7 years. To some that may seem like a small number and yet to others that might seem like an incredibly long time. These days, to say you’ve been married for seven years is quite a statement. And I know that I am incredibly blessed for this man I get to call mine.

I had known Ryan for a very long time. I knew his family when I was in grade school since we both attended the same school, & his family sat on the opposite side of church from our family. But it wasn’t until high school when we started playing in church band together that I really started to get to know him. And one night over 11 years ago – I got the courage to ask him for his screen name. (Yes boys and girls – AIM was all the rage when Ryan and I started dating.)

Within 3 to 6 months, we both knew this was forever. It wasn’t because he was perfect. It wasn’t because I had some picture in my head of what my husband would be. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d ever find someone who would love me. But then this goofy, nerdy, amazing guy came along. And he made me laugh. He hugged me when I cried. He made me feel better about myself. He helped me become a better person. I just felt more complete with him. Neither of us was perfect – we were both flawed and broken in so many ways – but together we made a perfect team.

And all of those things are still true today. I’ve been lucky enough to be married to this man for seven of the hardest and most wonderful years of my life. And there is no one in this world I can imagine going through all these things with. Within our first few years of married life, our finances were tight. We could only afford one vehicle so we shared our car. And if I really needed internet – I’d ride my bicycle the 7 miles into town to use internet at the library. There were also many times we only had $6 to buy a weeks worth of groceries. But we had each other and found what worked for us and slowly over time our finances got better. I’m incredibly blessed to be married to a man that I can talk to and voice my concerns. Someone who listens and is willing to compromise.

Then in 2011, our world was shifted. At 4:30 am, a socket on our back porch sparked and lit our deck on fire. It quickly spread through our house and Ryan, Kit and I escaped just in time. We lost everything but the clothes on our backs, but we were alive and we had each other. For 10 months we were “homeless.” Living with a wonderful friend in Sullivan for 2 months, sharing a twin bed, and making a list of everything we’d lost for insurance. And then for the last 8 months we lived with Ryan’s cousin in Decatur. I’d wager not many people have gone through an experience like that. And it’s the kind of experience that will either tear you apart or make you stronger. To this day, I don’t know how I didn’t have a break down. But I honestly believe it’s because the one thing that didn’t change – the one thing I could always count on – was Ryan. And so knowing that and having him – that was all I needed to be content.

And as you all know – for the past four years (moving into the five year mark). We’ve been trying to have kids. Yet another thing that could break some couples. When my husband was 8 years old, he would be asked what he wanted to be when he grew up and he always said “a dad.” I feel infinitely blessed that he harbors no resentment towards me for my reproductive issues. He’s been such an encourager and so understanding of my issues with medication and not always feeling well. On days when I just can’t take it, he holds me tight in his arms. He doesn’t make me feel bad for my heartache or my emotional reactions. And he hasn’t given up on this dream of ours. And for this too – I know that I am blessed.

To say that I love Ryan is the most enormous understatement imaginable. I don’t really know how to define this crazy, amazing, beautiful thing we have. The closest I have come to trying to explain the degree to which I love him happened a few weeks ago. We were sitting on the couch talking about what being a Pezzelle means to me. I spent so much of my time growing up trying to figure out who I was… I easily figured out who I wasn’t. I wasn’t athletic. Or super smart. I wasn’t popular. Or super artistic. I wasn’t outgoing. I just didn’t know where I fit in. But the one thing I knew was that I was a Pezzelle.

Who I was and who I am is completely wrapped up in that name. Being a Pezzelle means you work hard. You take care of your family – whatever it’s form. Family is EVERYTHING! (second only to God) Food is meant to be enjoyed. Laughing should be like breathing. You live your life by a certain standard. These things are very important to me as a Pezzelle. So when Ryan proposed and I chose to take his last name… there was and is no greater sign of my love that I could give. I love this man so much that I was willing to take his name and let go of the one thing that defined me. I was willing to sacrifice the one thing I felt made me – me.

So this weekend I got to spend two whole days enjoying the company of the man I love. We did some shopping, planted some flowers, and did a quick mini self portrait shoot. But mostly we focused on us and all we’ve accomplished. Looking forward to whatever adventures lie ahead. (And the way things seem to go – I’m sure we’re in for an adventure or two.)

To my wonderful Ryan – I love you more than life itself! Thank you for being my knight in tarnished armor! And thank you for 11 of the best years of my life! I love you beyond the power of words!