Just a few years ago

Saturday was our 17th wedding anniversary. We’re pretty pumped because we’re able to count more good years than bad! Years 1– 5 were good, mainly because we were young, stupid and too tired to argue thanks to having two babies while Sean finished grad school. Years 6 – 12 were bad. Way, way, bad. Got older but not wiser, love got harder and we were still tired from babies one and two; baby three added to the sleep deprivation. Years 13 – 17 saw improvements. Got more sleep thanks to the kids getting more sleep. We got older and thankfully a wee bit wiser.

Our wedding was spectacular. We get comments all the time from folks who had a blast that night. The ceremony was full of magnificent music and excellent words. The reception was full of good food, great music and visiting with wonderful friends and family. It was a remarkable night.

As I think back on it one of my favorite memories is talking with a table full of friends from college. I wanted to pull up a chair and stay with them for the evening but I had to make the rounds. I don’t have many regrets about that day but not spending more time with my college friends who drove a really, really long way to see me get hitched is one of them.

Music was a huge part of the day. The music for the ceremony was a perfect blend of our tastes. My elementary school piano teacher played a medley of Amy Grant songs, Sean’s church organist played nearly 30 minutes before the actual ceremony began, and the best music minister ever directed a flautist, French horn player, pianist, vocalists and guitarist to make some of the sweetest music I’d ever heard. Bonus – all musicians were our good friends from church.

The music at the reception was flat-out fun. I had a very specific list of songs for the DJ, including The Pina Colada song which Sean and I loved. Apparently we didn’t listen to the words very closely. It’s not exactly the best song to play at a wedding but we liked it and danced to it and ignored the part about the husband getting tired of his lady who had already placed a personal ad for a secret rendezvous with someone not her husband.

I question the inclusion of Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me as well.

Our first dance was to Harry Connick Jr.’s Recipe for Making Love, chosen solely for its time: 2:38. Sean didn’t want to dance any longer than he had to. It was a good decision. The man can play piano like a pro but cannot make his feet move to the beat.

That night I would not have believed anyone who told me marriage would be a struggle. We were in love and I thought that feeling would never end. (Did I mention I was young? And stupid?) Seventeen years later I know good marriages don’t just happen; they’re fought for, sometimes daily, sometimes hourly. But the fight is good, the struggle sanctifying.

And the making up is pretty darn sweet, too.

Happy anniversary to us!