Davis and I had our wedding anniversary on Monday. Our 29th to be exact. I was 24 and he was 31 when we married and we didn’t know it, but we were so young. Some of us younger than others, you understand. I was thinner and his hair was thicker and neither of us had a wrinkle anywhere. Here we were in the back of the limo with birdseed still caught in our hair- heading off into life together. 

Both of our kids were here for part of last weekend. Blair and John Samuel had a party to attend and Carson came in to visit them on his way (or out of his way) to a wedding. I’m just glad they all want to see each other when they can. We had a good time visiting and the men watched a lot of baseball games. We took the dogs to walk at the lake. The weather here went from an icy 11 to a cloudless 73 in one week, so the sun and blue skies were calling us outside. We went to eat at one of our favorite places for one meal and I cooked a big meal, the next day. We ate almost a whole coconut cake in 24 hours, which is why Davis and I decided we’d wait until this coming weekend to celebrate our anniversary as neither of us could even think about another rich meal by the time they all left. 

After we’d all gotten home from eating out, someone mentioned something funny that Blair used to say when she was little, which led to me searching for it in our home movie DVD collection. I knew I had the saying in question on tape so we started looking for it through hours of home movies. There were some tears shed, I confess. It’s one thing to look at photographs, but when you hear the sounds of things your heart loved that are no more-  oh, my goodness. Hearing my Daddy call me “Punkin.” Listening to Grandmother’s belly laugh. Seeing my mother-in-law play with our kids. Watching Blair curled up in Davis’ lap. Hearing Carson’s little baby voice talk gibberish behind a pacifier. And seeing Davis and me so young and so busy building our life together. 

I was reminded that’s where most of married life happens. In years of every day moments. Rocking babies. Weekend getaways. Cleaning the kitchen. Trips to the beach. Science fair projects. Date nights. Kids in the bathtub. Christmas at Grandma’s house. Working late. Family weddings. Love isn’t usually like a Hallmark movie with candles and roses and snow starting to fall at the most perfectly timed instant. For us, it’s been the quilting of the little moments that may have seemed insignificant or routine as they were happening, but when we look back, they were all pieces of the beautiful life we’ve stitched together with God’s grace. The love, the loss, the mundane, the thrilling, the joyous, the heartbreaking, the beginnings, the ends, and everything in between. Every piece is part of our story. 

On a lighter note- since we decided to postpone the observance of our big day like a bank holiday, we were just business as usual on our actual anniversary except for cooking a nice steak. That night, I walked through the family room to get a couple of Tums for my unusually persistent case of acid reflux and there Davis was on the couch wearing no pants. Before your imagination makes the situation more exciting that it was, on his way to the shower, he remembered that he needed to soak his plantar fasciitis foot in ice water first. I thought- well, here we are getting older. I’ve got a burning deep down in my chest and he’s stripped down to his underwear on the couch and none of it has one thing to do with us celebrating our anniversary. No, it’s just the years adding up on us, but so grateful for all the precious days we’ve had along the way. 

Thank you, most gracious God. 

Y’all have a great weekend! 

JONI