The Number of Perfection :: 7

There are many things I have jotted down and stored away, either in my head where only I can see it, or on paper so I don’t forget…things to share here with all of you, things to keep inside, things I only feel vulnerable enough to share with a few.  It’s a real madhouse in my brain/soul/body these days!  Today, though, TODAY I share of seven perfectly imperfect years of marriage with my one true love.  Happy Anniversary, Glenny… five days late.


Seven years ago you promised… to have and to hold.

I don’t really know what “to have” means. Maybe just that I am yours and you are mine. That no one else will do. That having me as your wife  and you as my husband is, as long as we live, God’s way of showing us how we are His. To have.

My understanding of “to hold” grows each year as I grow in my love and respect for you. A tight squeeze of the hand. A wink from across the room. A kiss hello every morning, and goodbye every night. A protective arm holding our precious baby. An embrace of comfort when there is more sorrow than my body can contain. To hold.

Seven years ago you promised…for better, for worse.

Everyone in the world will roll their eyes, but life with you is always for better.  You work hard. You refuse to be mediocre. You choose wisely. Sometimes, when I am tired, when I am wounded, when I want to be a victim… you remind me of the better. Of my choices. Of my opportunities. Of the fun, the rainbows, the treasure, the real reward that awaits after the storm. You remind me that it is all for better, because we have a tradition of better.

I am skipping over for worse. You know  how I feel about naysayers, negative nancy’s, and those doomsday prophets. Get out of my face, people. I want none of your nastiness. {hashtag anger.}

Seven years ago you promised…for richer, for poorer.

Someone dear recently talked about Proverbs 31 and it brought new light to that passage. Remember when you grabbed my hand and read that to me? Ever the romantic, my beloved husband.  When my friend was talking about Proverbs 31, she specifically mentioned the part about “laughing at the days to come.” I loved this.

She laughs at the days to come. For she is wise with what she is given, she has used her resources to care for her family, she does all in her power to support and be a good steward of the income her husband brings in.

I am still learning about financial wisdom, about what stewardship looks like for our family, about how to best support you and invest our income. Thank you for trusting me as you do. For giving me freedom. For loving my cooking. For richer, for poorer.

Seven years ago you promised…in sickness, and in health.

Oh how I wish sickness were not part of our story. My heart is still so broken, so fragile, so sad over giving birth to a sick little boy. But we did it. I don’t know how. My mind still reels. But we did. You held him when I was scared. You told me I was doing a good job. You protected us, your family, with everything in you. I know God is pleased. There is no one on this earth who holds me as tenderly as you do…in sickness and in health.

Glenn, you do such a great job at loving and cherishing.  You are, quite frankly, the absolute best. I love you.


You Chose Me: Re-post for the My Husband Rocks! Contest

I originally posted this a few months ago as an anniversary note to Glenn, and am re-posting it today for the My Husband Rocks! Contest. Hope you enjoy reading {or re-reading} it!

To my better half.

When I was 16 years old, sitting on a log at Hume Lake, with my favorite person beside me. I thought we were getting together to talk about all that had transpired the past week at camp. I thought you were interested in someone else. I was awe-struck by the morning stars. You grabbed my hand and sent my heart into flutters. You chose me.

When I was on the other side of the world, eating whole baguettes and sipping Coca-Cola at trendy cafes. I watched the world around me and wished you were there to share in these memories. You gave up time with loved ones at home to call my payphone and keep us connected. You told me what a good job I was doing with my daily attempts at running. You trusted my directions in a land where no one spoke your language. You met me at the bus-stop. You chose me.

As I wrestled with worries of the future, you stood back and knew this was something only God could change in me. You encouraged wisdom and patience while the rest of the world questioned your loyalty. You knew what was right and stuck to it, waiting for me to let go on my own. In the silence and waiting, you chose me.

After a miserable test, a failed dinner party, expensive sunglasses, and a long nap, you told me to wear my new dress. You picked me up in your little car. We drove far away, to my favorite place. We sat by the fire and I sipped a martini. We watched award-winning chefs work their magic. I told you it was perfect. Fireworks lit up the sky, we rode my favorite ride. You proclaimed your love, as I told you it was inappropriate. You knocked me off my feet with diamonds and a promise of forever. You chose me.

I was shaky and nauseous, gripping my Dad’s arm like it was my only chance of survival. You told me I was pretty. You held my hands. You vowed to share everything with me, until the end of time. We danced the night away. I cried and laughed at the great love of our God, our family, our friends. You took me to Hawaii. You chose me.

This life is such a crazy adventure. You make it better than I ever could have dreamed. Happy Anniversary. I’m so glad you chose me.