My mom always said I couldn’t get married until I was 25. It was just one of her rules.
And rules are meant to be broken, right?
I got engaged at age 22 and married at 23. I had only been 23 for seven days, actually. (Don’t worry, my parents were thrilled to see us get married, and they gave Eric their blessing when he asked for their permission to propose.)
We had a lovely fall wedding and went on a magical honeymoon. It seemed like happily ever after.
But I was young.
And I had no idea the amount of work that was required for having a great (not good) marriage.
I never thought marriage would or should be work. Eric is the love of my life, and God brought us together, so I just thought it was going to magically work out.
Happily ever after, right?
Because of my naivety, we spent two years being married and me NOT thinking we needed to work at it, and Eric trying so hard to work at it.
The tension grew and grew until I finally
woke up grew up and realized that our marriage wasn’t great and it wasn’t going to be unless we did work at it. Together.
So, over the past couple years, we’ve worked hard at making our marriage great. It’s been so worth it.
And guess what? I grew up right around my 25th birthday.
Those moms…how do they get so smart?