Our first 50 weeks

As I write this, Lindsay and I have been husband (or "hubby bubby" as some like to say) and wife for 50 weeks. I didn't spend much time on the math, 52 weeks in a year, and two weeks short of our one year anniversary, there you go. Anyway, we have a lot to be proud of as we look back, and even more to be excited about as we look forward. (Sorry mom and mom-in-law that doesn't mean babies any time soon. They're in the plan, just not yet) Most of the people reading this were probably at our wedding, so I'm sure you remember the snow. Lindsay's birthday was the day before. I call her to tell her happy birthday and she's in a panic because of the forecast. "No one's going to come!!!" she managed through sobs on the phone. Turned out just fine didn't it?

So then we take off for a week in Jamaica. As we walk around the resort in our flip flops and bathing suits, we looked in one of the bars and they're showing the NFL playoffs. It's -3 at one, and 4 above at the other. That on top of the fact that when we woke up that morning, I had to chip the ice off my winsheild to drive, all inclusive sunshine is a wonderful thing. Not to rub it in. We climbed waterfalls, rode horses (Scrappy rules!!), some of us got sick on boats (I won't say which one of us did that), wresteled with sand fleas, had a butler bring us drinks in our personal, oceanside cabana as I listened to Dave Matthews for a while, the waves crashing for a while, Jack Johnson for a while, more waves crashing for a while....etc, etc. We learned how truly lucky we are. Not because we're disproportionatley blessed and have one of everything we need and a lot of what we want, but because we don't have to worry about are we going to have any food to last us through the week. Not everyone down there can say that. Despite my protest and better judgement, we came back. By the way, customs sucks!!

So we get back to the land of the pale people and begin our life as a married couple. I'm still waiting on our butler and cabana. I've been waiting for 48 weeks. More good times than bad. Lindsay's cousin Shannon got married the May (maybe it was June) before we did. We're at the wedding and I remember something being said during the toasts that has been stuck in my head every single day since. "May today be as bad as it ever gets". I liked that. I liked that a lot. For the record, we've had days that were worse than January 19th. We've had fights. We've had, "I have to get out of here and drive around the block to cool down" fights. But we can count them on one hand. And they were all over and behind us by the time the sun set on those days. We're fantastic at realizing whatever we're fighting over isn't important enough to go to bed angry. It really may be the thing we're best at. Wanting to love each other more than we want to be right. There was our first Valentine's Day that I totally blew because I was sick. I was so sick I missed out on the dinner at church we planned to go to, at one point going to get a bowl of ice cream. Not to eat, just to sit on my forehead to cool off. I've tried to make up for it since. But it's been good. It's been great. The three of us, Sheba rounding out the triangle. I learned some things over the summer. I'm incredibly selfish. I grew up an only child and took full advantage of it. I had lived by myself literally and practically for eight years. Having to consider what someone else wants to do, someone else's heart, was an adjustment for me. One I'm still working on. Luckily my wife has the patience I lack. I learned what I already thought I knew, that it's an every day thing. Making sure she knows every single day that she's more precious to me than Broncos football, mountains, lakes that look like mirrors, and cabanas. She knows that. I think she really does. But I still have to remind her.

We spent a weekend at Oak Island, as the Webster again were nice enough to let us use their beach house. Lindsay still doesn't loose at putt-putt very well. Though she makes up for it while singing karyoke at an ice cream shop. The sand fleas aren't as vicious domestically, the Papa Bear still hits a special spot, and if you're looking for seagulls, walk on the sand with bread.

Then came our second honeymoon. My favorite place on the planet. Colorado. Denver, Rocky Mountain National Park, Red Rocks, Georgetown, Boulder, Grande Lake, Winter Park, Frasor, Crooked Creek, Estes Park. We had a cabin where all I had to do was roll over in bed to watch the sunrise over the mountains out the window over looking the valley. With all due respect to the beach, the ocean, I'm convinced more than ever that if God has a vacation home, it's in Grand County, Colorado. Watching female elk nurse its young no more than five feet away, learning I really can't walk on water, getting so caught up in the beauty that we leave my dad's video camera at Emerald Lake, realizing that no amount of leg curls at the gym can match the workout that is hiking at two miles above sea level, hearing a bugling elk in the beginning of the "rut" (mating season), feeding squirrels, dipping heads and toes in to Rocky Mountain rivers, claiming previously un-named waterfalls, choosing potential retirement sites, taking a carriage ride through downtown Denver, seeing snow four days after Labor Day, and again against my better judgement, finally coming home.

We setteled in for the last part of the year at home. Lindsay joined my passion for football. Just in an effort to show me how much she loves me. I realize I haven't joined her world as much as she has mine. Hopefully I will do better in our next 50 weeks. She really is amazing. I really am blessed. I also learned what I already thought I knew. People who say marriage stinks, "The ol' ball and chain", insert cliche here...I can see why they would say those things. It can be brutal if you get it wrong. You choose to spend life with the wrong person for the wrong reason, sure...it can be its own form of torture. But do what I did, let God guide your choices and direct your heart, and you get it better than right. You get Lindsay. I used to hate the idea of marraige. Used to. I hadn't met her yet. Thank God I was wrong.