fifteen years ago today, on the hottest day on record in the northern hemisphere, i married this beautiful woman. in what turned out to be the luckiest, most lop-sided move ever, i somehow convinced her to marry me, and, now, fifteen years later, we are still discovering what that means. sometimes i don't feel like getting up from watching the buccos on tv to help with the bedtime ritual for the kids. that's marriage. sometimes i want to watch batman begins for the 27th time, and she wants to watch pride and prejudice for the 127th time. that's marriage. sometimes i don't want to talk about it. sometimes she just needs to be heard. sometimes i want to argue it out. sometimes she just needs space. that's all marriage. and sometimes when we are walking, not to anywhere fancy or special, mind you, she'll just slip her hand into mine, and my nerve endings will somehow send little messages almost instantly through my hand, arm, shoulder to my brain
a collection of words about God and life and art and baseball and football and hope and my family and my ministry and music and the immense joy in each moment of all of it. it's a record of being human. welcome.