Our first decade we spent growing up, making ridiculous financial decisions, fighting, and transitioning our lives from southern California to north Idaho living. We found a church home, grew in our faith, and wrestled with the discomfort of identity crisis and infertility. We stretched in ways we did not know we could move, and we bent in places that had no joint. And we celebrated 10 years by renewing our vows with our close friends. It was only the beginning of knowing what those vows meant.
Our second decade we spent trying to figure out how to grow together despite our differences. How to lean into the friendship we built, connect on a deeper level with the dear ones around us as our prayers were answered and we became parents. Moving from the house we built together to make room for Erik’s mom to move in with us for a season, learning to live together within the challenge of navigating post-partum depression, the loss of a baby, and parenting three under five tested our relationship in ways we could never have imagined. And we celebrated 20 years by renewing our vows with close friends and family. It was another chapter of understanding what those vows meant.
Our third decade is almost over. We have spent it growing with our kids in developmental stages of parenting as they challenge and change us in new ways. Another identity crisis, more tears and choices, more transitions, overcoming and investing in the ones God’s called us to, outside of our bloodline. There are many who pray and remind us of how far we have come and how God’s amazing Grace provides for our every need, daily. Without them I do not know if we would have made it this far. Our differences remain tangible, our ability to make each other laugh virtually effortless, and our commitment to choose Love, even when it scars our souls and is unimaginably uncomfortable remains. And I imagine we will renew our vows again for our 30th anniversary, because it still matters what those vows mean.