Something borrowed, something new. Something old, something blue.
Somewhere in between 74 antique mason jars, seating charts, squat marathons, hotel blocks, cellists in Florida, waxing, bleaching, tanning and plucking – the traditional “somethings” slipped my mind (imagine that). Not my husband’s though (here come two major “awww” moments).
The Night Before (one year ago, today)
Rehearsal night, we had all gathered in the garden at Golden Ocala to run through the order of the ceremony. A bundle of nerves, it all started to feel very, very real. 1 year, 2 months and 27 days of consultations,fittings, appointments, planning marathons, trips to Hobby Lobby and craft nights all coming to fruition – and now it was time to practice. When the pastor, Dean Inserra with City Church, said the part about “with this ring, I thee wed…,” my thoughtful husband slipped a ring on my finger. Befuddled – I asked him who’s it was (assuming this was a part of the practice run) and he said, “It’s yours – it’s your something blue.”
It gets better. The next day, 30-minutes before go-time (and my last 30-minutes as a “Miller”), my husband’s younger brother came into the bridal quarters bearing a second surprise. My husband had taken my mom’s former wedding band – and had a bling-blingy cross necklace made for me. Something old – and something new!
364 days out from that extraordinary day and I could not be more grateful for the man I married – and the man who stole my heart four years and one day ago. He’s asked before – “When did you know that you loved me?” And the response is always the same – “that time you brought homemade baked mac & cheese to my studio apartment.” Granted, I had only known him about a week at that time – but anyone who drives across town to deliver your favorite food – before they even know what your favorite food is – is destined to be a keeper.
The reverie is a constant parade of head-spinning fireworks and stomach-lurching butterflies – but the truth is, love grows from the simple things. English Novelist and Poet, Emily Bronte captured it beautifully in her only novel, Wuthering Heights, when she narrated Catherine Earnshaw’s feelings towards Heathcliff: “…he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” And yet – while Tye and I could not be more opposite in our talents and traits – it works. His sensible manner redeems my capricious compulsions – and my jaunty spirit balances his competitive edge. Soul mates? Maybe. Seems more like charming symmetry between two people that really, really like to make out.
We share simple commonalities like ordering extra pickles at Chick-fil-a, and picking late-night animal documentaries on the Discovery Channel. Share a preference for pets over (most) people and Crocs when it’s raining – even though they’re the “Monday” of shoes. We’re both perfectly content to spend a date night on the couch in sweatpants with wings, a pitcher of sweet tea, wrapped in each others company. Sure, the occasional night at a stuffy restaurant or weekend getaway is a treat – but it’s wonderful to be comfortably content without the distracting back-drop.
He frowns upon my (subtle) addiction to reality T.V. shows like the Bachelor (even though he occasionally will tune in) because it’s all so “fake” and “they never work out.” Truth be told – it’s easy to fall in love in a helicopter over Hawaii or a beach-front picnic set for two, complete with free flowing Dom Perignon – but when the glittery setting fades away – so does the facade of attraction. If you’re constantly setting the stage for romance – you won’t find it.
Intimacy comes from knowing your partner’s raw soul inside and out, and mutual respect and adoration for the serious and the silly. I’m thankful for the love God has truly blessed us with – and can’t wait for an eternity with the man who knows and loves me best.