They Still Do

Thirty-seven years ago today, my parents said, "I Do."

I wasn't there to take pictures.

And I'm not at my parents' house to steal pictures.

So these will have to do.

September 1, 1973. Robert and Ann. Really. Those are his ears and her eyes.

Thirty-seven years would bring two sons and three daughters, two sons-in-law, seven grandsons and four granddaughters, six dogs, seven cats, a bunny, countless goldfish (because who counts fish?), many groans, and many more laughs.

Bob and Ann watching a movie. Mom watches with her eyes closed ... always.
I can see Dad's ears again, and that little nose is Mom's.

Dad wasn't going to have any kids. He also hated peanut butter. Now his dessert of choice is a Nutty Bar and
it takes two hands and many toes to count his descendants.

Mom and Dad can't stand to be apart. When she's not cooking up a storm for her large family, she's off to work with him. (For the life of me, I could NOT coax those fingers out.) Dad's ears again; Mom's sense of humor.

Dad loving on a baby.

Dad has always had some project going. His usually involve a jig saw and stain. Mom has always had projects going, too. Hers usually involve jigsaws and stains, too.

The one on the left likes the jigsaws; the one on the right likes to stain.

Despite his best efforts, even Dad's been caught snuggling a baby a time or two (thousand).

There aren't words enough for how grateful I am God placed me in your family. Even if a picture really is worth a thousand words, there wouldn't be enough pictures. Not enough words, not enough pictures. Just an overflowing heart.

I see you two every day in my children. Sometimes I even hear you in my words.

Happy anniversary to two people that this household holds very, very dear.

We love you!