11 years

Saturday my handsome hubby and I celebrated 11 years of marriage. It’s still hard for me to believe these two twenty-year-olds



became these two not twenty-year-olds (just ask my orthaped doc)



I wrote about our “love story” here but what I reflect on the most every year on our anniversary is just how far we’ve come. I distinctly remember being thrilled and unafraid to walk down that aisle 11 years ago because I knew who I was walking towards. So much of our boldness in deciding to get married at a young age was rooted in equal parts faith in each other and naiveté about what marriage even meant.

Now I believe our boldness in continuing to choose each other is rooted in our faith in God and our understanding that almost all a couple can weather together-we have weathered. When you’re on the other side of some of life’s greatest storms and you still look at that person and say, “Yup, it’s still you, it’s always been you.” Well then it’s a little easier to get through the next day and the day thereafter.

Z is not perfect, but the best part about that is he married someone who is about as far from perfect as they come. I think sometimes we want to find someone who balances us out, right? Someone who is good at the things we are not. I agree with that, but sometimes I think it’s more about finding someone who looks at you when all the shit you hide from other people is out and proud and says, “Yeah I can live with that every day.”

I can’t begin to describe what it feels like to walk in my front door every day, shed off my skin, and know that all of my organs are fiercely protected by the man I married when we didn’t even have the ability to legally drink. 

Happy 11 years, my love. Thank you for looking at me in all of my imperfect glory and simply stating, “Yeah I can live with that every day.”


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