seven.

word of the day: seven \ˈse-vən\ a number that is one more than six.

Since Jake and I got married seven years ago, I have this ongoing game that I play called "Is there anything Jake can't do?"  The answer is (and I've watched him do a lot of things over the years) no.  It really is.  Ask our closest friends; they'll back me up.  I am fully convinced that there is nothing Jake can't do.  Sure, he comes up against his fair share of weaknesses (parking lot navigation, social media outlets, and sports trivia to name a few), but given time, he will rise to the occasion every time.  

Jake, the hem ripped out of these shorts, can you sew them for me?  Your iPhone screen shattered, and you really think you can fix it yourself? My bridesmaid dress is still too big; can you take it in for me? You actually think you can cut down that tree in our front yard by yourself? Can you put Lily's hair in a ponytail? Can you cut my bangs for me? Can you build me a table? Some shelves? A vanity? A janky trailer to transport our stuff to Cleveland (twice)?  

The answer to all those questions (all real life scenarios) was yes.  In fact, in this moment, I literally can't think of a single thing he has not been able to do in our seven years of marriage.

Being married to Jake is easy because he can do everything for me.  

The end.  Happy Anniversary to us.  #sorrygirlsigotthebestone

But (here I go again), if I were to be really honest, I would tell you that sometimes it's easy for me to feel like I'm not needed. Like the balance isn't equally weighted in our marriage. That there's nothing I do for Jake that he can't do for himself.

I know it's a lie, of course (lest you feel the need to tell me all the things I equally do for him. I know he would eat ramen noodles every single day if I weren't around, ok?).

Jake would absolutely be the first to tell you how much he needs me; I know that.  And, I know that our marriage is one that is built on partnership and balance and a commitment we made before God that won't be broken.
  
But I also know how easily lies creep in, and that if I'm not ready to defend and name them, they'll stick in my brain or, worse, my heart.  

And so, this anniversary, in addition to gratefully thinking about all the things Jake does for me (see also: paints toenails when I was too pregnant to reach and makes phone calls when my weird phone phobia kicks in), I can't help but think about how important it is for me to continue to fight for my marriage daily.  To name the lies and replace them with truth.  To be patient and kind and to communicate in those moments I begin to listen to something that's untrue.  

But, here's the seventh anniversary truth: Marrying Jake was the best decision I ever made, and even more truthfully, the best decision I keep making every single day I decide to work at it.