what i can & can't tell you.
about my husband and our relationship, on our five year anniversary.
We don’t remember meeting.
Most likely, it was some random Sunday in the summer of 2015, but it’s likely we’ll never know for sure. I’ve thought about looking back through my journals to see if I can identify the time, but it’s a wide range of time to cover and a slim chance that the meeting of a friend’s younger brother merited words in my journal at the time.
I may not remember meeting him, but I can tell you that I wrote him off from day one. Sure, he might’ve been attractive, but he was the younger brother of a friend, four years my junior, only recently graduated from college. By all my judgments, a baby, and not worth an ounce of romantic interest or energy from my 26-year-old self.
I can’t tell you when that began to change. I haven’t a clue when I began to notice that he might be four years younger than me, but we sure did have a lot in common.
What I can tell you is that he still completely caught me off guard when he asked me out on a Sunday in April four years after we met. And on a Friday, five days later, when I learned he was all at once exactly who and also completely different than I thought he was. And again, on a Saturday in July, when he got down on one knee next to a pan of cinnamon rolls in my kitchen and promised to love me forever, if I would have him.1
There’s a lot I can’t tell you about our relationship, but what I can tell you is who my husband is.
He is a lover of story and beautiful artistry. He’s a bit of a film snob. He thinks most musicals are bad because the songs don’t move the plot forward, but he’ll plan a night to see a movie musical in the theatre to get me out of my own head. He falls asleep almost every time he tries to read a print book, but he listens to countless audiobooks every year. He gets as excited as I do over how good a good story can be and how bad a bad story can be, and this is one of the things that caught my older sister’s attention before we started dating.
He is someone who rarely follows a recipe, even the first time. Sometimes because he thinks it will be better (and he’s usually right), and sometimes because he just gets caught up in the process of cooking. He almost considers it a moral failure to be a picky eater and will nearly always eat food he doesn’t like because he just might this time. (Example: pretzels.) He is someone who researches bread baking technique for fun and is far more critical of his baking than most anyone who tries his food.
He has the most beautiful, stormy blue eyes, and a winning smile that he’s passed down to both of our children. He’s my personal space heater, and his hugs feel like being enveloped in a warm blanket. He always rolls up his sleeves or the shoulders don’t fit because his arms are too long for the rest of his six foot frame. Given the choice, he would always be barefoot, even when taking a walk through town.
He makes our daughter light up when he walks into a room. He has little bits and routines with our son that regularly fill our home with laughter. He’s a jungle gym for our kids and a big chest to snuggle into. He practices voices for children’s storybooks under his breath, so each character is consistent and unique. He lights up when our kids say “Dada!” the moment he walks through the door and regularly expresses how much he loves being a dad.
He is a deep thinker. He will soliloquize on any number of topics and most of his podcasts are two or more hours long. He loves to play devil’s advocate and can always understand the other view point, even if he doesn’t agree with it. If he holds a firm opinion about something, you know he didn’t come to that conclusion lightly.
He loves the great outdoors. Hiking is one of his favorite things in the world. He would live off the grid in Montana if I would let him. He’s been lobbying for backyard chickens since before we got married.
He is someone who will tear up when talking about marriage as a picture of Christ and the Church. He loves the Church and its people. He loves Christ and His word. He is broken over his sin and its impact on himself and others. He loves worship, fellowship, service, and communion.
He is not a writer, but he is a wordsmith. His handwriting is nearly unintelligible, but each word written is with thought and care. He is a master of the big picture story arc, and also excels at fine tuning the minute details that make a story flow.
He has never owned a smartphone. He hates being behind a computer and much prefers to work with his hands. He loves to figure out how things work, to build, to create something tangible. He finds great satisfaction from a job well done and loves falling into bed exhausted from a day of hard work.
He gets people. He understands how they think and interact in an intuitive way. He often knows I’m anxious or bothered by something before I even know what the cause is. He notices patterns in how people communicate. He is charismatic and winsome. He can be a total ham and a bit over the top when he wants to be.2
He pays attention to what I need on a day to day basis and makes sure I get it. He never makes me feel bad for taking time to myself to recharge and calm the overstimulation. He buys me croissants just because. He kisses me on the forehead and holds my hand in the car. He tells me I’m beautiful, all of me, even the parts I desperately wish I could change. He makes me laugh. He brightens any day. He is my favorite person on this planet.
Five years ago, we said I do.
I can’t tell you what the future holds, but what I can tell you is it will be wonderful so long as he is by my side.
Happy anniversary, babe. I love you.
That was a surprise because I didn’t think he’d had a chance to talk to my dad or get a ring. Not because I didn’t expect him to propose at all.
This is the other thing that caught my older sister’s attention.
happy anniversary!