To My Wife, On Our 10th Anniversary

I don’t believe in love at first sight.

There was a time that I did, though.

I can still see your face that day – the twinkle in your blue eyes. The smile. The bright laugh.

It just about stopped my heart. It still does.

I walked into the bank, the girl behind the counter knocked me off my feet and I spent the next year trying to figure out how to get past mumbling “I’d like to deposit this check, please…”

I don’t believe in love at first sight.

But there was a time that I did.

I remember standing on your doorstep and knocking. I’d been up since 3 a.m., literally sick to my stomach over the possibility that I was going on a date with the girl of my dreams and there was a very, very real possibility I was going to find a way to bungle it.

I remember you opening the door, you, and in an instant losing all capabilities of speech and concrete thought.

I took you to breakfast, it was a sunny September Saturday morning, and I promptly flicked a piece of French toast across the table top with a nervously twitching fork.

My face burned as I pawed at the toast, clumsily trying to cover it up and make the moment disappear.

You laughed. That wonderful laugh.

That was the moment, you said. That was the moment you knew. I’m glad it didn’t disappear.

You married me 10 years ago today. And I used to believe in love at first sight.

That moment at the breakfast table, and all the moments like it since, we’ve come to call them “10 more feet” moments.

Moments we fell 10 more feet in love with each other.

10 years, that’s 3,652 days counting the leap years – an immeasurable collection of “10 more feet” moments that I can’t fully seperate from each other, but that I can see clearly as if they just happened yesterday.

10 feet when I saw your veiled face peeking through window of the church sanctuary. 10 feet when we met our daughter a year later and 10 feet for our son two years after that.

10 feet for each laugh, each tear shed, each loss and each victory. 10 feet for any time we saw each other at our worst, and 10 more feet for when we realized it was covered under God’s grace.

10 feet for every thought of mine you know before I can vocalize it, and 10 feet for every sentence one of us starts that the other one finishes.

10 feet for every single thing that makes you you, and every single way that you being you makes you perfectly perfect for me.

We hear people talk about the work it takes to have a successful marriage, and it truly, honestly puzzles us.

There have been arguments, disagreements, sacrifices, tight spots, loose ends, moments we wish we had back and moments we wish could go on forever.

But none of it has been work. Ever. We feel very blessed in that.

It’s been an incredible journey, directed and orchestrated by the hand of a mighty, loving and perfect God. A God I’ll never be able to fully thank for the blessing He has given me in You.

I’ll fall another 10 feet for you today, my love. You’ll do something, and I won’t see it coming, and in that moment I’ll know yet once again that it only ever could have been you, for me.

I used to believe in love at first sight, and it was what I thought I felt in that year I spent trying to work up the courage to talk to you.

But that, for as exciting as it might have felt at the time, wasn’t what I feel now for you — the 36,520-foot-deep version of you: my best friend, my support, my partner, my very favorite person in the world … the love of my life.

I used to believe in love at first sight. And then I truly began to see you. 10 more feet at a time.

Happy Anniversary, my love!



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