A Letter to Joy: Weathering With You

This is the third installment of a Monday Marriage Love Letters series Joy and I have been writing along with fellow married bloggers Seth and Amber Haines. You can jump over and read Joy's post here. And please let us know if you'd like to be part of our little marriage letter link-up!

Dear Joy,

Thirteen years ago, I stammered out my wedding vows to you on that unseasonably warm September day. I was an absolute mess. I could only whisper the words between sobs. My lower lip twitched like a dog’s hind leg when you rub that perfect spot on its belly. I was so happy, and I remember thinking, “What’s happening to me?” (I’m so glad our ceremony didn’t end up on film, or any recording device, for that reason.)

You probably didn’t know before that day that I was given to crying in public when I’m saying something for which words are sorely insufficient. I mean really, how can anybody say, “until death” without being a complete emotional wreck? It takes a stronger man than I.

But fortunately for me, you didn’t seem phased by my complete lack of composure from being so overwhelmed by the moment. You loved me right through it.

And that would definitely not be the last time I would cry in public. Ten years later, we were holding hands again on a church platform on a chilly October night, saying goodbye to Elli with 500 onlookers weeping with us.

But fortunately for me, once again, you didn’t seem phased by my complete lack of composure from being so overwhelmed by the moment. And once again, you loved me right through it.

We have weathered so many “hair-down” moments in our marriage, when composure and calm went completely out the window. Emotions were raw. Tears flowed. As the “head of the household”, there have been moments when I definitely didn’t keep it all together.

Yet fortunately for me, you seem to be into men who aren’t afraid to cry. Each of those moments has seemed to to bring us closer together. With each storm, we’ve just huddled closer under the umbrella. Then when the umbrella got taken away, we just sat in the rain together while it pelted our foreheads in the night.

I guess that’s what I was thinking about when I sobbed out those vows. I was thinking about the storms, and knew that the person standing in front of me would be huddling under there with me, with her hand squeezing mine for dear life, unphased by my lack of composure.

I love you,

Scott