I Still Choose You

It’s the night before what would be my 29th wedding anniversary, and the memories are flooding in, taking me right back to those early days. The night before our wedding, my house was bursting at the seams with family and friends. We hosted the rehearsal dinner, which doubled as a birthday celebration for my grandmother. With ten brothers and sisters, much of her family came in to celebrate her and us, so my house was packed with thirty or forty people—wedding party, family, friends. I think Clay was a bit shocked by just how many came from all over to be with us! Or maybe it was seeing me and my “evil twin” sitting on the floor, giggling like little kids while playing with a toy car that decorated one of the gifts. Looking back, it was beautiful chaos.

That night was special, but it was nothing compared to the next 20 years. I’ve said this before, and it’s just as true today—Clay wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for me. We built a life through the joys and trials that marked our years: raising two boys, building a house, surviving his heart attack, managing a flood from the upstairs bathroom in that same house, and dealing with my brush with death because of an exploded gallbladder and an ovarian tumor. In the ordinary days and the life-shaking ones, we kept choosing each other, right up until the stroke and those 13 hard days that followed. Even then, I never regretted our choice. And to this day, I still choose him.

People ask me all the time why I don’t date, and this is my answer: I still choose Clay. It’s not because it’s “safe” or because I lack options; it’s because no one else could take his place—or, honestly, put up with me! In my heart, I’m still married to him. He is my heart, my breath, my choice. Now, I know there’s a lot of debate about whether we’ll know each other in heaven, but here’s how I see it: we promised “til death do us part,” but as Christians, we don’t really die. So I don’t believe we’re parted, just paused for a while.

I have no issues with other widows dating or remarrying—it’s just not for me. I know that when I reach heaven, the first thing I’ll be doing is looking for Clay. I fully expect him to be waiting to take me to meet Jesus, unless, of course, he’s off fishing and doesn’t get the memo I’m on my way!

This has gone longer than I planned, but tonight, sitting here in the house we built, the memories just keep coming. There’s still that water stain on the kitchen ceiling from the flood years ago, and I haven’t quite made it to that end of the house in my redecorating. But tonight, I’m not in a rush to fix it because it’s one of the memories of the things that make us us. I’m just so grateful that God made us for each other and brought us together that long-ago day in Laredo, TX. Happy anniversary, my love. I love you more than turnips, and I still choose you.