Today marks my parents’ forty-sixth wedding anniversary.

That’s quite an accomplishment, and I’m awfully proud of them. In a day and age when most marriages fall by the wayside before the first seven years are up, they’ve stuck it out through the better and the worse and the richer and the poorer.

And that’s even more of an accomplishment for the two of them, because they’re no picnic to live with. I know!

I’m just kidding about that not really. But I do know that marriage is hard, under the best of circumstances, and to last a lifetime together is an admirable thing.

They raised their three daughters in church and made sure we learned Bible verses and passages and hymns that are still in my head today. They invested all they could in my older sister, who has Cerebral Palsy, and worked tirelessly to help her reach her fullest potential. They worked hard and lived frugally, and taught us the value of saving money and the sin of being in debt. They made sure we had all we needed and most of what we wanted. They made sure we had dance lessons and ate our vegetables and went to family reunions and provided for our college educations, and because of the foundation they provided for our lives, I’m better off today.

Most importantly, I’m grateful that no matter what happens, I can count on my parents to be there. When my life was falling apart, they were there. Stable. Predictable.

And I’m thankful for that, more than they can possibly know.