I woke up that day in my own twin bed, refreshed and bright eyed. The only interruptions of the night’s sleep came from my excited checking the clock to see if it was time  yet. My excitement sent me for a long and fast run that led me to my childhood parish. I took some time to think in the pew where we sat weekly as a family. The only tears of the day fell joyfully, and I knew with great confidence, that this, truly, was the day God had made, for me and us.

I primped, and fussed, and posed, and prayed. And there is something very special that lace does to a girl, and I was wearing a ton of it.

The aisle, though long, felt short and went fast, as I excitedly hurried my dad along, stealing away his big moment. The aroma of hydrangeas, and lilies too. The amount of grace is sort of like trying to take a drink from a waterfall; delicious and pure, and too much to take in at once.

“Will you accept children lovingly from God?” “We will!” We thought we knew, but we had no idea, of how happy, and hard, and funny and gross, and that’s why promises are made at the beginning of things.

This morning I woke to giggles and jumps, and crying in the crib down the hall. My sleep, interrupted by nursing and nightmares of boyhood. There was no makeup artist, not even time for a shower. My steps were slow and crunchy since they think its okay to eat cereal anywhere they want. I smelled poop, and pee just like always, and burnt eggs too, because Jim’s romantic effort was left on the stove for just a bit too long. There is camp, and work, and laundry, and snot. Grocery shopping, cleaning, disobeying, and time out. 6 eyes that need us, and three mouths to feed. Its a great day to be married, and I’m really fired up that we did, we do, and we will.

Happy Anniversary, Jim. We are five years, five people, lots and lots of funny. You are definitely the only person with whom I’d ever want to have 10 kids.