August 17

Twenty years ago today, Adam and I stood before God and a collection of family and friends and promised to love one another no matter what. Tonight, we celebrated and reminisced over dinner at the Limewood Bar and Restaurant in the Oakland hills.

I'm not entirely sure what 24-year old us dreamed of back then, but what a what it has been. Twenty years of kids and homes and work and dance and binge-watching "Lost" and "24" and "Justified" and A's games and Little League and laughter and walks around the 'hood and pumpkin patches and Kauai and Christmases east and west. 

And, of course, there was searing loss and devastation and pain --so much pain that I wondered how I'd ever breathe again-- and then slowly, slowly, slowly, recovery and rediscovery and redevelopment and rebuilding. And then remembering, first with tears, and then more often than not, without. And then moving forward with mental photographs of all of those beautiful, painful, salient moments packed away in our life's luggage.

And underneath it all, even among the times of apparent disconnection, was love. Because ultimately, that's what holds a marriage together for 20 years. I don't mean the romantic, can't-live-without-you love that Hollywood peddles like a vendor at a flea market. No, it's dedication and consistency and flexibility and understanding and commiseration and devotion and bucking human nature by putting yourself last and patience and forgiveness and grace. Maybe more forgiveness and grace than anything else. And faith. Always, always faith. And holding one another up in faith.

So today, for all of that --for the light and fluffy years that melted away like cotton candy in the sun and the ones that hurt to look back on but taught me so, so much about life and care and genuine love-- I am grateful. Because 20 years of marriage is, at its core, a blessing.