Thankful for the chance to start over.
First time I had sex, I was raped.
First marriage failed.
First gymnastics meet, I dislocated my elbow.
First job in my field, teaching English, was perhaps the worst job I’ve ever had in my life.
Clearly, my track record of firsts isn’t necessarily full of gold star stickers and smiley faces.
That’s just not been my life experience.
Until I met my husband. I’m not sure, but I suspect that God has anointed him with an innate sense of what I need and the uncanny ability to meet my needs without my saying a word.
When I met him, things changed.
In reality, I think my perspective simply switched gears, probably thanks to three years in my twelve-step recovery program. I started noticing every first in our relationship, and I’d never done that before. I began to cherish all our moments.
First time we…
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