This is the BIG year.

My daughters are up to something-searching in closets and carrying boxes out of the house (they thought I did not see). They have asked me to compile a complete list of people who would want to celebrate with us.

Fifty years? I smile, I cry, I smile again. Fifty years with Tom Suiter. What a treasure we have shared.

I was mulling this over this morning –thinking about beginning another blog called “myjourneyintomarriage” or something more creative. (Maybe I would be more committed to a weekly post.) While mulling I realized an important fact. I have never, ever–never– forgotten that a skinny teenager sporting the popular crew cut of the 60’s actually chose me for his own.

Out of all the girls he might have picked, he chose me. And after 50 years, that one fact still makes me giddy with joy.

Chosen or not . . .

I remember the times as a young school girl–those times when teams were chosen. Remember? And you knew that everyone had to be on one of the teams–no exception. Your hands began to sweat; your heart was beating fast. Would you be chosen first? Or maybe second. The athletic ones, the fast ones, the smart ones, the pretty ones–depending on what sport or activity–were picked without hesitation. Then slowly the rest–those who hung their heads, looked away, pretended not to be bothered– they waited for their name to be called. If you looked closely, you would see it, would feel it– a heavy, dark mist surrounded the waiting ones, forming one large zero.

Reluctantly, sometimes, even begrudgingly, a name was called until all were chosen. But oh, the agony of standing there, in view of all, wondering if you were good enough, smart enough . . .

Then one day. . .

I learned I had been chosen again-a very long time ago and by Someone very important–just because He loved me. One of my favorite verses in the entire Bible is Ephesians l:4. Read it in the Amplified with me: “In His love, He chose me for Himself–actually picked me out for Himself as His own, in Christ before the foundation of the world . . .”

How personal is that? It matters not if I am fast, if I am intelligent, if I am good or pretty . . . I was chosen to be His.

Being chosen as a wife brings joys, but also responsibilities. Chosen to share housework, raise a family, encourage him, admire him, esteem, love–the list is endless. But I was chosen because of love; that’s what I can’t get over.

So it is with being chosen by Christ. I am to be holy, set apart, blameless–bringing Him delight, giving Him honor–chosen because He loved me.

Some things are just too overwhelming to comprehend, too fascinating to be realized, too lovely to be doubted. Being chosen in Christ and for Him and being picked to be Tom Suiter’s wife–I will never get over.