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!

Has It Been That Long Already?

Newlyweds become oldyweds, and oldyweds are the reasons that families work.

~Unknown

Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain life that he has given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life and in your toil at which you toil under the sun.

~Ecclesiastes 9:9, ESV

Highlights through our years:

• 2000: our honeymoon :)
• 2001: Benjamin - our first son and our ineptness (aka Attachment Parenting)
• 2002: you started seminary
• 2003: Lily Ann - our first daughter
• 2004: our trip to Seattle (Ben: "But where's Attle? I want to see her!")
• 2005: Abraham and Miriam - our first set of twins
• 2006: our notorious trip to Florida - the breakdown(s) on I-95, the stinky water, the love bugs (ewww), and hiding morning sickness from relatives
• 2007: Eden - our first chuckley baby -AND- our first family trip to Maine
• 2008: Jonathan - our first kid to take 9 months to sit b/c he couldn't stop crawling -AND- you finished seminary!
• 2009: our year in Montana
• 2010: Gideon and Salem - our first set of twins born at term -AND- your ordination!!!

I'm realizing most of these years are peppered with the births of children. But it's not their momentous births that I remember so well (as you say, women forget what birth is like all too quickly). It's all the stuff in between - the thousands of tickles, kissed owies, nights on the porch after the children are in bed, gifts of iced coffee just when I most need them, Netflix or Hulu that I sleep through, midnight runs for pregnancy tests, 1 1/2 mile hikes that take all afternoon with children, late-night running in a quiet world, mad scrambles for the checkbook or the check or my keys or the cell phone or their shoes, homemade sleds, 5-day road trips, the wonder of a Redwood tree, stolen vehicles, 6-yr. olds and their reading lights, choruses of "broccoli, celery, gotta be ... Wedgie Tales!" - the way you carry on, carry me on, and carry our family on. Nothing has been too much for you. You've never said (out loud), "I don't want this...I hate this...why can't things be like they were before..." You've always embraced the day and helped me to smile at it, too.


I'm not sure that ten years qualifies us as "oldyweds," but I love the thought of being oldywed with you.


God has lavished goodness upon me through you. I love you.