and then-what my groom would look like, the dress, the lights, the flowers-all the small things that set such a day apart from all others. But more than all of that, I wondered what it would feel like to say “I do”.
Fast forward several years to a rainy August evening where I did stand before God and witnesses, and spoke holy vows to the tall man in front of me.
I will have and hold.
I will honor and obey.
I will take you as my husband, and forsake all others.
I will hold to only you.
I will?? What happened to “I do”? Forgive me for asking, but doesn’t “I do” seem a little more classic? More romantic? More…..wedding-like?
Ah, naive little bride was I.
Eight years later, I am only just now beginning to understand where the “I do” comes into play. Why I wasn’t meant to say it on my wedding day, amidst the pomp and circumstance, the feasting and the ebb and flow of the waltzes.
Because I have said “I do” every single day since.
I spoke “I will” publicly in silk and satin, but I have whispered “I do” privately to the rising sun, blazing in glory. I have shouted it surrounded by the reek of diapers and burnt bread. I have cried it to the darkness in cold sheets and bruised emotions. And I have laughed it to the wind, as the trees shed their flaming coats.
On happy days, frustrating days, days when everything and everyone is messy, days full of romantic excitement, and days weighed down by the mundane- it may not always be spoken aloud, but it’s there.
I do have and hold you.
I do strive to honor and obey.
I do take you to be mine and forsake all others.
I do choose you.
I choose you.
Every day, every morning, every evening-the vows are silently spoken yet again. Renewed over and over and over, until the door to the next life is opened to one of us.
I choose you.