One of the most memorable moments of our wedding weekend happened the night before the wedding.
My husband stood up at our rehearsal dinner and gave the most eloquent toast. In front of our family and friends, he spoke about me, about us, in a way that left the whole room quiet. I remember sitting there in awe of the man I was about to marry, listening to him say things so thoughtful and sincere about his soon-to-be bride. I think most of us were speechless by the time he finished. Tissues were being passed around the room.
I was the proudest Bride.
It was one of those cherished moments that put everything in perspective for me. The next day would be our wedding day, one of the biggest days of our lives. As a bride, all the things you wish it to be are held close to your heart, details many women dream about from the time they are little girls. But in that moment, none of those things mattered. It didn't matter where, or what, or even how. Nothing else mattered, the whys, the what-ifs. Our wedding day was meant to mark the rest of our lives together, and this, this man, was the most right thing I had ever felt in my whole life.
This past January, my husband wanted to go all out for our 15-year anniversary- take a trip, do something big. But honestly, I've been in a season of BURNOUT, feeling like I was never quite living up to enough in all the areas of life: home, work, kids, marriage. So instead, I asked if we could just go to our favorite date night place, the one where we always seem to reconnect.
What makes our date nights so special is a simple rule: no talking about work or the kids.
Those are beautiful parts of our life, but they also make up so much of our daily identity. When our conversations reach outside those lines, we rediscover the other parts of each other: the dreams, ideas, opinions, and curiosities that made us interesting to each other in the first place. Date night becomes our chance to remember who we were before we became teammates running a household. Two people who still enjoy learning about one another. We always leave feeling deeply connected, having had the best time remembering who we are together.
So we went to our favorite place for our anniversary, thinking it would be like any other date night until my husband pulled out a letter.
Now, my husband, being a true romancer at heart, has notoriously written me letters over the years. I can always count on a beautiful one on our anniversary. Usually he hands it to me to read later, but this time he wanted to read it to me over dessert.
My heart stopped.
He started reading, looking me in the eyes, sharing things I had never heard him express out loud or in any other letter. Beautiful words my soul hardly knew how to hold.
And for those of you who were at our wedding and know the inside story, my “double smile” meeting Kyle trying to hold it together; it was that all over again.
I was that bride-to-be sitting down at our rehearsal dinner all over again.
Fifteen years in, in that moment, everything came into perspective. Nothing else mattered but us and the life we are building together. So much clarity came into full view in those quiet moments over pumpkin cheesecake and drinks.
As I sat there listening to him read those words, something inside me softened. The pressure I’d been carrying for months—the feeling that I was falling short everywhere—suddenly felt quieter.
Not gone. But quieter.
Because in that moment, the perspective was clear again. The life we are building together was never meant to be measured by perfection or performance.
It was always meant to be built right here- in conversations, laughter, letters, and pumpkin cheesecake across a table.
And maybe that’s the season I’m stepping into now.
Learning how to see clearly all over again.
