The Day After

With bags under our eyes, bad hangovers and smeared makeup we awoke calling each other “wife,” strangely foreign for many reasons but blissfully final.  Our wedding day was a polar shift between the chaos of last minute details, moments of solitude, and beauty.  The door to our 800 square foot yellow house was unlocked for the last several days filled with dozens of loved ones and six dogs.  The world stopped spinning when we walked hand in hand through the doors of that beautiful cathedral.  Other than a snorty cry during my vows, it could not have been more glorious.

When I asked Amber to marry me it was a very deliberate decision revolving around how we grew to love one another.  Anyone who knows a priest intimately understands the kind of recovery that needs to take place after Sunday services.  So every Sunday we would hike until it hurt, sharing our stories, our hopes, pain and eventually our love for one another.  When I asked Amber what her favorite place was in the area we lived, she responded with an overlook of the Delta we would climb every Sunday.  I asked her to marry me there, with a terrible, corny rhyming poem and an ethical ring made by an independent jeweler.  She gave me a tearful firm “yes” and for the remainder of our hike poured out her anxiety like Niagra Falls.

Now, we wait in Atlanta Airport to board our flight to Spain a married and deeply in love couple.  When they say “special day” and “happiest” I always thought it hyperbolic, a chalkboard scripted sign that pumpkin spice sipping women buy from Hobby Lobby to hang above their mosquito netted four poster.  But, when I woke at 5am suddenly last night I wept, realizing it was the happiest day of my life.  Surrounded by the most abundant love and joy, I understand now why we needed to share the moment with those in our lives.

So we begin our journey in Spain on the Camino de Santiago, the way of Saint James... or a ridiculously long hike.  Stay with us for our reflections, sights and awe.  Buen Camino.