Sunday Letters

Dear wife,

I know you don’t understand the importance of Gonzaga and BYU shooting an orange object through a hanging cylindrical cut of metal but thanks for pretending like you do. And thanks for breaking down the end of the Pittsburgh Butler game for us. I’m going to try and get you on with the CBS guys next year.

It’s been really fun learning with you over the last year that it isn’t whether or not we get to spend solid quality time together every day but rather when we do that I treat it as such. Sorry for when I’m trying to do 44 things at once.

I know I said you could spend $50 at the fabric store yesterday but I appreciate you being conscientious of our budget (and upcoming Masters trip) and only spending $35. And I can’t wait to see what you make for your new project.

Speaking of projects, I can’t wait until we can buy a house and I can build hire someone to build you a sewing/crafting/awesomeness room. And I can’t wait to have my own real office with a huge wooden desk that makes our big-screen computer look tiny.

Lastly dear wife, I hope you had as much fun with our friends this week as I did. Traipsing about Dallas, acting like we knew a lot more about it than we did, playing spades, drinking beers from five different continents, eating cheap Mexican food, and streaming Tournament games over the computer is always better with the Godly peers you hold closest in your life.

I know you feel the same.

Love, husband

Sunday Letters


This week I lamented the lack of sufficient systems within our marriage which made you recoil in horror because you’re not as nerdy as me and think we already have too many. Marriage, where arguments over spreadsheets happen.

Thanks for watching basketball with me last night after you got done with your girl date. I know you probably get tired of it, but I have to say, when you get all serious and try to give legitimate sports analysis, it really makes me giggle.

I’m super excited about the time change because it means many more nights sitting and talking on the front porch of our apartment. Or, actually you sitting and me honing my golf swing…either way we’ll still have good conversation.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot, last night you said you really loved the dog we’re currently dog-sitting and wanted one if we ever get a house. I was scared it might be the wine talking so I made you sign and date a piece of paper that will resurface at the appropriate time I’m sure.

I’ve also been wanting to tell you that I’m so proud of you for being brave and engaged in the world around you. I get so lost in my little sports blog sometimes but I can always count on you to drag me out and re-introduce me to real life. I love you for that.

Lastly, this is our 284th post in the last 9+ months, you’re a champ.


Sunday Letter

Dear husband-

I know weddings aren’t always my favorite thing and that I’ve often won the award for worst bridesmaid amongst my friends, but this weekend was really fun with you. I think maybe now that we’re married, the wedding itself holds a little more meaning and a lot more emotion. Let’s be real- I always cry at weddings, but when you hear the pastor talk about marriage representing Christ and his church, it stirs up so much within me to remember that we get to live this out every day.

Chalk this wedding up as another that proves rehearsal dinners are the best part of any wedding. More intimate crowds combined with a more relaxed atmosphere plus time for conversation plus a lack of scheduled photo shoots plus a lack of scheduled anything and really heartfelt toasts? Any day. I’ll do that any day.

I write all this without my wedding ring on, and can’t actually quite remember where I left it. This always turns out to be a little funny, but I know the day is coming when I lose it for too long to be considered humorous. Good thing it doesn’t hold all my love in it.

Not sure why you married me because sometimes it’s like babysitting,

Your bride

Sunday Letters

Dearest Jen,

Thank you for calling last night, a night we found ourselves on the couch at 9 PM, me eating a cookie dough ball and watching a documentary on video games and you inexplicably reading about Bobby Jones and trying to get me to guess the holes at Augusta National based solely on pictures, what it was — a low point. Maybe not only in our marriage but possibly our lives.

I feel like I draw so much humor and irony from you and from our conversations when I write. Thanks for always giving me good material even if I sometimes don’t know what to do with it or how to use it.

The past two months have been difficult. Ever since I started PFB you’ve had to turn on your “I know he has to work at night and we won’t get to hang out very much” sensory which I know, for both of us, is somewhat difficult. You handle everything with so much grace and understanding though, I couldn’t ask for anyone better.

I’m proud of you for all the extracurricular work you’ve been doing — making curtains for people, helping Kaycie pick out home decor, making aprons for…us to put on your dress form and look at. I’m also grateful that you volunteered to hem mine and Bryan’s pants so we don’t look like imbeciles in Ryan’s wedding next weekend.

Ah weddings. Ours was so fun, sometimes I wish we could just replay that day at least once a month for the rest of our lives. Not the catalyst, but rather a mile marker (albeit a rather large one) on this marathon of a relational journey set into motion some four years ago. I’m excited for Ryan and Tera to pass go.

I love you more than I did yesterday.


Sunday Letter

Dear love-

I don’t quite know how I went from feeling really skinny and summery this week to feeling like I was again preparing for hibernation, but it may have had something to do with going gradually from two salads a day to two scoops of ice cream a night. No matter, it’s been fun to get out of the house with you, and I’ll eat four scoops a day if it means getting out of the house with you during the deep midwinter.

Our new french press is amazing and it makes me want to open a coffee shop with you. I’ll change my mind by next week so there’s no need to look into real estate today. My favorite thing this week? Getting up early to write while you made coffee for me, and then catching you listening to your own podcast. I’m so proud of all the work you’ve done- thanks for inspiring me to work hard and do something great. I know I haven’t actually done anything yet, but the brain is churning. That’s all I can promise you for now.

Do we celebrate Valentine’s Day? I don’t know. I tried to find a fun craft to make you but they all look like they belong to a 3 year old or in the trash. It takes just the right balance of fun and whimsy to make a Valentine worthwhile, and I don’t think I’ve captured it yet. I’ve got 24 hours left, so I’ll see what I can do with my bits of fabric and wax paper. I wanted to go to the paper store and buy a large set of Japanese masking tapes, but I figured the expense wouldn’t have been approved and I would have to work it off by selling my poor people crafts. Watching an ’80’s movie with you at the weird old theatre will be the best Valentine’s night I could ever think of. You and me and Andre.

I’m sorry the dryer broke and now our living room looks like I got mad and started throwing clothes at you, but maybe someday we’ll get a house with a backyard and be able to have a really long clothes line and a vegetable garden. I love our little apartment, but I miss the outdoors so much sometimes. I loved sneaking out and getting coffee with you last week during the snow days, and sitting outside with you even though no one else would brave the cold. When I lived in Oklahoma, any acreage seemed too little. Even at my parents’ house, their twelve acres are a little too close to society, too close to the highway, the horizon impeded with the smallest things that steal all the thunder of nature’s glory. But here, where we don’t visit backyards for months, even the tiniest glimpse of nature seems to feed my very soul. The old house next to us at the coffee shop could have been surrounded by a hundred acres of forest and plains, and I would scarcely have known the difference.

You’re the only place I’ll ever call home.

-Your bride

A Sunday Letter (snow edition)

Dear Jen,

People speak of this feeling that happens when one (or two) is shut in to one’s home on account of the weather or some other supernatural, unexpected event. I think people call it ‘going stir crazy.’ Now I’m not entirely sure what that means but I have another word for days (and weeks) like these: perfect.

We stayed in the apartment all week, except for our occasional laps around the neighborhood to get fresh freezing air circulating through our lungs (which for all I know may be filling with coffee at this point). We had to put a quota on those traipses however after I tried to set the world record for quickest time a human can go from standing on two feet to laying on his back. Thanks for not laughing too hard or for too long.

I loved watching Friday Night Lights with you while camping out on the air mattress in our living room because the gas heater in our bedroom is more gas than it is heat right now. I can’t imagine a better morning than breakfast tacos in bed, albeit an air bed, with you and the Taylor Family. And Riggins.

Speaking of football, it’s been kind of nice to forget about the Super Bowl being here. I’ve never really enjoyed or completely bought into the culmination of the NFL season, I think it’s because I like sporting events that sneak up on me and grab me by the hand and say, ‘come on Kyle, let me tell you a story you’ve never heard before.’ It’s the same reason I choose Crooked Tree or Aspen (for our Stillwater-living readers) over Starbucks. Big and brazen and unabashed are played out. Thrilling mid-week college basketball games that aren’t even on TV are so in.

Sorry, I know you don’t always understand my sports analogies but hopefully I cleared it up with the mixed coffee metaphor thrown in there.

Anyway, I hope you had fun at your French cooking night with all the girls last night. I know you’re going to write a post about it later this week so I won’t spoil anything, but I really enjoyed my time with an old friend. We talked about writing and the Lord and bachelor-party planning. That last one is coming up fast too, and it’s going to be crazy. We’re thinking a big night of eating dinner and…well we don’t have much else planned but be ready, we’re even thinking about staying up past midnight!

This week with you was different than any we’ve experienced (and allegedly different than anyone in Dallas has experienced in 15 years) but in a strange way very much the same. For the days don’t pass so suddenly that we forget each other’s presence, rather the opposite, the days linger until punctuated with a shared conversation or note passed back and forth. You are the segue to all my days, without you they simply stand alone, but because of you they’ve begun to tell this splendid tale of redemption and grace and love.

All of time,

Another Sunday Letter

Dear Jen,

It’s been a pretty long but equally good week. You’ve been strong when I haven’t wanted to be and encouraged me to stand unabashedly for the things I believe in. You can’t ever know how much that means to me.

This week I enjoyed you leaving your journal of letters to me in various places around the apartment even though you usually put it somewhere around the computer because you knew I would definitely find it there. I’m only sorry I haven’t had time to write you back.

I was glad we took time for a solid date night. Our weeks always seem more whole when we get away for a night even though we usually end up talking about what we would talk about if we were home anyway: blogging, writing, documentaries, church, having kids, and sports. Maybe we’re just becoming the old fogies we’re excited about growing into someday a little too early?

I thought it was pretty funny last night when you were apprehensive to tell me you thought the acting in Secretariat was borderline reprehensible because you thought I liked it and didn’t want to hurt my feelings. You seemed relieved when I agreed with you — I’m appalled that you have no faith in my taste.

My favorite day so far this week was Friday when we got to attend the OSU alumni event at Bent Tree Country Club and watch Burns and Ann Hargis speak. I think it made you feel like we had tons of money and could hang with the Dallas socialites for brief, fleeting evening even if you didn’t really fit in because you don’t own anything orange. It made me feel like the luckiest Oklahoma State grad in the room because I was with the prettiest girl there. Including the First Cowgirl.

So I hope you enjoyed this week. That’s my hope, not that you would love me more every day or that your life would be transformed by my presence, but rather that you would just enjoy our weeks together. For when our time together is good then surely, over time, we will meld as one deeper into love, deeper into life.


A Sunday Letter

(We’re thinking about starting this new feature called Sunday Letters where we write to each other on Sundays and post it. This is a trial run…let us know what you think)

Dear sleeping wife,

It’s funny sometimes how much we can jam-pack into a single week of living. In the last 7 days you’ve watched documentaries on Mormonism, beer, and UFOs and I’ve delved into books about President Bush’s tenure and the illegitimacy of the college football postseason. I feel like we’re constantly learning so much and, yet, I also feel like we hardly know anything.

You brought up a fantastic point on Wednesday at small group about why God allows us to have trials in our lives which I confirmed the next day when I emailed you a verse from 2 Corinthians. Your response — “see, told you I was right” — was probably less than what God was looking for but I have to say it made me laugh.

Thank you for letting me talk a lot of smack about my Scattergories skills on Friday night when we had people over to play, you know i thrive on that. And if you “accidentally wrote the wrong list” so I could secure the W, please don’t ever tell me. Although I’ll go to my grave arguing that “fools” are something that jump/bounce (out of airplanes…duh).

I know we (you) get a good ribbing now and then for watching so many documentary films and yet I think the foundation behind that desire is a big part of why we’re married. I’ve fallen for you for many reasons, not the least of which is because you always ask ‘why?’ and ‘how?’ It should be noted that I’ve found myself asking those two questions lately as well, especially since you finished in the 99.7% on all of in our bowl picks…and you can’t name 5 college football players.

Thank you for helping us get into a good daily rhythm: work, play, eat, work, learn, sleep — all of it is more fun ¬†with you than without. I know I’m going to have to break that rhythm today and sit both of us down and make us write our already-woefully late Christmas thank you cards. I imagine getting you to do this will be at least equivalent to getting our kiddies to eat all the vegetables on their mini-plates someday but I know we’ll have fun doing it anyway because we most always have fun doing anything at all.

Thank you above all for that.