Romance is what you make it

There is something about the ocean that forces me to be pensive. I was thinking of this last night as Korey and I strolled along the beach together. Perhaps it's my sister getting married, or my sister getting married at the same place that we were married, or that Korey asked me to marry him on a beach much like this one after a stroll much like this one, that makes me want to think on love. 

As we were walking, I was reminded of a quote from a book I used to have by Donald Miller. I can't find it online, so I'll just have to badly paraphrase it, but it went along the lines of "Is it not miraculous that God makes the sun rise every morning?" There is a certain miraculousness in constancy, in every day things. Which is more miraculous, that God heals a wounded heart or makes the sunrise every day for more than two thousand years? I'm slowly learning that length is the most beautiful thing about marriage. 

When we reached the sand, I took my shoes off and Korey offered to carry them for me so that I could take pictures as we walked. 

We have always been more this kind of couple than the handholding, public kissing, romantic kind of couple. 

It is a love of mutual respect, of consideration, of companionship, a comfortable kind of love.

The day we got engaged I had been teasing Korey. We had taken a day trip to Savannah from his grandmother's house and I said casually over dinner, "You are just not a romantic person. We can be in the most romantic place in the world and you would be totally oblivious to it." So I was not surprised when he said, "Let's go walk on the peer and then walk on the beach and watch the sunset." I thought to myself, "This man is the most stubborn man on the planet, and he is out to prove me wrong." So we walked the peer and then walked all the way down the beach and all the way to the other end of the beach. And suddenly, he stopped and grabbed his pocket. "I have to give you something before I lose it," he said. I said, "Well don't give it to me. I'll definitely lose it!" And there he stood with his hands cupped and my beautiful ring sitting sweetly on his fingers. 

"I was hoping that you would be my wife." 

"of course I will."

I'm starting to think my idea of romance was all wrong. 

What is romance?

Holding hands in public?

or holding shoes? 

or getting the camera back from your husband and realizing that he's taken several pictures of your freckled, round, nothing special face?

 

 

This is my every day miracle.

My best friend.

My romance.

Love is in the little things.