Ode to 18-Years of Marriage

April 17, 2022

 

My Dearest Ray,

Happy 18-years of Marriage!

Moments ago, you returned home from taking Sam, another dad, and two of his friends on college visits this past week to the Chicago land area.

Just in time, you jumped back in the van to buy groceries for the new week, and to get Kate to the Comicon conference downtown to present the costume she's been designing, sewing, and 3-D printing for over a year.

But not before you made sure that Claire had poster board, markers, and supplies needed to complete her science project on the sun.

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This is our life.  And you, are at the center, in every detail, joyfully.

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It's hard to believe that 18-years ago, we took such a leap of faith and said, "I do." How could we have known what we were saying yes to?  Almost two decades later, it looks like--infinite car rides to and from three schools, boy scouts, ballet, taekwondo, piano lessons, cross country and speech meets, volleyball practices/games, Target/Costco runs, lunch packing, test studying, paper editing, fight referring, hair cut/physical/dentist scheduling, braces tightening, retainer losing, eye glass/contacts prescription changing, early morning alarm ringing, carpool arranging, last minute, "Dad, I forgot" scrambling and everything in between.

And through the mayhem and busyness, you have said yes to me.

Yes to the countless times, when I've asked, "Will it be okay?," watching our teenager drive away, seeing our little girl start high school, recovering from yucky words with our feisty fifth grader, or jumping out into the world and starting my own business.

Yes to my need for control and my desire to have things look a certain way, realizing that it's okay to acquiesce when you love another.

Yes to my talking things to death, and my need to process every feeling (again and again), especially when it comes to the hopes/concerns for our children.

Yes to reworking your schedule to pick up one kid and take another to a thing-which forces you to bring work home and reconfigure your tasks-because you know it will ease my burden.

Yes to making dinner every night-because it doesn't stress you out, and you're just better at it.

Yes to being the last one awake in the house so you can make sure every kid light is out, run the dishwasher, put things away, and ensure we're ready for the morning.

Yes to holding my uncertainty with a strong sense of faith that reminds me of how far we've come and the promise that God holds for our future.

Yes to the practice of your faith, and the model of that for our children.

Yes to the continual invitation to run slowly, because you'd rather round the bends with me as your partner than to go it solo.

Yes to listening to me complain about my weight, and still picking up Dairy Queen when I text at night asking to grab a blizzard on your way home from picking up a kid.

Yes to walking me down from the ledge when I think it's a good idea to visit our son monthly in college (I'm still working on accepting that this is an insane idea).

Yes to giving me space, reminding me that I'm beautiful, assuring me that I'm right where I'm supposed to be, and encouraging me that this too shall pass.

There's just so much, and honestly, words are insufficient.

You are not Jesus, but on this Easter day, you remind me of the rising--the deep belief that love is so much more than we can possibly know on the day we say yes at the altar.  It is rising continuously to the calling of saying yes to the person we chose and who chose us-even when it is the same over and over again.  It is holding steady to the belief that if we keep showing up, keep doing the work imperfectly, and keep intentionally saying yes, we will carve out a life--an honest, real, beautiful thing that gets better with each year, because we believed in the capacity of each other, and ultimately, of ourselves.

Thank you for saying yes to me and to us.  Sam, Kate, Claire and I are the luckiest because you keep heeding the call.

Happy, Happy 18-years, my love.

I pray that we get many, many more.

All my love,

Kelly