Ode to 20-Years of Marriage

 

April 17, 2024

My Dearest Ray,

We did it!  Here we stand holding two decades of marriage.

So much life has transpired in these years together.  So much goodness...so much hard...so much beautiful...and so much sorrow.

We woke up this morning and after getting the girls to school, went on a long walk.  Traipsing through our local college campus, we shared how crazy it was that five-hours away on another college campus, our oldest was walking by people who could be his parents' age.

How did we get here?  How are we inches away from 50?  How do we have a college freshman, a junior in high school and a 7th-grader?  How do we own a business and have life insurance?  And how have we graduated to a space where we schedule annual skin checks, colonoscopies, mammograms, and get labs drawn for hormone imbalance?

In so many ways, life has shifted and in so many ways, it has not.  You're still you.  Steady. Kind. Funny. Super smart.  Incredibly available, and always loving.  And in other ways, you're not.  You're less defensive, slower to anger, quicker to say I'm sorry, and more willing to extend compassion than in our early years.

Every morning, you still do 100 push-ups, pray on your knees, head to the gym, listen to the bible while unloading the dishwasher and making Claire's lunch, volunteer for activities at the school, and text regularly throughout the day.  You're the first to share your NY Times game scores in the family chat, the first to remind me of a cool concert or play we should take the kids to, and the first to read me an article in the paper or to tell me about a new trend that is bonkers.

You're also the first to support my doubts and imposter syndrome fears and the only one I want to get to when I feel out of my depth.  You are my biggest cheerleader, my fiercest champion, and the one who reminds me that I can climb the next hill and that I'm doing a damn good job.  You are insanely loyal and know that a strong cup of Bialetti coupled with mounds of sushi and infinite milk chocolate is the portal to my heart.  You never make me feel badly when I fall asleep by 10pm and when I wake up replaying the same anxieties that I went to sleep sharing.  

And when it comes to being the father of our children--there are really no words.  You are their person.  Between movies, music, driving, board and video games, concerts, baking, sewing, drawing, designing, and loving unconditionally--you are the person they want to spend their time with, always.

I've had pictures of Italy on my vision board since college--a dream of drinking espresso, sipping wine, hiking, riding trains, experiencing art, writing in cafes, indulging in gelato, and falling in love all over again in canals--and it looks like (through your persistence and hope) that my dream will come true this fall.  I can't wait to celebrate our love in another country honoring how far we've come--because one day, 20-years ago, we said, I do to all of it.  We couldn't have known then, and we can't know now all that God has in store, but I pray that through all of it, that we will endure in the joy and the pain together.  I can't imagine any of it without you.

I love you...I love you more...I love you most...You do?...I do.

Love, Kelly

Ode to Sam on Your 19th Birthday

February 8, 2024

My Dearest Sam,

Happy, Happy 19th Birthday!

Congratulations--you've officially reached the age of majority in the state of Nebraska!

How did it happen?  How did you become an adult--complete with a beard, a credit card, a job, college classes, the ability to vote and to engage in the way you wish to in the world?!  It's so remarkable to me.

Every time you come home from college and we talk about philosophers, the economy, relationships, career paths, extracurricular choices, money in the bank and what fosters a good life--I am blown away that I get to be your mom.

You are one of my favorite people in the world.  And while I didn't think I could bear being away from you when we dropped you off at school, now, five months later, I realize how beautiful the journey of growing up truly is.

There are so many things that I love about who you are in the world.  I love that the only criteria you were firm about regarding college was leaving the state of Nebraska and having an adventure somewhere else.  I love that you dove head first into meeting new people, trying new courses, washing your duvet cover with regularity, and communicating with me--while simultaneously helping me to honor the boundary of that frequency.

I love that you are still so kind.  Independence, freedom and a life away from home has not made you a jerk.  If anything, you seem to really appreciate Omaha and the goodness that emanates from your home town.

I love that you still have such a hunger for learning and creating.  Watching you dive into religious and philosophical texts that I read in undergrad coupled with taking a stab at collegiate studio art has been so amazing.  

I love that you ask your sisters about student council, theater, costume design, speech club, and crocheting.  I love that you engage our extended family and share stories about your experiences away, and thank them regularly for their support and encouragement.

I love that you are so gosh darn frugal.  I try to give you new things and you always say, save your money, I'm just fine.  You'd rather thrift, repurpose, and wait until a film comes to a streaming service before spending unnecessarily.   I think you got that from your dad and not from me.

I love that you're choosing really good, interesting people to share your time with, and that you ask good questions about their families, interests, and what makes them tick.

I love that you're humble and simple and loving.

And as you keep making your way in this world, trying to figure out what job you think you'll have, or who you're gonna love, or where you should live, or what you should major in, or who to invest time in--remember that every answer you need lives inside of you.  Continue to trust your gut.  Believe that who you are is enough.

If there's anything I've learned in almost 50 years it is that happiness has very little to do with your street address or paycheck.  It has everything to do with how comfortable you feel in your own skin when nobody's looking, who you love, and who helps to support you, and the ways you serve and lift others up in the world.  And with that, there are a million possibilities for how it can all unfold.

Man, how lucky I am to be on this journey watching you from afar.  Thank you for the gift of being your mom.  May you know everyday, always, how much you are deeply loved.

 I love you, Mom