Three Years on the Third at Three O’Clock

Dear John,

(You didn’t think the letters were just for the kids, did you?)

Three years. Can you believe it? Today we’ve been married three years. Happy anniversary!

When we started dating in high school, neither of us knew where the relationship would go. We were six months away from shipping off to college, and we didn’t even know where we’d be going yet. But there was something special between us, something that was fun, that made each of us feel understood in a way we hadn’t before.

That something, a number of years later, showed us that we wanted to be together for the rest of our lives. We were young, yes, but we were ready to give ourselves to each other in every way. That was the best decision I’ve ever made, although it didn’t feel like a decision. Like everything with you, it felt natural.

And so the next chapter of our lives began—together. Who would have guessed we’d have three babies to love in our three short years? (We should probably stop with the baby-per-year thing, or our fiftieth is going to be interesting . . .)
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When we promised ourselves to each other, we knew we had no idea what was in store for us. I certainly couldn’t have dreamed of all the ups and downs of these last few years.

What I did know was that we loved each other and we were committed to each other. Our relationship—and one day our family—was grounded in faith; it was never just about us. Though the way we do things isn’t always the same, from prayer to dishes to putting Jacob to sleep, I believe that if we continue to respect each other and express gratitude to each other as we have been, nothing can stop us. It’s the same thing I knew in the core of my being the day we got married, three years ago. And it is the same thing I will hold in my heart until my last day.

Happy anniversary, my dear. Thank you for loving, honoring, and respecting me, for putting me and Jacob (and Ethan and Henry) first every day. I hope I have done the same for you, and I hope I do it all better in the year to come.

All my heart,
Lindsay

P.S. This counts as your card, okay?