The 12th anniversary doesn't get much shine as far as special occasions go; bigger, rounder numbers tend to usurp its significance. For me, though, June 19, 2015 represents the power of transformation. One short year ago, I was a completely different person than the one currently typing these words. One short year ago, I was a whiny, complaining, insufferable mess, whose life consisted of alternating between flailing and treading water while complaining about why my life wasn't progressing at the desired speed.
Then, midway through Holiday Season 2014, about a week before my birthday, the trap door of my existence opened up and down I fell. It was the most terrifying, excruciating experience I've ever had.
It was also the best thing that ever happened to me and may very well have saved my relationship.
See, a funny thing happened when I journeyed to hell and lived to tell about it: I found myself unashamedly addicted to truth and light and love and honesty and joy (and a raging intolerance of haters, manipulators, and all-around douche-canoes). I don't want to take a single thing for granted, especially the person who stood next to me, held my hand, and waltzed through the flames. This process has revealed my capacity to love harder and more fiercely than I ever thought possible, and I am blessed to receive that affection in return. It was not a given that we'd grow toward each other rather than apart, but I'm endlessly grateful for it.
So, yeah, #12 represents so much more than chronology. It marks the turning point in our marriage. I don't know what lies ahead, but there is no one on earth I'd rather have by my side.
So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate. Matthew 19:6 (NIV)