Number 8

Eight years ago today, I married this guy. The good thing is that I am still as crazy about him today as I was then.

Eight years ago, it was a sunny 80 degree day in Oklahoma City. We got married at 11:00 in the morning because we wanted to do something different. (All of our friends had gotten married at night, and although all of their weddings were great, we wanted something that truly felt like all our own.) The sun lit up the stained glass windows and drowned the church in light as if God himself was looking in and saying, "I am pleased."

The reception was outside. This about killed my mother with worry. May in Oklahoma can go either way. Lucky for us, there were no tornado warnings or other signs of pending doom. Gary England most likely had the day off it was so beautiful. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and all the guests had to wear their sunglasses it was so bright outside.

I can't say that my wedding was perfect. My bouquet wasn't exactly what I wanted and my veil was a little too poofy. But that was/is just me being picky. In truth, I didn't care about any of that 8 years ago today. All I knew was that I was marrying a man that I loved more than anything and in the eyes of eternity that was all that mattered.

It makes my brain hurt to think of everything that has happened since that day: 2 kids, 1 miscarriage, the loss of his father, and my father's cancer. I quit my job teaching and discovered another job as a newspaper columnist, author, and blogger. He quit his job in the financial world to chase his dreams only to discover that they were in California. We've lived in 3 houses and 2 townhouses, owned 3 dogs, 2 guinea pigs, and a fish. To say that our lives have been full would be an understatement.

And the best part of it? I love my life. I love my kids. I love my husband. None are perfect, but they are mine.