Back in 2019, Sarah and I were planning a vacation to celebrate our 10th anniversary for the following year. We were planning to go to California and visit the Giant Sequoias and mighty Redwood forests. We wanted to see them, touch them, marvel at their magnificence. We wanted to walk through the redwood forest and feel minuscule in both time and stature. We wanted to hike on the John Muir trail and listen to the mountains’ call. Most importantly, we wanted to simply be together celebrating ten years of marriage in a place that resonates with not just our sense of awe, but also the deepest parts of what makes our relationship the bond that it is.
“Invest in the millennium.
Plant Sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest that you did not plant,
That you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.”
But then came Covid.
“Ok, we’ll plan a big trip for another milestone year, maybe year 15.”
Yesterday marked year 15 for us. A lot has happened in the last five years. In some ways, it feels like more has happened in the last five years than what occurred throughout the the first ten years of our marriage.
But I wake up this morning with Sarah beside me, sleeping soundly. We are not in California. We are not on vacation. In a few hours our entire Boys Town family will be up prepping for the day. Making breakfast. Tidying up. Talking over the plans for the day.
Am I disappointed? No, not really. I’ve mentioned this before, but the time during the pandemic really taught me a lot, and in particular to not take anything for granted. And yet still I have to continually remind myself of the graces upon graces that surround me in my life. I’ve learned through the hard times what it means to be joyful.
Sometimes, in the mornings before everyone heads off to school, I’ll sit with my coffee at the end of the dining room table and simply take in the busyness of the morning schedule embodied around me: Micah and Ezra running about, our dog chilling on a pillow on the couch in the living room, Sarah in the kitchen in her robe, and the girls we take care of each getting ready for their own days. There is often laughter, there are breakfast conversations, and yes, there are sometimes attitudes (an inevitability in a house filled with teenage girls). It makes each one of my days filled with the fullness and abundance of life — in all its griefs and glories.
I am blessed to live this life. I believe that deeply into the marrow of my bones.
But the last five years have not been easy by any means. The pandemic was terrible, my brother died, our adopted daughter ran away, Micah had significant behaviors at school to the point we took FMLA, we had a spattering of girls throughout the last few years that were very challenging to serve and being around them often demoralized me. I gained weight. I attempted therapy twice. I was often very sad or overwhelmed. I felt inconsistently criticized at work despite me giving this place and these kids my soul.
Overall, I’d say the last five years have been some of the hardest of my life. I’ve experienced some really low, lows.
I’ve attempted being creative — taking photos, writing essays, writing poems, playing the piano.
I’ve attempted being active — taking bike rides, I learned to run, I traveled to various states for half-marathon races, I go on yearly hiking trips with my closest friends.
I’ve attempted healthier habits — getting better sleep, eating more nutritious foods, going to spin classes and saunas, losing weight.
I’ve attempted being social — I go out twice a week with friends, I joined a run training group, I’ve hung out with family and made new friends (in my 30s!), I’ve connected with people online.
I’ve attempted being inspired by storytelling– I’ve read dozens of books, I’ve watched nearly every critically acclaimed movie in the theater, I’ve delved into photo books, and even met my favorite photographer.
But throughout the last five years, the most important times have been the times with my family, and particularly with Sarah. She is my constant in my life, my loyal and loving partner through it all. Any actual growth that I experience is because I have a complete trust and safety found in her acceptance and encouragement, which is something that, quite frankly, I’ve needed a lot these last five years.
So, for our 15th anniversary we didn’t travel to California, after all. Instead, before everyone was up for the morning, I went on a bike ride with my best friend, and later Sarah made mulberry and cherry jams in the kitchen. And we enjoyed a sushi lunch with our nearly teenage boys. Sarah tried on her wedding dress for the first time since our wedding day, and she looks just as beautiful in it now as she did fifteen years ago! In the evening, my mom watched the boys so Sarah and I could go out for a nice dinner. We chatted and reminisced about the life we have created and live together. When we came home, our Boys Town girls were cheering on the Pacers as if it were their very own hometown team. Micah and Ezra made sure to check in on us, asking if we had a good time out together. (We did!)
Near our front door we have a print of a Giant Sequoia famed on the wall. It is there to remind Sarah and me of what we see our work as: planting Sequoias.
So who needs to go to California when we have planted and tended to an entire forest of Sequoias ourselves here in Nebraska?
Sarah, I love you.
Year 15 of 1000.
I look forward to the harvest.
True to you, whatever comes.
Stepping Back 