Fireworks at 40

In less than twenty-four hours I was able to celebrate two amazing moments. One with fireworks and one without.

I've never been a big fan of weddings. My own being the only exception. Last night my wife took me to a friends wedding. It really was a beautiful wedding. I'm not sure if that's because the food was good or the ceremony was short. Aaron and Sarah really did make a beautiful couple. I sat there in that moment with my daughter in my lap and my wife seated next to me. In those moments, I love to be a husband but I'm terrified to be a dad.

Then came the fireworks. The light of the fireworks sent a beautiful glow over our seats. I sat back and watched my wife again as she held my daughter tight. These are great times. Aaron and Sarah celebrated their first night with fireworks. It was a beautiful night.

Today held no fireworks. In fact, there wasn't even a sparkler. If it wasn't for my wife the moment might have been missed. A simple cookie that said "Happy 40th Anniversary" marked the occasion and moved this moment from ordinary to extraordinary. My in-laws have been married for 40 years. That takes a moment to sink in. 40 years is a marker. 40 years is a legacy. 40 years is an inspiration. 40 years demands respect. 40 years deserves some fireworks.

So night number one gets fireworks and 40 years gets a cookie. Seems a little backward if you ask me.

I know this...when I hit 40 years of marriage...I'm getting fireworks. I want the kind that make the neighbors run out of their houses with lawn chairs in hand. I want the kind of fireworks that make my friends wonder just how much I spent. I want husbands all around the street to glare at me for the standard that just got set. I want to have fireworks. I want fireworks to celebrate the most amazing woman in my life. Fireworks to thank her for the simple moments when she makes us coffee and brings it to me when I get out of the shower. Fireworks for the time she laughed at my jokes. Fireworks for the moments that I won't write. Fireworks to commemorate every fight that we outlived and every debt we paid off. Fireworks to tell cancer a couple of choice words. I want fireworks that glow bright and make her gray hair sparkle. At 40, I want to sit next to my bride on a blanket in the grass and I want to hold her hand. I want fireworks that scream I love you.

If the Lord allows, ...I want fireworks at 40.