This is Our Shibboleth

Something we say, my love, is, “It’s a good life.”

No matter what sort of difficulty or time of ease we are in, we find a way to say this.
It’s as simple as a bumper sticker, but it feels much more than a catchphrase.

I feel the way I felt when we were at the altar exchanging wedding vows, nine years ago this week, every time I say it.
It’s not just a family slogan — it’s a renewal of our marriage vows.
It’s proof that we are doing this together, in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer.
We said this, we say this, and we will say this through all the ups and downs of our life together.

Why?
Why have we been able to say this—with full conviction, all the way into our bones?

First, we have made so many adjustments.
We’ve made mistakes in how we treat each other and as parents.
We’ve made mistakes in our jobs and with money.
We’ve made mistakes in how we’ve treated others.
But the difference has been, I think, that just as surely as we’ve made mistakes—we’ve adjusted.
We’ve learned to vision the future.
We’ve learned to talk about deeply terrifying problems.
We’ve learned to accept each other’s humanity and mortality.
And we’ve learned how to do simple life things like share a bathroom, a kitchen, and a calendar.

That, of course, is the practical side of how we’ve mustered something to cherish every day of our marriage.
There is also a bit of the divine.

The other reason we have been able to swear by the idea that "it’s a good life” is because we’ve seen what we have, and we truly believe that what we have is enough.
We have not dwelled on everything we lack.

We’re blessed.
We have a big family.
We have enough money to meet our basic needs and a little extra, despite the grueling cost of child care.
We have good neighbors and good friends.
We have each other.

There are plenty of things we don’t have.
We don’t have a house on a lake, or a path to retire by 50.
We don’t have endless solitude or a life free from grief and hardship.
We don’t have jobs that are always easy or hair untouched by grey.
We don’t have a lot of free time, or the effortless cool we might have once had.

But what we have is enough.
We have chosen to see abundance, not absence.
And that choice has built our good life.

I hope, my love, that when I tell you I love you, you believe me just as much today as you did when we were married, before God and our closest friends and family nine years ago.
Because I do.

But there’s something I don’t say enough — something I want you to know, deep into our ninth year:
I am grateful, down to my bones, that I am enough for you.
You make me feel, every day, that I am enough for you.
That I don’t have to strive for what we don’t have.
That who I am, and what we share, is enough.

And you — you have always been, and will always be, more than enough for me.

The truth is, our good life has already filled my cup, over and over again.
To love you and be loved by you is enough.
To have been your husband and the father of our children is enough.
To belong to you, and to have you belong to me, is enough.

This ninth anniversary feels especially sacred.
It’s our first with all four of our sons here — a house alive with life and love — and we have certainly earned our stripes.
We have lived enough life to feel frustrated by the rough rolls of the cosmic dice.
But even after the hardest months of our marriage, we still find ourselves in a moment, almost every day, where we can embrace and whisper, “It’s a good life.”

And that — that enduring whisper — is a gift.
This is not just our slogan, but our shibboleth — the watchword for the life we have dreamed about.
It’s our daily renewal of our vows, and the way that we honor the gifts our union has given us.

So today, my love, I want to celebrate it.
I want to celebrate us and what we've created together.
And I want us always to remember:
No matter what happens, no matter what we face, it’s a good life.