Chapter Five: I Want to Fall With You

I was inspired to write this post quite a while ago,  yet I have been sitting on it, waiting for the right words and thoughts to flow. I may or may not have been inspired for this title by the Greatest Showman and the one scene where Zac Efron and Zendaya are singing 'Rewrite the Stars.' As I listened (and that song and soundtrack has been on repeat for daysss, Y'all), those lyrics stood out and I knew I had to turn them into something: 

"All I want is to fly with you
All I want is to fall with you
So just give me all of you"

I'll be real honest with you and say that at the moment, my husband and I are in an argument. It was a late night last night, feelings were hurt, and I ended up sleeping in my son's twin sized bunk bed (the kids were sharing the Queen in Reese's room). The last thing I said to him this morning was that I needed space to think and process and since then, complete silence. It's what I asked for though, right? I decided this is a perfect time to write about the notion of flying with your partner, and yes, even falling. We all go through it, so why not talk about it? 

Fighting is the worst. If you are aware enough in the moment to think clearly, even for just a moment, you realize you aren’t going anywhere, and that you have to work all this out. The trouble is, clarity in the moment is often very hard to come by, and you might as well have a back-hoe for how quickly you can dig that hole with your words. When she asked for space to process, I finally had that moment of clarity, only after I had created what felt like the grand canyon before that moment. Everything still had to be worked out, I was coming home to her tonight, how deep had I made my hole. 

It has been a week since my horse accident. While the title "I want to fall with you" kind of makes me cringe thinking just how far I LITERALLY fell from my precious horse, I think this phrase in a marriage is gold. In December, Asa and I will reach our ten year wedding anniversary. If you had told me when I was twenty all the numerous things and life events that would happen ten years later, there's no way I would have believed you. First of all, that young twenty-year-old who walked down the aisle was incredibly naive. She knew that bad things could happen, and that sure, there would probably be some tears and fighting, and she didn't have a clue what the vows would actually mean. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health...? 

Watching Ash fall from the horse, and the moments that followed were some of the scariest of my life. Helpless and terrified were the feelings I could best describe. There was so much blood, she couldn’t move her hands, like at all. We had a very real fear that she was paralyzed. Terrified. Not at all like our wedding day. I felt calm, collected, ready. I kept waiting for fear and butterflies to come, for my feet to get cold…but they stayed warm, even in the snow and we were married. We made vows to each other, vows that we didn’t quite grasp then, and likely barely grasp now. But we made vows. Timothy Keller says when marriage gets hard we need to cling to the vows we made, vows we’re still learning to understand. 

Our first year of marriage looked like cheap Chinese takeout and Asa mowing our tiny patch of grass of a yard to knock off some money off our rent. We later stumbled through things like medical bills (did you know having babies is SO expensive????) Every year, God has been good to us and we haven't had to live in fear of not being able to pay our bills; but we definitely know what it feels like to scrap and scrounge for income. And it wasn't the first year of marriage that was the hardest (why do people even say that?!) It was the sixth. The year our sweet baby girl was born. Postpartum and Thyroiditis Ashley began to doubt everything--why did I get married so young? What if I wasn't cut out for this? Am I allowed to walk away? Imagine your husband sitting on the porch with you, dialoguing about all these questions WITH you. Processing WITH you. Standing firm and saying, "I will be here in the morning." That year ultimately ended with us getting I Choose You tattoos (our mantra for each other), and our marriage has since flourished. (Except when I sleep in a bunk bed because I am too stubborn to go back to bed with him...) Side note: get this resolved asap...

The first year was a breeze. We had no money, but we never had any before. So at least now we were broke together! It’s way more fun to be grateful for bad Chinese takeout with someone, that sit alone on the couch alone eating the same bad takeout. Money has always been an issue, and always been a means for God to show up. When I became a teacher I literally got the flu the same week. It also happened to run right into Christmas break from school. We were missing 3 weeks pay from me, and had no money for bills, food, anything. And this was after I got this salary job that was going to change our Chinese takeout status to actual date night in a restaurant status. God is funny like that, in my moment of financial achievement he reminds me how much we need him. People from our church provided for us in a way that I’m still humbled by. The real trouble came shortly after Reese was born. I’ll never presume to know how the mind of a woman works. But night after night, Ashley felt like running. She wanted to leave, or stay, or start over, or give up. Internally I was going through emotional hell, but I also knew the truth. I wasn’t going anywhere. And however this played out, I was going to have to dig out of this hole. So as hard as it was, I chose patience, I chose to sit and talk. We talked about our vows, our children, our life, the what if’s of lots of different questions. I think it was a season that brought us closer together. Somehow in the midst of this crisis, Christ shone in, and Love won.

I can remember Asa being really sick only one time so far. It was when he had the flu shortly after he was hired as a teacher. We hadn't yet begun planning or thinking about kids, and we lived in our second street apartment. I believe it was our second year of marriage? He had incredibly high fevers, a wretched and painful cough, and I've never seen him so miserable. I did my best to love and care for him, but honestly Guys, all of my memories are of sicknesses are the times he's cared for me. In sickness, and in health. He has nursed me back to health numerous times, as I am clearly the more sickly one in the relationship. I've had strep, the flu, random viruses, two babies and going through the postpartum recovery process, and now--NOW, a horse fall. I have a busted lip and a broken lady part and he has sat with me through it all. Fun fact: I recently broke down ugly girl crying after simply going pee, and then as I sobbed, told him I couldn't remember if I had taken my medications. My mind + my body have equaled one GIANT mess, and I just keep hearing those lyrics. 

I don’t get sick. I don’t mean that arrogantly. It’s just true. I was a healthy kid, and healthy still. I joke with Ashley that it’s because I drink 100+ ounces of water daily, and exercise 5 or more times a week, but I don’t really know what the reason. I do know I’m blessed to be healthy, and I don’t take that for granted. My poor wife on the other hand…when one kid sneeze I go by cold and sinus meds for Ash, because I know she’s next. The summer of 2016 was the most epically sick my family has ever been. From the moment school let out for the summer we battled Strep, stomach bugs, flu bugs, rashes, more strep, and a GI bug. When I went back to work in August I joked with my coworkers, that it was a vacation to be at school. Jokes aside, isn’t it wonderful to be needed? Not superficially, but actually physically needed. I “slept” next to my daughter and every 5-10 minutes I held her hair back with one hand and a puke pan with another. She survived the night because I made vows to my wife that carry over to my kids. And honestly, being needed is an incredible feeling. Exhaustingly incredible, but incredible none the less. 

Marriage. It definitely is not always sunshine and roses and unicorns. I'm not sure that he would picture unicorns in the equation of a happy marriage? But I'll roll the dice on that. Sometimes, we fight. We say hurful things, get a little too loud, feel all sorts of anger and resentment boil over in our insides, and coming back together unified can take a little while. There have been quite a few 'for worse' moments and memories in these nine years, but there have also been 'FOR BETTER' ones too: 
Our vacations together and the slow, quiet moments during them. Dancing in the living room, standing on the top of his feet. Laughing hysterically at quite literally the dumbest things. Building homes together, not literally building THE home, but making where we live home. Each one, each time, they've all been home. Having kids together. Watching him be a father. Praying together. Dreaming together. And even though he doesn't love to do this because he's such a hot sleeper, my husband is definitely the best Big Spoon on the planet. I never feel safer than when I am inside his arms, his arms wrapped around me--he makes me feel so small and yet so empowered when he holds me. 

Walking our dogs around St. James court, binge watching anything next to her, climbing mountains and waterfalls. Getting excited to buy a spatula in our first home. Building nurseries and filling them with babies and memories. Back porch sitting, practicing hospitality with her. Getting lost in neighborhoods, and coming up with cover stories about looking for our lost sister. Coffee and pasta. Goat cheese and sushi. Building dreams from conversations, and watching conversations come to life. Praying together. Splash parks, hikes, gardens, horses, open spaces, anywhere she's near. The quiet we can sit in, and have learned to appreciate. Sometimes the still moments near her, and the most valuable in my day.

The moral of my story? Fly with your spouse. But don't forget that while you're flying, there is going to come a moment that you are going to fall--how do you want to do that? Completely alone? Or wrapped in the arms of the one who loves and chose you?

 “Haven’t you read,” he replied, “that at the beginning the Creator ‘made them male and female,’  and said, ‘For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh’?So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.” Matthew 19:4-6

Chapter Three: Love is Enough

Before reading, I recommend that you catch up. [chapter one: here and chapter two: here]. Heck, you may be new here and have zero clue what we are writing about. So take a ten minute refresher and then c'mon in, chapter three has arrived! 

Within a matter of days, my heart was 100% Asa's. He worked early mornings at the coffee shop and between classes, I was working several random jobs. He would come over after finishing a shift and we would spend hours together doing life. I remember the long walks best of all...back before we had a rigid agenda. When we would daydream of the romantic families that lived inside those big, beautiful victorian homes--not really having a clue someday we too would be in a gorgeous and charming house of our own. I was planning a trip to Michigan pretty shortly after we met and I himmed and hawed with my mom about bringing him to meet them. Well, he came with me, (surprise, surprise), and then after that, he came to our Thanksgiving my brother was hosting in Nashville. There were a lot of moments where I fearfully tried to push Asa away. I loved him, completely and fully without a doubt, but that's what intimidated me. I wasn't trusting of men, especially after a very unfortunate work incident my freshman year; and yet, there was absolutely nothing untrustworthy about Asa. It's funny that looking back now, nine years later, I don't specifically remember the fights that I would pick with him, but I DO remember sitting outside my house in my car just stewing as he said,"If you want to break up, YOU have to end it. Because I am not going anywhere and I refuse to back out." As I write, I can so vividly see how God has used that same phrase in our marriage over these years. Remember, I choose you? Asa's been saying it from the beginning. 

The fall of 2007 will always be a magical memory for me. Something about love does that. Something about falling head over heels makes everything seem magical. We shared haunted houses, and long walks through neighborhoods dreaming of days to come. We went on romantic dates to the theater and learned how to be still with one another in coffee shops. We learned how to talk when there was nothing to say, and how sometimes the silence together said more than words ever could. October quickly became November.  It was no surprise to me that when she invited me to attend her families Thanksgiving in Nashville, that I jumped at the chance. I mean, turkey is turkey anywhere, and if I could eat alongside her, that made the turkey comma way better, right? But then, that sacred family holiday happened. Lights, and trees, and presents appearing everywhere. We found ourselves in an odd situation of wanting to celebrate together, but clinging so hard to the family we always knew. How could I skip my family Christmas…ever? I didn’t want to be away from the warm fire place, and crazy traditions that had defined the most magical of seasons my entire life. Ashley, being from Michigan set out to leave around the middle of December. We figured a break would be healthy, and that we would see each other after the holidays. We said our goodbyes, and she drove away.

Christmas was soon approaching and it was a different time in my household. There was some heartache that year amongst us and for the first time, my heart felt a piece of home was missing--even though I was there, back in Michigan. I knew that this piece was Asa, and it felt baffling that the holiday just didn't feel quite right without him. I was doing my best at home to be present; to love my parents well and laugh with my brothers. But emotionally, I was absent. I kept picturing Asa there in Kentucky, wondering what he was doing, who he was laughing with, how many hundred cups of coffee he had have. So when he called me Christmas night and told me of some huge news, I was beyond ecstatic. 

Christmas of 2007 was a good year in my family’s house. My siblings were all married, but still made a good effort to be there and to celebrate. My parent’s home was cozy and inviting. Mom is a bit of a nut for Christmas, and we had nine trees decorated all over the house. Christmas carols rang out over the home stereo, cookies and other goodies were constantly being baked or eaten. The door seemed to always be opening to friends and family. In a way, I can’t fully describe it; we were happy, healthy, blessed beyond measure, full of laughter and Christmas spirit, and yet somehow...I was sad. 

In the midst of all the family festivities, I knew Ashley was having a different experience in her home that year. And I knew that she too, needed something else for her heart to feel complete. I took a gamble that I was the missing piece, scraped what little money I had in savings, combined it with the money I got for the holiday, and I purchased a last minute, one way ticket, to Kalamazoo, Michigan for December 26th. It wasn’t Christmas, technically, but it was all I wanted. Love is interesting. I know how much money I had working at the coffee shop part time, so there is no way financially it made sense for me to buy this ticket. Not to mention once I had the ticket, I had no clue what I was going to live on once I got to Michigan, but I guess I didn’t care. Love isn’t logical. It never has been. Love requires action. It’s perhaps the strongest emotion we have, that can sustain us through so many ups and downs, because it can be so fleeting, it must be fought for and clinged too. I got on that airplane, on the 26th, and made it back to my love. That night we privately exchanged gifts in the upstairs room of her parents’ house. The same room just 7 months later I would get down on one knee and make sure forever with her would take place.

As soon as I saw Asa in the airport, I couldn't contain my joy. Walking towards me in a grey sweater and tattered jeans, I fell in love all over again. And while he spent time with me there at home, I would do that many times--fall in love with him that is. From the second he met my parents, there was something about all of them that just clicked. From the beginning, fall 2007, he just fit. He loved my brother Nathan well--reading books and making him laugh. And he and my other brother Sean also hit it off. My mom knew, my dad knew, I knew... and I realized it was only a matter of time before this guy asked me to marry him. Well, seven months later to be exact. Looking back, some things are fuzzy and others more clear, obviously bound to happen with time. But I remember SO clearly, Asa getting down on one knee in the exact same room we exchanged those Christmas gifts. I can still hear the emotional sob my dad accidentally let loose, and my mom downstairs loudly whispering, "Did you get a picture, Terry? Did you GET a picture?!" I immediately wanted to change our Facebook status (I am so lame, guys...) and I texted all of my friends. I have always been a woman who has doubted the good, and suddenly, there it was: the beautiful realization that I would never have a Christmas without this man. 

An odd thing happened the following year. December of 2008 we got married. Prior to the wedding, we set up our apartment, and as every good Glass should, our Christmas tree. I pray I never forget that ratty second hand tree from my mom, or that dark, dingy apartment which was all lit up with twinkling lights. I pray I never forget quietly watching Ashley hang the few ornaments we owned and the way she looked. I set there in awe of the blessing that was starting right there in that very moment. This was our first Christmas together, our first tree, our first everything…and I cried gigantic tears of joy because it was the first of so many more to come. The traditions we have as a family started that year, with a couple of poor kids, so in love with each other that family wasn’t enough, logic couldn’t prevail, without a clue as to what life was going to throw at them. We just knew, in that dark little apartment, among those twinkling lights, love would be enough.

One afternoon during wedding planning my mom called me. "The church can do the end of May 2009 or December 20th of this year," she said. We knew we wanted to get married before the New Year (I desperately needed in-state tuition at the University!!) and beyond that, we didn't want to 'play house' anymore. We wanted to live it. So December 20th it was. As we prepared our first apartment for the holiday and for us living in it together once married, I can still remember his eyes watching me. I was hanging old ornaments and the dogs were on the floor at my feet; in the midst of the lights around the tree I noticed that he was crying. I'll never ever forget the way he lovingly looked at me. As if his entire life, he had been waiting for this moment.

Flash forward a little and my most romantic memories live in that apartment. I reminisce with my friends often, about how we were poor and didn't care. Cheap Chinese takeout and Grey's Anatomy was our Thursday night date, and I loved every second. We laughed, we fought, we cried, we played and we loved. May we never forget the love that bound us together--the early beginnings, the simple traditions, and the legacy we long to build with our now children. 

At the End of Your Worst Day

As time has gone by, refusing to slow down, as it insists, there are a lot of memories swirling inside this twenty-eight year old brain. I could tell you a few from childhood; like when I 'ran away to my Grandma's house' because I was so upset and angry. Or the time I sprinted down our dirt road insisting that I would 'never go back,' because I didn't want to accept that our very old border collie wouldn't be coming back. I can remember some pretty painful experiences from break-ups, lies I had told, mistakes I had made, and friendships that went sourly awry. But as I've grown and aged, it's almost as if those things at this point seem silly--minuet, tiny, not so large in the grand scheme of things. 

As adults, we most often remember and dwell upon the 'worst day' in these present years. I won't ever forget mine, and I'm 100% sure that no matter how big or small, YOU can remember yours. Though it was years ago, it's also practically yesterday. The night out that I had, the very split second that I allowed another man to bump his way into my mind and heart... when the bomb went off, the sirens exploded, and my heart shattered into a million pieces. In that instant, when my brain screamed, "Ashley! This is NOT okay!! What are you going to tell your husband?!" 

For months after the emotional garbage that took place, I was a panicked wreck. Comparing myself to other women, even women on TV shows, swearing at myself and snarling, "They would never do this. Not in a million years. NO woman has ever screwed up like this." You see... growing up I was convinced that women don't screw up. Men do. Women don't think about leaving their marriages, running the other way, being with someone else--MEN do. The wives, the mothers; no, never. Not in a hundred years, or a million. It has to be the husband who causes havoc. 

Except that's NOT true. Not even a little bit. Did you know that females can screw up too? Some of you know my story, our story. You may be wondering from this post, 'What in the WORLD happened?' No, I didn't ever physically cheat on my husband. I didn't even ever come close. But the day some other guy told me that I 'looked cute,' was the day that I started to slide very fast down the relationship avalanche. When I started to care about my appearance, and not for the man that I took vows with. When I started to wonder, 'Did I get married too young? What would it be like if I just left?'

You see, friends? I REMEMBER MY WORST DAY. 

And while recently listening to Bob Goff speak at church (how blessed am I!?!) I was reminded of this perfectly refreshing truth:

"Even in your worst moment, when God looks at you, he whispers, Beloved."

'Who ARE you?' Bob asked. And the answer is this: Yes, I am a mother. I am a wife. I am a teacher, photographer, blogger, and whatever else. But most importantly, I am a daughter of GOD. And I am His beloved. At the end of my WORST day, He was still whispering, "Ashley, you are my BELOVED. Will you please accept and embrace this?" 

I also want to mention that at the end of this worst day, my husband stared deep in to my eyes and said, "Ashley, I will be here tomorrow when you wake up. I choose YOU." Honestly it was so hard for me to hear that; I felt guilty and worthless, useless, and like a screw-up. But that wasn't because anyone who genuinely loved me was making me feel that way--that was because I couldn't quite yet hear the powerful truth and message that my Creator was speaking through the man I married.

Do you have a 'worst day?' Maybe yours isn't as severe or emotional as mine. Honest to God I hope and pray that I never have to endure something as painful as this [as does my husband!], but I know I will continue to have bad days as the years proceed. And maybe you think your worst day is so much worse... Sisters, Friends; I sit here behind this screen and am praying for your heart + soul. May you hear His voice tonight, may you know the Truth that you are worthy. You are beautiful, radiant, valued, worthy, and beloved. Sinner? Yes. Absolutely, because we all are. No matter our fight and chase to the Cross, we STILL screw up. But He is always there, and always waiting. Ready to pick you up, catch you, embrace you, and love you. And, who is there calling you Beloved at the end of your worst day? 

**Whoever you are, wherever you are--may you know that I will pray for you. Send me an e-mail or just simply post a comment that you are ____ and that you need some extra prayer. Thank you for reading, and thank God for His grace; right?!**

Photo by: Jana Glass

Marriage: Cheers to Year #8!

December 20, 2016. Our EIGHTH wedding anniversary and I'm sitting here with tears streaming down my face. You see, I asked my husband if he wouldn't mind sharing what eight years of marriage looks like for HIM, and I in turn have a beautiful passage that has crushed my heart AND made it fall in love all over again; all at once. Ladies, I'm betting this might make you tear up and Gentlemen, there's a LOT you can learn from this man. But here, I've already said enough, so please, read it for yourselves:

Tonight I went to Target for the 17th time this month. I bundled two kids up in winter coats and warm hats. I put on three pairs of socks and shoes, (because they still can’t do it themselves) and hurried all four of us to the car like we would somehow be late to a store not closing for another six hours. I belted Christmas carols at the top of my lungs to make the kids laugh, (okay, and to annoy my wife), but mostly to drown out the bickering from the back seat. I bribed them with ice cream to behave, and rewarded my wife and me with Starbucks as soon as we walked in the door.
After trolling the dollar spot (because we can't just NOT), I lead the march onward to the items we actually came for. Somewhere between home goods, a trip through the Christmas section, and getting a box of Rice Crispies for our future peanut butter ball baking escapade, I had a funny realization…I was living my wildest dream. No seriously. The cheesy Christmas music, the bundling of the kids, the settling petty fights, and most importantly, doing it ALL with her…actually, this is better than my wildest dream.
About ten years ago I battled depression. Clinically diagnosed with major depression disorder, I saw a cognitive therapist every week and took 600 mg of Wellbutrin and 45 mg of Lexapro. I frequently had debilitating panic attacks, and just couldn’t muster the strength to do anything. There were days when I sat in my room and didn’t move. I didn’t read, I didn’t play video games, I sat. Shortly after therapy started I had a terrible day/night and highly considered running my car into the median rail because I was convinced that I would at least feel something before I hopefully left. If it hadn’t been for a good friend in the car with me, whose safety I was worried about, I likely would have done it. I remember trying to unpack all of this with my therapist, and even though I hadn’t given a lot of details I’ll never forget what he said to me. “Girls can really fuck a guy up. I know what you’re feeling is awful.”
You see ever since I was a little boy I yearned to be a husband and a father. I used to swear I’d marry my mother, and I begged Santa one year (full disclosure, I was EIGHT) for a high chair and a crib for my stuffed toys. I wanted to care for those I loved. I fell in love with nearly every girl who would talk to me, convinced that surely I would marry this one and that my happily ever after was about to start. You can’t imagine how often I used to fantasize about mundane pancake breakfasts and cups of coffee. I was fourteen when I first started writing a journal to my future wife. Yes, FOURTEEN. So at the age of twenty-three, (though in hindsight that was still very young) my therapist could see through me: the biggest part of my self-identity, my deepest desires, they were missing.
When Ash and I began talking about what this year, the eighth year, means to me, I told her that it's peace. For nearly twenty-five years there was chaos in my heart, constantly yearning for my dream to come true. So, in the midst of drawing pictures, decorating cookies, microwaving fish sticks, peeling stickers’ off the wall, folding laundry, pouring her a cup of coffee, vacuuming up endless amounts of pet hair, and kissing her forehead, there is peace. Peace in the realization that eight- year old Asa has real live children to care for, and fourteen-year old Asa did finally find his forever. Perhaps the most pivotal moment of my life wasn’t when I stood in front of everyone and said “I do” but when I handed a girl a cup of coffee and she said “We should be friends."

See, y'all? I told you he's good. But now it's my turn and how do I even come close?! I suppose realness is valuable and that's the best that I have to offer so here it goes:

Most of you know that I was a whopping twenty-years old when I married this man. And before him, I basically had a boyfriend of some sorts since kindergarten. Somewhere in my late high school years I turned a little cold and bitter, and I started to tell myself that I really didn't 'deserve' a wonderful man. Actually? I just didn't really have too high hopes that one was out there. I thought I'd marry my high school sweetheart, but we kinda broke each others' hearts after I moved away from Michigan. He changed, I changed, you know how it goes. I never kept a journal to my future husband, I honest to God even didn't know how to PICTURE said husband. But when I walked into Sunergos Coffee back in 2007, I left knowing that I had found him. It was a busy day of tests and speeches and presentations for me and this cute 20-something year old guy jokingly said, "I sure hope you have someone at home to rub your shoulders later." I laughed and then said, "We should be friends!" Many Facebook messages later, a walk in the park with his dog, finally exchanging phone numbers, and spending every waking minute together, we were official. I had no idea what the future looked like, I was hell bent on marrying this man, and then suddenly--here we are. Eight years later.

If you could actually somehow peek inside, these eight years would reveal many scars on our hearts. Tears have been shed, doubts have been had, mistakes have been made, grace has been given, and yet love lives on. We didn't know how to fight when we got married and we still don't, but thank God we've improved. I try hard not to slam doors, he works on not yelling too loud, and we work hard to make sure that the kids are NEVER involved or hurt by us. We've moved three times, gotten four pets together, had two babies, been through too many awkward moments to count, and yet there was a never a day that I cared if he stood in the bathroom while I used it. I fit perfectly inside his six-foot frame, he knows the precise way I like my forehead to be kissed, and there's no one in this world that could care for me like he does.

 Our biggest roles right now are raising our two beautiful children, but most importantly, it's still finding ways to love each other better. We had the phrase "I choose you" tattooed on our arms in July 2015, as a daily reminder that even when we screw up, even when we fail, even when we feel like life is too hard; we still choose one another. This man loves so deeply, so gracefully, and so beautifully; I am blessed to be the one he has chosen.

All of these beautiful pictures were taken by my sister in law Jana Glass, who is the photographer at Looking Glass Photography. I'm so humbled she spent an afternoon with us in all our awkard posing glory and moments of just completely cracking up. I'll cherish these forever!

And if you've made it this far, you can read about how this hunk of a man and I met HERE!