Twenty Years.

They don’t tell the 26-year-olds about late April and early May. That’s why we figured April 29th would be a great day for a wedding.

Nobody warns you that in two decades you’re gonna be so busy prepping for end of year testing, getting sluggish teens to muscle through academics and finishing strong on the baseball/football/soccer/track field, and other miscellaneous life that you will have no time to sit and reflect on how great you’ve got it.

There’s a temptation to go back to young doe-eyed Ben and say “get married in June, bro. You’ll thank me later”

But as we rush around to 4 sports split between three kids while mashing in full-time work between clients, band gigs/practices, and volunteering at church/booster club/everywhere… I wouldn’t have it any other way.

We had no idea that getting hitched on a plantation house porch that cloudy spring day in 2006 even had a downside, because even after closer inspection: it didn’t.

My mid-twenties were a time of great (to the point of delusional) over-confidence. I spent much time being very sure of everything I thought at the time, from “how I was going to raise kids” to “what type of music is best” to “which politician or preacher I agreed with.”

Much of that confidence proved to be posturing.

Apart from my confidence in Jesus’ blood and righteousness, the only thing that’s proven worthy of my trust has been a girl named Jacqueline Brooks. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, and even faster than before (when I feel sure some friends thought we were rushing things.)

Happy 20 years to us.