the answer

Six years ago, on a cold night in Virginia, Steve insisted that we take a walk. He wanted to look at Christmas lights. I wanted to stay inside, like normal people do in the winter.

But I gave in. We walked and talked and ended up at a large Christmas tree on campus. And then Steve did something totally surprising: he asked me a question that would change the course of my entire life.

The answer, of course, was yes.

The answer still is.

Every day I wake up next to him, and the answer is yes. I mop the floors and do the laundry, and the answer is yes. We have a misunderstanding, and the answer is yes. We laugh until we cry, and the answer is yes. We change jobs and buy groceries, rake leaves and go to church. The answer is yes.

Life doesn't turn out the way we thought it would, and the answer is yes.

I coudn't have known then what our life would look like today. I can't know today what our life will look like in six more years, or ten, or forty.



But I knew the right answer. I didn't have to puzzle it out or phone a friend or check my notes. The right answer had been staring me in the face, waiting on the tip of my tongue, for quite some time. So when the moment arrived, I was ready.


I'm still ready.


Sometimes life seems like a test. I scribble in the margins and do some long division and try to apply what I've learned. And under all the little questions that make up a day, there is the one big question that now mostly goes unspoken. But it's still there and it's still just as important as the first time he asked.


And today, I am thankful that I still know the right answer.