A Final Letter. Or Two or Three.

Dear marriage-

Sometimes you’re like another human being in our lives. One day you’re fun and silly, the next you’re confusing us with your seriousness, and some days we’re not sure what you’re feeling at all. But we all live under this roof together and try to make it all work: love and friendship and passion and grace and all our paperback books. We weren’t quite sure about this “two become one” thing initially, but the longer we battle through these things, the more we start to look like one another. And more like the one who created us all. I think we’ll keep meeting every day, but go easy on us for the next few decades. Life is about to get really interesting.

Dear Kyle-

Thanks for making me do difficult things, even when I don’t feel like it. You know that I struggle with being consistent in anything, but you’ve taught me nothing since I met you if not that discipline is the key to any success. You are the most disciplined person I know, which is mostly good, but sad when I want to play and you have to write. It makes me feel like a puppy and like you’re an old lazy dog, so confused by my scampers and hops but still focused on what you’re doing. Thanks for putting up with me and carrying dragging me through so many things. I have nothing but faith in you.

Jen

Dear Jen-

Thank you for carrying me when I needed it and loving me when I didn’t want it. This last year with you has been spectacular, the full physical manifestation of all my hopes and fears and dreams about relationship between two people. Living together has been tough at times and not very much fun at others, but I wouldn’t trade it for easy, I wouldn’t trade it for frictionless or less complex either. It’s been worthy and I think when you get married that’s really all you can ask for. Just think, only 49 (or so) more years. Most of which will be filled with other little people who further complicate our lives.

Always,
Kyle

Dear readers –

This blog would be little more than the working out of our relationship in the abyss of the internet without you guys coming to our site every day. Sometimes that was scary but we were always grateful for your feedback, your thoughts, your (sometimes spirited) opinions, and your love. And on love, writing on this blog every day has been a labor of such. We went through phases: first we loved it, then we loathed it, then we didn’t know what to do with it, then we loved it again, then it was time for it to end, and now we’re here.

I’m not sure it ever grew into what we wanted but that’s okay because we loved it for what it was. And we’re hopeful that it was something to you: encouragement, inspiration, hope, anything really, anything that moved your soul closer to the Lord and farther away from the things of this world. I think we’ll probably be around in some form or fashion in the coming months. We aren’t sure quite yet what our next project will be but we’ll alert our Twitter followers as soon as we know. If you aren’t following yet you can do so here. Thanks for reading- we hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as we have.

-Kyle and Jen

Sunday Letter

Husband! It’s 11am and I still haven’t posted the letter for today. I think the fact that we’re getting closer to the end of our blogdom creeps us further and further back on our post times. Remember when we used to write the night before and autopost at 1:30 am? That was really cute.

Somehow I think that when you see something coming to completion, you tend to sit back and enjoy seeing everything you’ve done up to that point. All the work we did to gain one another’s affections in courtship provided great pleasure at the beginning of marriage, making it seem an almost effortless existence in the new world we were taking on. I really think, though, that a year is probably the limit on riding that out, perhaps bringing us to the end of what they call the honeymoon stage. I’m not sure at what point we no longer fall under the “newlywed” category, but I think it might have something to do with realizing that marriage isn’t actually quite as easy as it seemed during the first few months.

I’m trying to weigh this realization with the fact that so many people say the first year is the most difficult. On the one hand, we can’t ride the courtship wave much longer, but if this was the most difficult year, I can’t really imagine how great the rest of the years will be. Something in me wonders if “the first year is the hardest” was a line spoken once as a conversation starter that accidentally caught on with all of society. That’s where conversation starters will get you. Remember this.

I’ve been thinking about all the things we were doing at this time last year; running around making last minute purchases, packing for the honeymoon, trying to keep our families quiet until the last minute. There was so much expectation and excitement in my heart, and though it’s much different now, the expectation still resides there, looking forward to year two and all the rest that will follow. I know things are starting to look the same every day, but I’m praying for fresh eyes daily, that we would never take these times together for granted.

Clear eyes and full hearts and such.

Catch ya in the pool. Please wear sunscreen today. Our marriage will last a lot longer.

-Your bride

Sunday Letters

Dear wife,

I hope you’re enjoying your little mini-vacation as much as I’m not enjoying life without you this weekend. I thought I was going to revel in getting a lot of work done on my website (and I have) but when it comes to taking a break and going to Braum’s or just siting outside and talking I’m finding it’s just not as fun without you.

However, it has given me the opportunity to plan something terrific for our one year anniversary which is…wow…two weeks from today. It’s crazy isn’t it – this time last year I was at my brother’s graduation, you were meticulously organizing your parents’ venue for the wedding, we weren’t married yet.

Now, I can’t imagine not being married. Like I literally don’t remember what it was like to live by myself, have coffee by myself, watch movies by myself…until this weekend.

And that’s kind of the point I think. I was so looking forward to some me-time this weekend and I’ve ended up just wishing you were here the whole time. That you are so ingratiated into not just my life but my existence is something I’ve never known from another human. I think that’s how it’s supposed to be though, fights and all.

Have fun in Cali, try not to almost lose your ring in the Pacific Ocean like you did on our honeymoon.

Here’s to the next 50 weeks.

– Huz

Sunday Letters

Dear Jennifer,

I’d love to be able to write you some kind of hey, happy “we have lots of kids and I’m glad you’re the one in charge of taking care of them 24/7 and not me!” kind of letter today, on Mother’s Day.

Wait, no, no I wouldn’t.

Although now that I think about it, it would have been rather humorous if you’d written a lengthy Sunday letter to me today stating that we could, in fact, celebrate Mother’s Day nine months from now. And that was how I found out about our future mini-Porters.

No, wait, that wouldn’t have been funny either. Subversive, yes, but not funny.

I think instead it might be good if I just write to you about how thankful I am for our moms which they’ll both enjoy if, God bless them, they’re still reading these posts.

It might be good if I remind you when we get in fights that a lot of that is the independent spirit we inherited from both of our mothers and their hard-headed, if not usually correct way of doing things. I should probably remember to remind you of that after the fact rather than in the moment. Mental note.

Or maybe every time we make a new couple friend we should be grateful that we both inherited our mothers’ verbal (and non-verbal) communication skills, outgoing as they both may be.

It’s fitting, too, that we’re both so interested in entrepreneurial endeavors. I consider that a gift from our moms – yours with her craft store and mine with her personal quilting business. I think that’s one of my favorite things we took from them.

So on today, as we celebrate moms and all their ways I’m thankful that you have a blueprint for who you want to be, what the Lord wants from you. I’m thankful that God blessed us both with moms who cared enough to tell us no and loved us more than we, even now, can ever fathom. You’ll experience it someday, it’s the simple (yet complex) circle of life, and it’s beautiful and sad and funny and probably just a little bit ironic.

And I pray that you would carve out your own mom-ship with our children and that when you don’t know what to do or where to turn you have a pair of people who will know. A pair of wise old women who will just know what you’re going through and what everything was like at that age who will help you make it through.

Because, as I’m sure you’re well aware, moms just always…know.

Happy Mother’s Day to our moms and Happy Future Mother’s Day to you, Jen.

Love, Kyle

A Sunday Letter

Hey hey husband-

I sort of can’t believe the royal couple stole our favorite kiddy names. I mean who isn’t going to name their kids William and Kate in the next ten years? We’re definitely going to have to reconsider. I’m not naming our littles anything ranking in the top 50 most popular names, mostly because I’m one of about 8 million Jennifers born in the 1980’s. Right now, some options are Howard and Doris. Great thing we have lots of time to keep looking.

I have two very favorite things from this week. One has absolutely nothing to do with you, but that’s only because you didn’t know what milk frothers were before I got one as a gift. The other one is all you. Thanks for letting me play fake golf with you in the yard this weekend. I had so much fun, even though I lost all four games in a row. Thanks for letting me start the scores over whenever I felt that a win was just beyond my reach. That isn’t why I married you, but it would have been part of it had we played fake golf during our courtship. Next time let’s invite that fun looking neighbor girl. I think we could definitely be friends.

Thanks for always encouraging me to learn new things, even when they seem frivolous. I know my hobby bouncing makes you crazy sometimes, but this life is so short and there are just too many things to figure out. I know this will make me one of those old people who always calls themselves, “a jack of all trades and a master of none!” I rather despise this phrase and realize it might become a detriment to our marriage as a whole, but let’s be honest. There’s just nothing left to describe me. I’m not in any hurry to purchase a house, but it will definitely open up a whole new realm of possibilites in the hobby department. Gardening and canning vegetables? Now that one is practical. I promise promise.

I think I could bump Jude up the list.

Na na na na na na na.

xoxo

An Easter Letter

Dear wife,

It’s been a pretty full week I suppose. A pair of date nights, the worst softball game ever, NBA Playoff watching, new bike parts, and so so so very much fabric in our home.

First of all, I’d like to apologize to you for throwing my bat in the game on Thursday. I know there were a lot of kiddies around whose eyes had to be shielded and/or averted by their mothers so I’m sorry about that. No matter that I’d just displayed the most abhorrent hitting performance at a softball game in human history and blown the outcome in the waning innings, no more bat throwing.

Oh, and thanks for fetching me the Hello Kitty bandage for my cut open knee afterward. I know I didn’t laugh at the time but I was giggling on the inside.

I had a blast with you on Friday night sitting at our little perch at Chuy’s eating and watching all the people walk and bike up and down the streets. We could have stayed there all night I think.

But we didn’t, we went to see Water for Elephants instead. I was very embarrassed about this outing for three reasons:

  1. I had to explain to you that Robert Pattinson was the star of Twilight
  2. I liked the movie more than you did
  3. I ate most of the Milk Duds and Sour Patch Kids we sneaked in

The last of those was the most unnerving too. I know, I know I grew up in a home where I was barely allowed to watch Mr. Rogers Neighborhood so for me sneaking candy and drinks into the movie theater is borderline grand theft…

So it was a good week, well it was a bad week too, but it was mostly a good week. And it’s ending wonderfully. Three Easter services then lunch and dinner with our favorite Dallas friends? So in.

Sunday Letter

Darling husband,

This week, even more than normal weeks, you have earned the official title of Husband o’ the Year. I know I’ve never been married to anyone else, but even if I had, I think you’d still win hands down. I feel like I haven’t stopped working or going places this week, and I’m in total awe of your ability to make our house sparkly without me asking and your ability to make dinners out of nothing. I still can’t believe we haven’t gone grocery shopping in almost two weeks, but I guess maybe we’re the reason God invented eggs. So many possibilities.

I’m really sorry about losing my house key and having to wake you up at 2am after my adventures of babysitting little Lively. I’m not quite sure what happened to my key, but I think it’s still somewhere in the universe of dog sitting and house guests and Masters gear pickups. We can only leave it in the mailbox so many times before the Mailbox Monster eats it. It was kind of fun to wake you up and see you all sleepy- something I rarely get to experience when you sleep only 5 hours every night. Thanks for listening to my “I’m going to be a terrible mom pajama incident” rant in the middle of the night- I no longer think her screams of terror mean she was possessed, which is great for her. I just hope she doesn’t harbor any anger toward me. Or the pajamas. They were really cute.

I love watching you play softball with your friends. I know I almost stayed home this week from the late game, but I always enjoy cheering for you and hearing the other wives brag on your swinging form. Batting form? I know I sometimes forget to look when you do the good things, but the girls always tell me when to look up from my embroidery and watch you bat. Another reason why living in fellowship is a wonderful idea.

I know we’ve found ourselves with so little time together lately, but this season of life finds us with so many words to write, so much time to work, so many summer parties, and so little space in our schedules for just hanging out. I’m happy to grab those times with you whenever we find the chance, just as long as it involves ice cream.

Forever and ever babe-

Me

Sunday at the Masters

Dear wife,

I was so proud of you today when you pointed out to Becca that the guy with all the logos on his clothes was Lee Westwood and he is indeed from that country across the pond.

Then I laughed when you tried to rationalize young Rickie Fowler’s multi-colored day three attire by saying, “well it wasn’t worse than Friday’s rainbow infestation.”

Your irrational love for K.J. Choi hasn’t wavered I see as you started quietly chanting “My boy Choi! My boy Choi!” while he ambled up towards us late in the afternoon.

We had a blast downing “domestic light brews” (because Heaven forbid the Masters label their drinks with a corporate sponsor) and trading our thoughts on the last ten groups as we sat in the third row on #16, Redbud as the locals call it.

I showed you Eisenhower’s tree and you spat Tiger stats at me while we trolled the course. Oh, and I’m sorry about my cigar smoke, I know it’s not your favorite.

Enjoy sleeping in this morning while Chad and I cut through the morning darkness towards the course to strategically place our seats so we can enjoy them later on.

I’m enthralled with this day, Sunday at the Masters, as you well know by now. It’s my favorite day of the year and it’s not close. You can’t name five other sporting events combined that I’d trade today’s tickets for.

Thanks for accompanying me to Augusta again this year. I’d come with anyone but you’re always my number one choice.

Sunday Letter

Dear husband-

People think we’re crazy. I think they might be right, but it’s the only way I know to live this life with you. Prepare yourself, for I think the next few years are only going to warrant more crazy talk, from the careers we choose to how we raise our littles to the strange things we buy to go in our strange little house. It can’t be helped and it mustn’t be fretted about, for we know but one way to live and we’ll just have to do it. And that will be all of that.

I loved making our new friend this weekend, who, if I believed in reincarnation would definitely have been Ernest Hemingway, what with his beard and his rough old face. This time he’s gifted as a carpenter rather than a writer, because he knows what we know- that working with your hands is the best kind of work no matter the profession. I know God dropped us off in this city for a reason, but hearing him talk about working on his 1903 farmhouse just made this life seem so busy. We’ll keep putting the brakes on against the world while we’re here, but maybe someday we’ll buy that farmhouse. And maybe you could grow a beard.

Thanks for making me a smoothie this morning even though I had to beg you to do it. I know you wanted to volunteer, but I stole your joy in that, so I’m sorry. I won’t tell anyone your recipe of “a bunch of secret stuff.” Even though I think it was just blootleberries and milk.

Cheers to the next few weeks of life together. I love you to the moon.

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Sunday Letters

Dear wife,

I had a lot of fun with you last night on our mini-date, eating Chick-Fil-A and watching the tournament games and subsequently The Fighter. My favorite part was when you were breaking down what Florida did incorrectly to lose to Butler. 1.) Because you were right and 2.) because it’s always cute to see you get all bent out of shape about a sporting event.

Speaking of the tournament, your tweet on Thursday when I went to play basketball with the boys was a classic, “Husband went to play basketball while I’m staying home to watch it on TV. I’m not really sure what happened but I think I’ve been Jimmered.” You have definitely been Jimmered.

Oh and thanks for understanding when I told you late last night that I have two fantasy baseball drafts tonight. You were borderline asleep so I may or may not have used that to my advantage but I appreciate you understanding anyway.

This week has been full of so many different things: conversations about our future occupational endeavors, dreaming about being in Augusta now instead of two weeks from now, girls night, boys night, softball practice, dog-sitting, and book-buying are but a snapshot of what we’ve been doing and working on the last seven days.

I love every second of it with you too. Surely I’ve said it before (and will undoubtedly utter it many times over in the next 60 years) but I could not have picked anyone better than you for me. Thank you for looking at my sin and darkness and choosing to continue teaching me and helping me and most of all, loving me.

AML,
Kyle