Three years ago today I received what I think of as a rebirth certificate. We had a nice ceremony. There was food, music, a gathering of witnesses and celebrants, poetry, prayer, some hip ritual, other assorted words etc. Jonathan Reuel actually wrote an awesome song for us that borrowed from one of my all-time favorites of his previous songs.

But most of what I remember from that day is how beautiful she looked and how much joy and love she radiated–the woman who had saved my life and was making the commitment to continue pulling me back into the land of the living.

Her middle name actually means “reborn.”

I’ve thought of several ways to try to describe her beauty and her genius and none of them seems adequate. I hope to finish and post them later (another day: I’m typing this on my phone as I wait to testify in court [and now on the train]; I have two major reports to complete before the week is done; and I’m leaving early today so that I can be with my baby). I even have a political take; bet you’re sorry I didn’t go through with that. Take heart, it may still happen. ;-p

I’m blessed with amazing family and friends and I’ve met and received and received prophetic-level truth (which, despite what some of you are thinking, is actually a very good thing; but I digress) from near and absolute strangers. I’m not sure I could have been better loved, supported and encouraged after the loss of my first wife.

But in those months and years after Deb died I experienced an emptiness that I wasn’t sure could ever be filled. We’d been together for 25 years; I just didn’t think it was possible to be as intimate and as in love with anyone as I had been with her.

And it’s not that I was desperate. I despaired, yes, but there’s a difference between despairing and being “desperate.” Ultimately I’m picky.

What’s worse, most people really don’t get me. And imagine if you will what it must be like to have to listen to me babble day-after-day. I’m even worse in person than on Facebook. You probably can’t imagine. Frankly I don’t think most of you have the stomach for regular undiluted doses of me.

To cut to the chase–that one impossible someone appeared. In the words of that corny old song, “I’ll never know just what she sees in me,” but, yeah, she’s convinced me that there’s something.

She’s nothing less than a miracle and a savior. Her perfection and the way that she brings me life and joy–unlocks my inner child and affirms my wildest dreams, restores my hopes and renews my sense of wonder–are among the chief reasons that I still believe in and trust God.

Every value I cherish most and every ideal I aspire to is displayed to me in her smile, given form in her embrace and expressed in her actions.

And it’s only gotten better. I have a good friend who harasses me about still being on the honeymoon. I guess I’m not sure that it needs to stop or why I should believe that whatever might be after the honeymoon should be any less wonderful as long as we’re together.

Thank you, Chrissy, for being who you are. Thank you for choosing me and, every day, with fresh energy, sincerity, exuberance, purity, intensity and generosity, choosing me again.

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