Doug and I will celebrate five years of marriage in June. Five years of life in Los Angeles with one Masters degree earned and a second begun, a new church birthed, and of course, the children! How rich and full and terrifying and beautiful these five years have been.
However cheesy Valentine’s Day can feel, we are still compelled to make nice breakfasts and plan surprise outings and give a few more kisses on this day. And when Doug was asked to lead worship at a special Fuller event planned for this evening, he gently declined (though he would have loved to do it) for my sake. Even Mercy has been struck by the romance of the day. This morning she insisted that Cinderella Tree wear a wedding dress.
Our life here cannot be described as “romantic”: words like raw or real, perhaps, fit better. But that is not a reflection on my husband who can pull of the most amazing, romantic surprises that truly make me feel like the princess I secretly thought I was as a little girl. I, on the other hand, completely lack the gene that enables a person to plan and execute surprises: I am so utterly transparent that if Doug just looks at me I tell him everything. I come by it naturally–thanks, Mom!
All this to say, five years is at once so much time and so little. And while our setting here rarely affords date nights, we can enjoy sunsets and Makers Mark on the porch, and sunrises with two of the most beautiful and amusing creatures I have ever met. It may not be Paley’s Place or Palisades, but it is exactly where I want to be.
P.S. Happy Birthday, Auntie Sarah!!!
Update: HE BOUGHT ME THE DRESS! The JCrew one I have wanted for three years. The one that went on sale recently online causing great debate in my soul as I sought to justify buying it. Doug, in his ruthless confidence, even encouraged me: “Go ahead and buy it,” he said, having already purchased it of course, knowing full well that I never would, mocking my internal anguish. So today when I arrived at his office to take him out to lunch, there it was, just hanging on the edge of his cubicle dividing wall while he sat nonchalantly listening to messages on his phone. He had promised the girls in his office that I would squeal (I think “squeal like a pig” is probably what he really said, which is what I do when he gives me things like laser printers and vaccuum cleaners), and I think that I did, at least as much as I comfortably could in the midst of the very quiet second floor of the Students Services building. The only problem is, when I came home I was confronted with a daughter who is totally enamored with The Pink Dress in Cinderella. I am going to have to watch her like a hawk!