The 13th Year is Over

I’ve never been superstitious. I’ve got no problem walking under the ladder when it’s more convenient than going around. It often makes more sense to open the umbrella indoors so that its protection is already in place before stepping into the rain, and my disdain for cats applies to all shapes and colors—not just the black ones. Recently, however, we realized the reality of a particular superstition in our lives. (I share this, mind you, very tongue-in-cheek.)

A few months ago, as Jon and I were trying to be strong and find humor in the multiple unlucky situations in which we found ourselves, it occurred to me that we were coming up on our thirteenth anniversary. We were most likely involved in a jigsaw puzzle--because that's what we did to help pass those long days of unemployment--when I suddenly declared, “That’s it, Jon! I know why this has been such a difficult year for our family. We’re in our thirteenth year of marriage. It’s that unlucky number thirteen.”

We decided that once June 7th arrived, we’d officially begin our fourteenth year and thus our bad luck would have to come to an end. But this was several months ago and June 7th seemed so far away. Would we really have to endure that much longer?

After several long and trying months, good things have certainly begun to come our way. Though it’s fun to talk about the coincidence of this superstition, we attribute these things to be a direct result of prayer and fasting, not to a number on the calendar.

Our anniversary is a time to reflect on all we’ve experienced in our marriage. Last night over an amazing Italian dinner, we made several “top five” lists. We talked about our top five defining moments (several of which come from the last six months), top five romantic moments, and so on. I am reminded that there’s no one, absolutely no one, I’d rather experience those moments with than the man I married thirteen years ago today. This difficult thirteenth year has made me that much more grateful for the relationship we have with each other.

June 7th, 1996 was without question the most important day of my life and marrying Jon was the best decision I ever made. I’m still not superstitious. An unlucky thirteenth year is nothing more than coincidence. But marrying Jon was anything but. And I’m not ashamed to be sappy.

Happy Anniversary, Honey! Here’s to year 14 and whatever that may bring!

(Did I just say that? Please, oh please let it be a calm one. )