15 years ago, I married the love of my life.

I was a mere 18 years old…

And I’d probably throttle my girls’ necks if they suggested at that age that they tie the knot. (my parents weren’t super excited about the idea, either, which I thought was horribly old-fashioned and mean of them…It’s amazing how being a mom oneself changes your point of view drastically!! Oh, and did I mention I met him in an Internet chatroom and had only “seen” him twice when we got engaged? AND he lived halfway across the country?)

But as ill-fated as the whole thing seemed, I’ve never regretted it, not ONE DAY. (Okay, fine, there have been a few days when I was especially mad at him that the thought might have glimpsed through my mind… but it fled fast, I promise!)

We’re spending a few days in the mountains at little cabin high up in the woods. Today was glorious. We ate breakfast on the porch overlooking the beautiful mountains, then just laid around and did pretty much nothing all day. We needed this. We needed time to just BE.

Last night, we went to the Island in Pigeon Forge and rode the Big Sky Wheel. Afterward, we sat and watched the water show while holding hands.

This funny thought came to my mind.

We rarely hold hands anymore. Not that we don’t like to. I LOVE holding my honey’s hand.

But usually our hands are engulfed in the tiny hands of our children, ensuring their safety and enjoying their presense.

There is such joy in such a simple thing as holding hand.

I’ve missed it.

Tonight, we’re headed out on the “town” and enjoying a nice dinner. There will definitely be more hand holding 🙂 🙂

I’m just stopping in quickly to say…

I love my sweet husband, and happy 15 years, oh-love-of-my-life. Looking forward to see what whirlwind God has for us in the next 15! 



  1. Yay! Sounds like a crazy story. Happy 15 years!

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