…whom my heart adores!
9 years ago today, I stood before you in white – adorned with miniscule pearls, an annoyingly poufy veil, and a tan so dark it appeared my head couldn’t possibly belong to the same body – excited beyond belief to become Mrs. McMillan.
And the sound of those two words together…”Joy”, followed by a sing-songy “McMillan”…still bring a smile to my face. In fact, referring to you as my hubby – rather than ‘just’ Joe – delights me to no end!
There’s something intrinsically magical about those endearing terms of “ownership”…husband and wife.
How ridiculously blessed am I to call you my own?
To not just know you…but to know you. Truly and deeply. Honestly and completely know you. And to be thoroughly known by you. Known, and accepted. Known, and loved.
Known…and celebrated!
How do you do it, Mr. McMillan?
You, beloved one, have been the most stunning expression of the Father’s heart toward me that I have ever known. The way you have rooted for me, challenged me, encouraged me, interceded for me, stretched me, grounded me, and lifted my chin – consistently – over the past decade leaves me in awe of the gift of YOU in my life.
I wonder, at times, where I would be had it not been for you? Who would I be today had my parents not followed where they felt the Lord leading them, packed their bags and flown across the world from Windhoek to Michigan?
Yes, I know God is good, in spite of us, and that He would have carried me through all my broken mess – but I cannot fathom, cannot conjure up, a better fit for my heart, for my strengths and weaknesses, for my passions and purposes, than you.
You.are.spectacular. A royally butt-kickin’ human being.
God knew exactly what that messed up, broken down, wildly insecure 21 year old girl needed in a life-mate, and your patience and grace, and unfailing belief in me over the past decade, have astounded me. You are everything I hoped and prayed for in a husband, and then some!
Remember when we couldn’t get that blasted unity candle lit and pastor Ed had to step in and scrape out the wax from around the wick with his thumb nail? There have been times over the past 9 years that striking unity between us hasn’t been easy, and a little scraping and reshaping has been required. As Gary Thomas so aptly asks, “what if God designed marriage to make us holy, rather than happy?”.
Marriage isn’t easy. But what worth living for is? It is one of the wildest, most humbling, most façade-stripping adventures we’ll ever experience {second only to parenting}. But it is – and always will be – the most glorious.
These past 9 years have shaped me and refined me in ways I never thought possible, because you – my love -have always honored my heart amidst the chaos, kept my name safe in your mouth when slander could have come easily, and because, ultimately, you treasured your intimacy with the Almighty too highly to throw in the towel and walk away. Thank you.
Thank you for your faithfulness.
Thank you for your steadfastness.
Thank you for never settling for status quo, but for pressing in and pressing on – with purpose and intentionality – to cultivate the kind of marriage God intended us to flesh out to the world around us, and to the little family within.
Thank you.
Thank you for being such a delightful best friend, such a handy housemate, such a faithful confidant, such a passionate lover, such a strong leader, such a transparent Jesus-follower, such an involved parenting teammate, and such a hardworking hunk. You quite literally rock my socks off.
I simply adore doing life with you and cannot wait to see what the next 75 hold.
Happy anniversary, my babe.
I love you with all my butt. I would say heart, but my butt is considerably bigger, and you know by now how I feel about you.
You do make my heart deliriously happy. Fo’ shizzle.
I admire and respect you more than I will ever be able to put into words. But I’ll keep trying, grammatically correct or not, because I’m stubborn like that. And because you enable me {knuckle bumps}.
“Every time you cross my mind, I break out in exclamations of thanks to God” Philippians 1:3 {MSG}
Ps. Apparently the traditional 9th anniversary gift involves pottery, willow or leather. In my continuing attempt to nail that P31 thing, while honoring tradition, I plan to create some pott-ow-ther cookies for your enjoyment. Which can’t turn out any worse than those {mis}fortune cookies.
You’ll want to eat before you come home.
{shall we dance?}
