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8 Years

8 Years


This is the song the Fly sang to me right before he proposed in front of about 100 of our closest friends... [audio]



I will never forget the glow.  It wasn’t just that of a bride and groom.  It was the sun.  We watched it fall slowly and deeply as it gently dipped itself behind the water.  They took our pictures with real film.  We got married the year that seemed to be the last year there were photographers that still used real film.  By the following summer it was a prehistoric concept.  I actually have the negatives of all my wedding photos.


8 years.

We will be married 8 years tomorrow.


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There are so many things I can tell you about my husband.  If you’ve walked this journey with us or even have read my words since I starting writing you may know a few things.

I call him Fly.  Some of you know why.  It’s a funny story.  But one that is just for us and the few we felt we have had to explain it to.

I also call him George.  I made him watch Father of the Bride almost every night while we were dating.  The day would be ending, he would be at my house or apartment.  We would settle into the couch for a movie.  And, honestly, 5 out of 7 nights it was FOTB.  I thought it might persuade him to move a little faster with a proposal.  Instead it just solidified the George Banks tendencies that were already there.  So, now I call him George...and he calls me George too.  I know.  We are weird.  It’s okay.

Since I began blogging I have shared some of the things I love most about him.

6 years and counting

Can't Help Lovin' Dat Man

Dad Rocks

This year I have learned something very important though.  Something that has solidified and unified us.

We are better together than apart.

Kevin said these words the day he joined us together.  The day we participated in the sacred mystery. I have held tightly to these words.  When storms are raging and words are hurting and emotions are high and sleep is deprived I come back to them.


Is it really true?  Are we better together than apart?

Without sounding cheesy...although, I do love me some cheese...I really truly believe with my gut that it is true.

The last two years have been really hard.  The hardest we have faced yet.  And, tonight as I sit and I think about the total sum of 8 crazy years tacked on to the first four we spent hand in hand, I am amazed.

We’ve been broken but are being rebuilt.

We have hurt deeply.  From others and each other and we are healing.

We have failed and have learned the truth about grace.

We have misunderstood and misinterpreted and have missed the mark but it seems that we always come back to this mission statement of our marriage.

Better together than apart.

Better for our kids together than apart.

Better for each other together than apart.

Better for His Kingdom together than apart.

As we celebrate 8 years I am thankful for: A weekend away and the new dress he bought me that Saturday; A fight that sparked deep reflections in my soul; silent support as I ate fruits and veggies for 21 days seeking God and His plan; birthday months; a new computer so I can write in style; countless Starbucks runs; daddy moments my eyes caught that melted my heart; A last minute Carrie Underwood concert; honest words that were hard to hear but needed to be said; efforts at listening and hearing me; new guitars and a rekindled passion for music that has affected our whole little unit; talks about the future; date nights; the pool at Disneyland; good friends; new friends; family; a short conversation in the car in Yosemite; my running shoes and the, “6 miles today, babe!” he gave me before heading to work on Monday.

I love this man.

I am excited for the new season 8 years will bring.  In it I want to love like Christ more.  I want to be humble and sacrificial.  I want to be more real and honest even when it’s hard.  I want to be joyful and I want to laugh really hard.  I want to serve the body of Christ together.  I want to serve our neighbors, friends and the world together.  I want to walk side by side with my Fly this year.

Because I really believe we are better together.

Happy Anniversary, “George.”

I love you like crazy.



Dear 13-year-old Self

Broken Hearts

Broken Hearts