The number of 2, 3, and 4 year olds in class at church
The number of friends in our
house on Friday for Home Group
The number of ladies giving
their time and energy and hearts to serve the children and babies at church
The number of people around
us whose lives have changed because of the gospel
The number of texts I get
daily from friends
The number of loads of
laundry
The number of friends we have
with accents entirely different from our own
The number of coffee cups I
wash after people leave from meeting in our home
The number of stickers I
stick at the top of my kids papers when their school work is well done
The number of dust bunnies
(mice?) that scurry around in my corners
The number of new friends
Abby wants to invite to her birthday party
The number of times Josh
comes down the stairs after he’s supposed to be asleep to tell us what he’s
just read in Acts
The number of hugs I get from
the kids during the day
The number of shouts of “I
LOVE YOU” ringing through our halls at random intervals
The number of times I get to
say “It is so good to see you!” (and actually mean it!)
The number of years I ‘ve been
by the side of my best friend
This week Matthew and I
celebrated 15 years of friendship.
That night, that many years
ago, we sat idly on a swing, close together, trying not to shiver on a crisp,
autumn evening. His feet on the ground, pushing the swing back and forth, my
toes, just barely touching the ground.
We leaned on each other,
keeping the chill from sneaking between us. My nose was a little red and
starting to be a little runny.
“I wanted to ask you
something,” he said.
We had been sitting there for
over an hour. Really, we had been sitting there for months. Sitting in that
swing under the tree, sitting at a table near the campus bookstore, sitting
next to each other in class. Sitting in church. Sitting in my sister’s
apartment watching a movie. Sitting in Chapel, sitting in Hardy Hall eating
mystery meat. Sitting and talking, sitting and talking and walking and talking
and working and talking and sitting and studying and talking.
“What’s your hobby?” My
sister had asked him a few weeks before.
“Spending time with Bonnie!”
was his reply.
“What’s your question?” I
replied to him on that swing.
“Will you be my girlfriend?
Officially?” He looks into my face, searches my eyes as he asks this question.
“Can this finally change things? Can we get on the path of spending the rest of
our days together?” His eyes asked.
I am lost in his eyes. Those
brown, thinking, determined, gentle eyes. I know what he is asking.
“Yes. I thought you would
never ask.” Sigh, smile, laugh a little. Here, next to me, sits the most
amazing person with whom I have ever spent time. The tree above us whispers a
laugh and another gust of November wind lifts my hair and bends his curls. My
nose is redder and colder, and my eyes are stinging a little now as the
joy-tears mix with the wind. The stars are bright specks of light in the Texas
sky.
I look in his eyes. The same
eyes I will look into for the next 15 years.
He smiles, and laughs, the
same smiles and laughs I see and hear for the next 15 years.
He kisses me. Our first kiss.
Our first of many, many kisses.
So the number of blessings is
going up.
The number of memories is
going up.
The number of years I have
been best friends with Matthew...
The number of redeemed
arguments and hard-times and failures...
The number of
never-doing-that-again’s…
The number of
glad-I-tried-it-but-its-not-my-favorite’s...
The number of times we stay
up late, talking each other to sleep…
The number of times we ask
for forgiveness…
The number of times we say “I
love you.”