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I love a good book. Sometimes I even skip to the end and read the climax before I peruse the rest of the pages. I know…that breaks the “avid reader” rules, but I can’t help myself. It is my book. My reading experience. My “ending.”

Today was an ending. Maybe the end of a chapter. Perhaps the end of a book. But, an ending nonetheless. I skipped to this climax long ago, and so I knew that it was coming. Still, some of the emotions caught me by surprise.

I didn’t know that tears would fill my eyes as I watched my husband receive his certificate of appreciation from the superintendent. I didn’t know that I would sit in the front seat of our car, kissing him, and wondering that his four years as a teacher were over. Done. Ended.

I’m so proud of him. Besides being incredibly handsome, he is my leader, my best friend, my prayer warrior, my companion. I can’t imagine life without him. And, he is taking a huge leap. For me. For us. For our future family.

He is going back to school full-time. Changing everything to pursue our family’s dream. The dream that includes little kids, little league, and little mama staying home all blessed day long.

I love him. So, so, so much.

The next chapter is just around the corner. However, I can’t skip to the end of this book. No matter how much I want to know this ending before all the middle pages are read, I can’t. It’s not my story to finish. It is our story. God’s story of us. Our family. I think the surprise might be nice.

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