Five years ago today, I walked down the aisle toward a handsome man in Peter Parker glasses and a black tuxedo. Much of the day is a blur in my memory, but that doesn't matter much.
There are a lot of clear memories since that day to make up for it.
Like waking up and seeing him there next to me. Every day!
Or the look on his face when there was a plus sign on the pregnancy test.
Or the way he handled our first real argument, not letting me pout/blame/shout/walk away and instead made me talk until we found resolution.
Or how he battled against worry when he was finishing his comps. He sought counsel, prayed, unpacked his feelings, got to work, and got through it. And on the other side? I can see how his faith grew, because worry has a much smaller place in our lives now.
Or when he jumps in to help with housework that seems to have suffocated me. (Is there anything sexier than a man washing dishes?)
Or when I came home right at the girls' bedtime one night and got to overhear Papa's sweet praying, two little loves in his lap.
Or how he still loves to escape the mundane things of life by strolling the grocery store.
Or every time his eyes light up at the dinner table. Because home-cooked food is this man's love language (and sometimes junk food, too).
In less that two weeks, he'll defend his thesis and graduate. Then he'll be Dr. Jorgenson and I will be the proudest woman in this whole darn state. He has worked hard, loved much, and given of himself beyond anything I could have asked for.
It's premature to use your new title, but I must. Dr. Jorgenson, thank you for these five years of learning, living, and loving. No one could have done it better. Here's to a million more. I love you.