The Numbers Keep Going Up

 

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.”