Twenty-five years ago today, two crazy barefoot kids read lofty promises we had written for each other. We had no idea we’d start two companies, live in the mountains, or become parents in our forties. I didn’t know she was a shepherd of hearts, an avid reader, or a justice seeker. Neither of us knew I’d someday not only want to see the world but actually do it. (I didn’t even have a passport.)
We paid for our very humble honeymoon with the money our relatives had given us as wedding gifts. We left the reception with everything Crystal owned in the back of a Cutlas Supreme I had bought for $700. But I was the king of the world with her hand in mine.
I’m still trying to live up to what I vowed that day. I’ve got a ways to go. The 2000 versions of us wouldn’t recognize the 2025 editions. And maybe that’s the best measure of our quarter century together: that we have evolved with each other and, in part, because of each other. We have given each other the space, the freedom, and the permission to explore, to change, to heal, and to be someone other than the someone we married.
I used to work really hard to find the most romantic or original anniversary present for Crystal. Now, I know the best gift I can give her is a better version of myself than the husband she had last year. I’m grateful for the authors, therapists, candid friends, and empathetic prayer partners who make that possible—almost as much as I am for the woman who deserves beyond the best I can and will ever be.
