My Kind of Happily Ever After

Today is my 30th wedding anniversary.

Thirty.

I almost double-checked the dates on our marriage certificate to make sure I hadn't made a mistake on the anniversary total. Even though my wedding photo is a bit faded, the ink on the certificate still states in bold black: May 24, 1980.

I married Rob Vogt 30 years ago.

When I got married, 30 seemed so old. Now I'm way-past 30 and I don't feel old at all. (For the record, feeling tired is not the same thing as feeling old.)

I thought about highlighting each of the 30 years by selecting one definitive memory for that year. I quickly realized how impossible that was.

Sure, 1983 is the year our son Josh was born--but there are so many other memories wrapped up in that year. 1986 is Katie Beth's year to arrive. The memory for 1988 would be our daughter Amy. Fast-forward to 2000 and you'd hear a million memories about our caboose kiddo, Christa.

And those are just the memories that define us as parents.

There are friendships-around-the-world and military-mandated moves, thanks to Rob's Air Force career. Walks along the coast of Florida and hikes in the Rocky Mountains. There are too many nights apart because of hospital call schedules and at least one family Christmas dinner in a hospital cafeteria and just about every New Year's Eve on call.

We've had break-your-heart hardships and moments we've looked at each other and wondered, "How did we get here--and how do we fight our way out?" There are frustrated silences and my husband's willingess to always ask forgiveness first.

We've celebrated and we've cried. We've laughed together and always, always found time to dance in the kitchen--and include our kids in the dance.

We've forged a family.

With the oh-to-quickly passage of time, we've written our very own happily ever after.