An Open Letter To My Husband On Our 10 Year Anniversary

Can you picture us there, my love?

10 years ago today.

We were just kids, sitting in that movie theater.
I was 15, and I thought that this long haired boy with a car and a tan was the greatest thing I would ever lay my eyes on.

I was wrong.

Only because - I did not know then, the man I would later see him become as we grew together.

-

You made two wrong turns on the way to the theater that night.
The theater you had driven to a thousand times.
I guess that is the kind of nerves that hit a kid,
driving his future wife to their very first date.


Who knew.


Looking back on those kids now, today, its hard to believe that was us.


When our biggest worry was if the teacher would see us texting each other under our desks at school and take our phones away..
Or if your parents would figure out the real reason our car battery had died in that parking lot...


We made mistakes. We had adventures. And we watched, day by day, as it become more and more clear to us that this was forever.


I remember, so vividly, the moment of sitting together on my parents couch, in their living room - just 6 months in to this journey. At 16 years old I looked at you with excitement and fear as we talked about this course our lives were on.

As we told each other that we both knew with absolute certainty that this was it.

There was no more searching or dating that needed to be done.

We knew forever was me and you.

And as we made that realization, we asked each other flat out - are you sure?

We are still so young.

This means we will never be with anyone else, but each other, for our whole lives - if we keep this course.

Are we sure?

Completely.


And in that moment, I think I understood for the very first time the full extent of what love is.

That love is so much more than just a feeling.
That love is every bit a choice.

Love, is the decision to wake up each day and to say hey -
I know that continuing this course with you means bills, and moves, and changes, and struggles, and joys, and obstacles, and life.

Continuing with you - means tackling it all together - and I choose it.

It means that whatever the cost may be, that I decide each day that paying it with you is better than any other alternative.

You, are better than any other alternative.

Because ultimately, marital love was designed to reflect our Savior.
It's purpose, to provide the smallest possible picture of His love for us.
That He has chosen to want each of us, no matter the cost.
That He has decided that even in our flaws and brokenness, that relationship with his beloved, his bride, is better than any other alternative.


I want you to know, without question, the incredible leader that you are in this journey together.


As we pass through the highs and the lows, the picture that you paint for me of the way Christ loves His church is absolutely beautiful. Thank you for that.

Thank you for following His call when we heard Him say "Go", and as He led us into your career, and these moves, and different states, and new friends.
Thank you for figuring out finances with me, even when its tight, and for constantly using that to remind me of priorities.
Thank you for walking with me through the heartache of infertility, and reminding me in the midst of it that you still want me, even when I feel unworthy.
Thank you for making me laugh in the hard times, when all I have wanted to do is cry.
Thank you for wrapping me in your strong arms and pulling me close and allowing me to feel so secure.
Thank you for constantly being an example to me of putting others first and caring for their needs above my own.


But most of all, thank you, for pointing me to our Savior.


Thank you for praying for me.
Thank you for the moments when I couldn't quite feel Him,
and you held me and told me it was okay.

And you waited patiently for me to once again see His hand in our crazy lives.

There was a moment, a couple of months ago, when you told me that you had heard it said,
the greatest honor in life, is to take care of someone who once took care of you.

This life with you is an honor, Brandon.

One where we are constantly taking care of each other through the inexplicable highs and lows, all the while, being more ultimately taken care of by a beautifully good God.

 -

I love our journey.
I love our story.
I love every part of the past 10 years that has brought us from
those kids we once were, to these lovers we currently are.

 -

I have a phrase, as you know, that I say to you frequently;
I marry you everyday.

In the craziness of life, it is natural for romance to get lost.
It is easy for priorities to become shifted.
It is simple to forget the kids we once were,
the God who has led us and grown us,
and to instead focus on the events of now.

But I want you to know that I will always be that girl,
looking at my boy,
and seeing the greatest thing I could ever lay my eyes on.

I want you to know that I will always be your bride,
standing beside you,
and pledging my love and my faithfulness to you.

I want you to know that each day,
as we wake up, and life is so much the same,
but also so different,
I am daily choosing this committed love that we have so intentionally and so divinely built together.



I marry you, everyday.



I love you, Brandon.
I am crazy about you, 10 years in, more than ever.
I still get butterflies waiting for you to come home.
I still get a thrill from your embrace.
I still crave your kisses.
I still get excited by your touch.

10 years in, I admire you, I respect you, I want you, I enjoy you, 



I marry you, everyday.



Happy 10, my love.
Here's to the rest of our lives.
-

Embracing Turbulence

Brandon and I recently caught a last minute flight to Florida. The circumstances were somber, the trip was unplanned, and the weight that it carried was heavy on our hearts. I am not a fan of flying, even under the best of conditions.  For this trip though, my heart was in my stomach through the entire duration of the flight – and all throughout I bore sweaty palms and nervous twitches that had less to do with the flight itself, and more to do with the happenstances that had put us on this aircraft.

As we took our anti-reclining assigned seats in 19E and 19F, on this plane full of noise and strangers and stories, I wanted nothing more than to retreat from the chaos and feel some ounce of peace and calm and rest.

The gentleman seated in 19D next to Brandon, however, wanted nothing more than to share his entire life story with us – complete with photographs and background stories and jokes and examples and everything he could think of to share. It was endearing, and had my heart been fully present I would have jumped more readily at the opportunity to share love with an eager stranger who chose to allow a couple on a plane into so much of his own story.

In these moments though, it was all I could do to squeeze out a faked laugh, slap on a smile, and interject a word here or there that made it sounds as though I was intently listening.

As the 3-hour flight drew to a close, the fasten seat-belts sign came on and we were told to prepare for some amount of turbulence in the landing.  The weather in Florida was stormy and gusty and, ironically, mimicking almost perfectly the conditions that my soul was experiencing as a result of the accumulation of events taking place the past several months.

Immediately, before even experiencing the first bump or the first ear pop or the first stomach flip, I began to tremble. Fear had totally engulfed me.  And not fear that we wouldn’t land safely, but more-so fear of the turbulence we were about to experience.

As I tried to remember what it feels like to inhale and exhale, I took a moment to pay attention to the people surrounding me who had been informed of the very same turbulence.  Rather than concerned looks or white knuckles clenching their seats - I observed casual conversation, laughter, snacks, and naps. It was as though this awareness of bumps ahead proved of no consequence to them. That they were able to anticipate that things may feel momentarily rough, but it would be temporary and they would then be on with the rest of their life. They seemed to grasp the concept that life keeps moving forward.  And on the other side, you will catch a likely turbulent venture back to where you started from.

Seeing this should have reminded me of truth. Instead, my breathing became even more shallow, my hands sitting clenched on my lap were soaking sweat straight through my leggings, and in that moment, I had zero focus.  Zero reality.  Only fear.  Only discomfort.

As the plane landed and our good friend 19D glanced in my direction, he made a lighthearted joke about fear of flying.  I tried to respond as if I were a normal human being, but my heart had simply overflown in that moment.  And rather than attributing my lack of calm to some fear of flying, I got tears in my eyes and barely muttered out to him –
we are flying home because our grandpa has died.  We need to be with family. I’m just not in a good place for this kind of turbulence. I’m not okay today.

With that, this poor & friendly man looked at me with shock and concern as he apologized for our loss.  Brandon’s hand gripped mine tightly as he brushed my hair back, kissed me on the forehead, and gave me a look that told me that I was loved and valued despite my breakdown – that even in my messiest of moments he knew my heart and it was alright for me to not be okay for that time.

He was with me.

Not just physically next to me, but truly there in the midst of life swirling around us – with me.

This imagery, this beautiful and difficult picture of experiencing turbulence in life while simultaneously processing and sorting through yesterday’s trials... This vision of bracing for bumps ahead and preparing your stomach for unsettling feelings, even as it is still recovering from the last twist it endured… This idea of being so involved in the healing of my own heart, that my true intention is taken away from the 19D’ers of this life and focused so squarely on my own self…

But man. This grace, that in all of this – there is love. That my hand is so tightly gripped not only by my incredible husband, but - more beautifully and more importantly - by my incredible God.

This is the scenario that has been playing through my mind, as life has been taking some unexpected turns. This is the scene that gets reenacted as I sort through what God is doing in this season of our lives. How these elements that have shaped Brandon and I’s journey this past year – these pieces of transition, and infertility, and injury, and job change, and our church change, and then sickness and a very turbulent 2015 – led me to a place of saying, “Okay, well that didn’t feel very good. 2016 won’t be this way. I won’t let it toss me around like that. This is the year for stability.”

I am learning, slowly, that there is never a year for stability. Never a month. Or a week. Or a day. Or even an hour necessarily. Life is unstable, and constantly changing.  And if our prominent goal is for everything to feel as though we are strong and determined and steady and fearless – then goodness, we are in for a bumpy ride. That pedestal we are setting ourselves on is a perfect platform for us to fall right off, and land right on our behinds. There will always be opportunity for us to be weakened. Our determination can always waver. Nothing on this earth is promised or guaranteed to us 100%.  And every single one of us will experience fear in the midst of this crazy journey.

There is only one. There is just one thing that is constant. In the epitome of highs and lows and the broad range of experiences life brings, my soul craves the only certainty. A faithful God. A God who sits between us and the world as we panic through the bumps and who holds our hand, and brushes our hair back, and is with us.

If my imperfect, human husband can love me with such fervency, how much deeper and greater and more intimately can my eternal God love me in my mess?  If Brandon can understand the turmoil I feel at times, how much more can this God know every ounce of my mind and heart and soul? If this gift I have been given of a partner on this earth can stand by my side through beauty and through ashes, how much more can I rely on my Savior, my King, to never leave me and never abandon me no matter the cost.

This love.

Stronger than the most turbulent winds.

Recently, Brandon and I bought a house here in Colorado. We planned to be in Colorado for years to come, and decided it was a good time to once again invest in a house to call our own. So, we chose one.  We loved it. We began dreaming, planning, picking out projects to personalize it.  The whole time I kept telling Brandon that somewhere in my extreme excitement, it didn’t feel like it was going to be our home. We wrote it off as a symptom of all the chaos going on and moved forward. We had it inspected, appraised, the whole home buying experience.

 On January 29^th we closed and at 10AM the house became “ours”. 

 Two hours later, at noon, we received an email that Brandon had been selected for an assignment, we were moving.

We were in shock. 

How were we supposed to move when we had just bought a home in Colorado? How were we supposed to leave these friends and this life we have here?

I will probably never in my whole life forget the raw honest emotion flooding us in that moment as Brandon prepared to head to work and find out where our mystery assignment was.  He tied his shoe laces, grabbed his jacket, walked over and hugged me, and whispered…
” God knows what He is doing, right?”.
And we just stood there.
Frozen in the in-between space that is found when everything in your heart KNOWS that God is good and that He is working in your situation – but your mind is still screaming out a million questions and fears and what ifs.  It’s a weird place to be in. On the one hand, I know we could never be in any better place than where He wants us to be, but the timing didn’t make sense.
His plan didn’t make sense.
This whole situation didn’t make sense.

There was no ability to turn around and sell this house after two hours of ownership, and our move into it was scheduled for the very next day.  After about 15 minutes that felt like 15 years, Brandon called me with the news that he had learned the location of our assignment –

Charlottesville, VA

And in that moment, our next adventure began. As our heads felt dizzy with the weight of what we had just so suddenly learned, my heart felt jolted with complete joy and intense peace that this was exactly where we needed to go. There is purpose in these switchbacks. As I wrestled with the questions surrounding the coming months, there was one question I could not debate.
“God knows what He is doing, right?”
Absolutely.  Do I believe that? Yes. With my entire being. Do I feel that? No, not always and especially not much lately. Do I understand it? I don't.  Not yet. I don’t know if we ever will.
But what I do understand is that it was in these moments, as so many other things were competing for my heart, I could feel nothing but eager anticipation for whatever incredible things He has in store for us in Virginia.

Over the last several days I have been mulling over the thought that in every turbulence we have the choice to continue on or to be overtaken.  Far too often, I allow my anxious heart to be overcome by fear.

I want to live life in a way that my plane can be doing barrel rolls, and I am having a drink and sitting with my husband telling 19D that Jesus is amazing, and that this life He is walking with us is good. I want to be so focused on my unchanging Savior, that in the bumpiest part of life I can feel steady as I am anchored to Him.

I want to embrace the turbulence; knowing that He will land the plane and I will move forward with my journey. I will go through cycles of feet on the ground clarity, and head in the clouds chaos – and through both my purpose will not change.  I will live in whatever state He places me. Give up whatever material items He requires of me. Leave behind whatever I had falsely defined as my “home”, in order to pursue His leading and eternal glory.

He is good, all the time. All the time, He is good.